Manisha had reserved a restaurant that was quite some distance away from the place where we lived. She wanted to avoid any kind of attention. It was an upscale place that was sparsely occupied. The place itself had secluded islands as seating arrangement for folks who wanted privacy. The islands had fairly high walls ensuring it and even the opening of the island was fairly narrow allowing sufficient privacy. It wasn’t easy to overhear anyone around either. The waiters waited outside and only attended to guests upon requests.
We looked strange as a couple; Manisha was impeccably dressed while I showed up in an harried state. It seemed to be part of her plan, though. The booth had ample seating and could seat about eight people. She sat opposite to me, insisting that her new husband may show up any time. She had mischief in her eyes. She asked, “have you made up your choice?”
“I know the starting level,” she interjected.
It was my moment of truth. Either I honestly admitted or I chickened out. Contrary to my nature, I decided to be brave. I pulled out my cell phone and showed her a picture that I had been longing to show her for a while.
It showed a picture of a white couple engaged in a threesome with a black man. The lover was sitting on a sofa, with the wife straddling him, impaled on his monstrous penis. The husband, meanwhile, standing next to the sofa was kissing her deeply. However, the most important details of the picture were the gender symbols. There were three symbols at the top of the picture, with the two white symbols for the couple and the black one for the lover but the important aspect was the black one’s arrow pointing into the circle of woman’s symbol. If that weren’t enough, it showed a small black male gender symbol inside the female’s sign, symbolizing the act of impregnation by the lover.
It took a while for Manisha to understand the subtle message. I suggested that she expand the picture and look at the details carefully. There was nothing she hadn’t seen earlier as we were aware of the main theme that excited us in porn. However, when it finally dawned on her – the real message that I wanted her to see – she was shocked.
“Am I reading it correctly?” she asked, stunned by my admission. Her lips quivered as she oggled at the picture, trying to contain her conflicting emotions.
“What changed?” she asked.
“You never confessed this until now,” she added. I thought for a few moments before answering, “It was always on my mind but I was ashamed of it.”
She had a faint smile; her eyes conveyed the warmth she felt for me. Perhaps it was her sympathy that showed the nervousness in her smile. There was silence. We started at each other lovingly, realizing, how naked we were in front of each other.
“It is not easy option,” she quipped.
“If you cross the bridge,” I croaked, gulping my saliva, “I won’t be far behind.”
“He desperately wants it,” she said gathering courage.
“He would have tried everything under his control,” she whispered.
“Do you really want it?” I managed to ask. She didn’t answer and thought about it. Her eyes wandered around, eyeing the entrance.
“It is a complicated question,” she seethed, “but the short answer is yes.”
“But let me clarify yet again,” she added, meticulously, “it has nothing to do with love.”
“It is a primal instinct,” she exhaled. We looked at each other; lost in thought. Our passions for each other knew no bounds now. It just seemed as if both of us wouldn’t hesitate from fulfilling the deepest desires the other harbored. It was not only her desire to mate and conceive from him but also my latent desire to see her impregnated with his virile semen.
“But,” she said, interrupting my thought process, “I want it to be an intimate affair.”
“It should be just the way it is between a husband and wife!”
“Not just at the physical level but also at the emotional level,” she clarified.
“And I am aware that this is more than what you had imagined. But I want to share that bond with the father of my children.”
“Did you say children?” I asked, surprised by her boldness. She nodded, hesitantly. What was weighing on her mind was apparent – it was a mixture of pleasure and anxiety. We were again shrouded in silence.
“Are you sure?” she asked, breaking the silence, after a while, perhaps ascertaining my readiness.
“What is so attractive about him?” I asked, mildly irritated. It wasn’t warranted given everything that we had seen together. Yet, she didn’t react; carefully weighing her thoughts, she said, “He introduced me to the pleasures of being a woman.”
It was a smack on my manhood. While Kishanchanji may have been a gifted stud, I never felt that our sexual life was mundane by any standards. True, the intensity and frequency had reduced during the later years of marriage but nothing that couldn’t be explained.
“With you it is pleasurable,” she said assuring me, “but with him it is heavenly!”
“And if one were to use the animal kingdom metaphor,” she added, licking her lips, “the lioness would go into estrus spotting such a nomadic lion.”
“Is it purely physical pleasure?” I asked. She rolled her eyes but answered, “Psychologically, I love giving it to an elderly and not so good looking person.”
“What do you expect of me?” I asked, surprising her. There was a brief silence.
“You like the idea of me cuckolding you.”
“I love that notion.”
“And Kishanchanji definitely thrives on it.”
“What does it mean practically?” I asked.
“Practically, I would like to give him both physical and emotional pleasure for the next five years.”
“I would be first his wife then yours.”
“Whatever happens we live with it.”
Manisha was a little nervous after elaborating what she really wanted. It was quite far from what I had in my mind. Yet, I knew that it wasn’t something I never imagined. I had always wanted to watch Manisha mate with a well endowed person. And it was always a prolonged affair but I never thought that I would living in such an arrangement day-in-day-out. In fact, her suggestion implied that she really wanted to spend her nights with him; at least more often with him than with me. Even her reference to cuckoldry was one of its first. We had read several stories and knew the term but neither of us ever used in our day to day life. Manisha had certainly crossed the bridge, I thought. Her willingness to embrace him for five years stunned me. Irrespective of all that unnerved me, I held steadfast to my belief that Manisha only had the best interest of our family and if at all she was only adding spice to our sexual lives.
Her intended planned kicked in as I received a call from Amirchanji, who asked me to work an urgent proposal. I told Manisha about the issue – very well knowing that perhaps this was her ploy – that I would have to run to office. The timing was perfect as we saw Kishanchanji arriving. Looking at our harried faces, he asked, “What’s the matter?”
Unlike me, Kishanchanji was perfectly prepared for the occasion. He was well groomed and wore a nice suit that went well with Manisha’s attire. To my dislike he was actually looking much better in the new attire. Manisha didn’t miss it as I saw the spark in her eyes as they locked their gaze for fractionally longer than expected.
There were times when, although I envisioned him with my wife, I shuddered at the thought of her making out with him. Although, I wanted to see him kiss her passionately, I hated that notion. Perhaps, I felt he wasn’t much of hygienic person. However, his recent makeover has been remarkable. Now, in fact he resembled a well groomed elderly gentlemen who fancied young women.
He adroitly took the seat next to Manisha. The image of him and her as an odd couple got seared in my mind when I saw them sitting nicely dressed next to each other. There was an element of nervousness and excitement on Manisha’s face while Kishanchanji was only beaming. His short stature with his bulky figure added to the enigma when compared to Manisha’ tall and slender physique. His white teeth shone brilliantly through his thick dark lips that had several times tasted nectar from my wife’s beautiful pink lips.
“A deal is falling through,” I claimed.
“What about the anniversary?” he asked.
“I have to rush. Could you take care of Manisha?”
“Absolutely,” he said, throwing his arm around and pulling her in for a hug.
“Are you folks done already?” he asked.
“No.” she seethed.
His innocuous question could have been misread and perhaps Manisha did. It could have very well meant the sexual activity one engages on such occasions. However, I felt her response was more due to him manhandling her in front of me.
“Amirchanji has no sense of timing,” he complained.
“But don’t worry. I can romance your wife until your back,” he added, chuckling.
It was unusual for him to break into such a conversation but he never hide his enchantment with Manisha. Manisha was amused with Kishanchanji’s statement but she contained it and separated from him graciously.
“Have a seat Vinit. Let’s talk.”
“Don’t worry. Nothing is that urgent in life,” he added sensing my hesitation.
I presumed that the plan was for me to step out while giving them the privacy but seemed like he had something else in mind.
“There are a few things you need to learn to effectively deal with Amirchanji,” he said, glancing at Manisha.
She nodded, hesitantly, swallowing her lips. It wasn’t clear but seemed like a subtle cue.
“Are you listening?” he said, looking at me squarely. I nodded. One of the ways he always tried to get my attention.
“Manisha here is smart,” he said, looking at her, “not sure about you,” he added looking at me again.
“She has roped me in to help you with your fledgling business.”
Manisha calmly nodded.
“Running a business is a challenge,” he added.
“Are you with me?”
“I don’t understand,” I responded.
“Could we talk about this later?”
Kishanchanji glared at me.
“He has no sense of timing,” he said looking at Manisha. She rolled her eyes, motioning me to take a seat.
“Why don’t you listen to what Kishanchanji is suggesting?”
Grudgingly I sat there.
“Let’s talk as adults here,” he started.
“Amirchanji is your partner, not because of your business or you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“His sole interest is your young, beautiful wife.”
“What are you suggesting Kishanchanji,” I said, raising my voice, annoyed by his comment.
“Didn’t I tell you?”
“He can’t handle it,” he said, looking at her.
“What?” I interrupted. Ignoring me he gave her a look. She was lost in thought but decided to break the ice by calling the waiter to order our food. There was a switch at the table to call for help.
An elderly waiter walked in and politely asked, “What can I get for you sir?” His attention was directed to Kishanchanji and Manisha sitting next to him. She ordered some wine.
He remarked, “Madam you are looking beautiful.”
“Is it any special occasion?”
“It is our anniversary,” she quipped.
“Congratulations!”
He said looking, glowingly at Kishanchanji and her. Not once did he bother looking at me. Just as expected he mistook Manisha to be his wife. Manisha blushed as I agonized over my fate. I expected her to interrupt not realizing how she expected me to explain their immaculate attire and why I was sitting on the wrong end of the table.
“Let me get a special cake for you,” he approvingly added as he left.
She suppressed her chuckle and excused herself on the pretext of talking to me. She grabbed my hand and lead me to the outside balcony that was fairly deserted. We walked to the far end of the balcony that was dimly lit and inconspicuous.
“You are not cooperating,” she seethed.
“Kishanchanji graciously agreed to help us. The least we should do is show some respect.”
“I should be tolerating his insinuation?”
“He is telling the truth,” she argued.
“You knew that Amirchanji had been eyeing me, right?”
“I didn’t expect to gain an unfair advantage from that in our business and neither do I expect Amirchanji to have fringe benefits,” I countered.
“Life isn’t fair. We can’t control other’s thoughts.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“We need him on our side as we navigate our business with Amirchanji,” she exhaled.
“Besides,” she added after a brief pause, “you have already surrendered your mating rights to him.”
Her blunt statement reminded of the quandary that we were in. It was clear that deep down that I had longed for the progression she outlayed in her letter. However, that didn’t imply my verbal humiliation by Kishanchanji. Yet that was very much what I may be looking at. Neither did I expect it to be a brazenly open affair but it seemed both Manisha and Kishanchanji had other ideas.
She sensually stepped forward, bridging the narrow gap between us. Her lips met mine. But she teasingly pulled back as I tried to reciprocate. Looking at me, cross-eyed, she closed in further but this time her attention was southwards as her hand made it to my groin. It gently caressed the painfully hard tent that had made a camp down there.
“You were serious, right?” she sensually exhaled into my mouth. There was silence. Her hand traced the outline of my bulge delicately.
“Your mind may be weighing the odds again but your heart as already surrendered.”
She massaged my pecker gently. Her actions were deliberate and calculated.
“Haven’t you fantasized him taking me on our wedding night?” My lips quivered as I tried to kiss her but she had no intention of entertaining me that evening.
“Would it have taken three years to plant his seed?” she asked. It didn’t matter the decision to delay the start of our family was a consensual decision. Kishanchanji may not have showed such restraint and neither would she have deterred him, I thought.
She waited for my response after every question, remark of hers but my heart was simply racing away and the pecker that had been on the edge was simply aching to be relieved. Words could not have matched the smoldering heat she was emanating. If it was any other occasion, I would have ravished her but today was special.She had mentally prepared to be Kishanchanji’s wife and I wasn’t ready to spoil it.
“I would have been a mother of two already,” she added, rubbing salt into my already inflamed wounds.
“Better late than never,” she uttered, “right?” she asked, search for an answer in my eyes.
“What do you want?” I croaked, covering my dry cough.
“Show respect to the man who makes me feel proud as a woman!”
“There won’t be much hidden from now on,” she added, “might just get comfortable with it.”
I took a few minutes assimilating what she just said. It wasn’t apparent if Manisha had planned for what seemed to transpire. Kishanchanji’s presence was certainly prearranged but when did she inform him? Did she expect me to agree to the proposal already? Or was this Kishanchanji’s plan? However, didn’t she promise Kishanchanji about the anniversary before she accepted his proposal? A zillion questions were clamoring in my mind.
Heading back, I found Manisha back in her original position. The wine had arrived and was served for the three of us. Just when I was about to enter the place, I noticed Manisha proposing a toast. Her brazen act of not waiting for me to return bothered me. It was also the intimacy she exhibited during my absence. She sat right next to him, turning her body towards him to talk while Kishanchanji practically encircled her, with his left hand on the table while his right hand went on top of the back of her seat. The chemistry was apparent as she blushed and smiled in response to the small talk he was making. I hesitated to head back in immediately but gave them a few minutes and joined them.
“Let’s toast to our future,” said Manisha. Her remark irked me but I kept my emotions under check.
“Are you leaving?” asked Kishanchanji taking a sip.
“Oh no,” interrupted Manisha.
“What could be more important than your pearls of wisdom,” she said flattering him.
“I assured that you would talk to Amirchanji later on.”
“Of course. Of course.”
“So where were we.”
“You were talking about the reasons behind the partnership,” answered Manisha.
“Right.”
“Is he ready for it?” he asked Manisha.
“He is a quick learner,” she answered, patting his hand.
“You see,” he started, “Amirchanji’s sole interest is your wife.”
“It may sound rude but understandable.”
“Don’t you agree Manisha?” he asked her.
She nodded carefully.
“He does have a crush on me,” she added nonchalantly.
“What is your point?” I again interrupted, quite rudely. I realized that this wasn’t going to be easy.
“The point is that if you shield Manisha it would only be difficult for you.”
“What do you mean?” I blurted out again.
“With that sort of an attitude, I am afraid there isn’t much point in coaching you,” he said, keeping the glass back on table.
“I may as well leave,” he said. Manisha held his hand firmly and pulled him back. And this time she sat very close to him, holding his hand in hers quite firmly.
“Vinit, we should at least listen to what Kishanchanji is saying.”
“Even if it is unpleasant,” she said, tapping my hand with her right hand.
“You have a beautiful wife Vinit,” he said looking at me and then quite blatantly, extricating his hand from hers, he used it to hug her. She was perilously close to him; her left shoulder pushed into his chest. Her discomfort was evident but it didn’t deter him.
“She is very smart and has very little attitude.”
“She is the best asset you have.”
“If you don’t understand how to leverage it then you would not succeed much.”
“Kishanchanji, some of what you are saying is uncomfortable,” I said, “but instead of beating around the bush, why don’t you say it clearly.”
“That’s the spirit,” he said, hugging her tightly again.
“All the businessmen you would deal with would take a keen interest in your wife,” he started.
“She is young, beautiful, and married to, what should I say,” he said, looking at her, “married to an amateur.”
“When they see both of you – they see an opportunity – an opportunity to fool you and quite certainly an opportunity to score with your wife.”
“Are you with me?”
I gritted myself and nodded.
“But you don’t have to regret.”
“Instead plan on taking advantage of it.”
“How?” I asked. There was a hint of sarcasm in my voice too which Manisha glared at me.
“When hormones interfere with mind, it is usually hormones that win!”
“Manisha could have that effect on Amirchanji. So, I propose that you let Manisha handle dealings with him.”
“Hope you aren’t presuming Amirchanji is naive,” I retorted.
“If there is anyone naive then it is you,” he shot back. Manisha’s showed her frustration once again to me.
“Manisha is quite smart to keep it at the right level to keep Amirchanji’s greed in check.”
I looked at Manisha straight and asked her, “Did Kishanchanji convince you of this already?”
“NO,” she shot back at me.
“He explained it earlier but it has to be your decision.”
The irritation on her face was apparent but I didn’t anticipate her wicked plot until now. It seemed something was in play but clearly Kishanchanji was upping the stakes as we indulged in this morbid conversation.
“The question is -,” he said, trying to ease the tension, “how would you exploit your opponent’s weakness.”
“Some would not ask for your permission and may try to charm your wife and other’s may need your encouragement.””Don’t be judgemental,” he added, before I could react. Manisha cautioned me to keep calm at the same time.
“With Amirchanji you suggest that I try the later strategy.”
“Now you are talking,” he encouraged. Manisha stole a chuckle but quickly hid her excitement.
“With the first category, you suggest that I don’t intervene?”
“See, not every association and business deal is the same.”
“What we are talking about is private company of your beautiful wife.”
“The level of intimacy has to be predicated on the importance of the business relationship.”
“You get the drift, I suppose?”
I nodded, acting as mature as I could, given the circumstances.
“What is the strategy for the second category men?”
“That is a tricky puzzle to solve,” he exhaled, leaning back. All along he had been leaning forward and speaking to me intently. May be it was my non confrontational style that put him at ease.
“Manisha,” he asked, “why don’t you explain?”
“Me,” she answered in awkward manner. He had caught her off guard. It was certain that he had already discussed with her on the subject.
“Dear, you got to explain it to your husband,” he urged. Her nervousness returned. All the confidence that was present only a few minutes ago vanished.
“Go on,” he pushed her.
“Kishanchanji briefly explained earlier,” she started hesitantly, weighing my reaction.
“He was suggesting,” she carefully chose her words, “that you need to convey to such men that I am not off limits.”
Looking at my puzzled response, she continued, “It means that you introduce me not as your wife but your business partner.”
“That,” she added, “would allow me to negotiate on your behalf tricky deals and also make it easier for them to drop their guard.”
My heart was racing as she described his proposal. It had a similar effect on her, I supposed. It was only Kishanchanji who appeared normal. There was uncomfortable silence as Manisha and I weighed her words. She evaded my eyes as I looked at her. Kishanchanji took the opportunity to order food.
It was evident that in some way they both wanted me to accept Manisha’s infidelity openly or rather they wanted me to openly encourage it. However, the entire discussion had been surrounding Amirchanji and I wondered how that may benefit Kishanchanji.It was difficult for me to think straight in the state that Manisha had left me for the past three weeks. Could it have been that she had resolved to consummate our anniversary with him already and hence avoid actual intercourse with me all these days? Did she already anticipate my willingness or did she manipulate me into it? Whatever may have been the motivation or facts, the effect was unmistakable. I desired Kishanchanji to mate with my wife and not simply for recreation but for procreation.
However, it wasn’t something that I was willing to confess in front of anyone except my wife. Until I read Manisha’s letter, perhaps I didn’t have the courage to confess in front of her either. I was torn between my fetish to watch him mate with her and endure the decimation of my self esteem. One may wonder what kind of self-esteem? Given that it was my insidious desire to see her please other men! Still most men who harbor such hideous thoughts are aware of the difference between fantasy and reality. Yet nothing in life comes the way you desire it. You may get what you wished for but there are always strings attached. My mental agony was unbearable but down below my penis was leaking precum in anticipation of Kishanchanji’s next move. Her words were ringing true now of him making aware of the husbands that he is bedding their wives but I never thought it may come as such a rude shock.
Lost in thought, he remarked, “it would be difficult for him.” She nodded tentatively.
“Don’t you agree Vinit?” I too nodded. Manisha gave me a look again, making it clear that she didn’t want the conversation to end.
“Kishanchanji,” she interrupted, “nothing is easy in life.”
“I hope,” she said leaning forward, grabbing my hand with one and his hand with another hand, “with your guidance we can cross any chasm.”
“You think so?” he quizzed.
“I believe so.”
“What about you?” he asked me.
“Your wife here is brave,” he said, gulping his saliva, “and what shall I say adventurous.”
“But are you willing to endure it?” he asked, looking directly into my eyes, leaning forward and pushing me for a response. Manisha maintained a tight grip on my hand.
“Can you imagine?” he probed further.
“You working tirelessly on a business proposal as the unfamiliar sounds of your wife fall on your ears.”
“The grunts that have always eluded you and throes of passion that you may have never experienced going Amirchanji’s way?”
He rubbed it in, finally. I was flustered and quite certainly Manisha’s heart skipped a beat as Kishanchanji vulgarly described my quandary.
“We have faith in our marriage,” she intervened, her hand firmly grasped mine assuringly.
“It is not faith that saves,” countered Kishanchanji, “but ones deep love for his woman and unbridled passion to give her the very best!”
“Women find it easy,” he added, “it is the men who need a firm resolve.”
“As Manisha explained it wouldn’t be easy but we are willing to try it,” I added, dryly.
“Vinit, what I am asking is can you really imagine it?”
“Yes,” I hesitantly answered. Manisha too was nervous not knowing where this was heading.
“Try harder,” he pushed me, “visualize it.”
“What sort of emotions does it evoke?”
“Jealousy,” I quipped.
“What else?”
I didn’t know how to respond. I presumed he didn’t expect to admit that I relished having my wife screwed by Amirchanji.
“Vinit you need to think hard if this is something that you really want,” he tried, pushing me again.
Manisha interrupted, saying, “It is only jealousy that he needs to reign in.”
“That’s understandable but does he have desire to remedy it?”
“All it requires is for you to do that,” he said, and looking at her, he added, “and for you to leverage your chemistry with him.”
“It is easier said than done,” she countered. While Manisha was sexually excited she did have much better self control than I did.
“It is not easy and requires application,” he added.
“Manisha I sense that contrary to my earlier opinion, I don’t think you folks are ready for it yet.”
“Kishanchanji, there is no doubt we have to grow a lot before we can show any sort of maturity.”
“But then that takes time and constant guidance,” she added, calculatedly.
The food arrived and the waiter set the plates for us and served the food. The menu was simpler as the intention was not food but the proceedings after the dinner.
“Sir, if you don’t mind, I have a suggestion,” he spoke to Kishanchanji as he served his food. Kishanchanji approved.
“Since you are such a romantic couple, we can upgrade you folks to a much better suite that is perfect for the occasion.”
“If you pardon my intrusion, I over heard that you were celebrating your anniversary.”
“It has a king size bed and extra large bath tub, perfect for a romantic couple,” he added.
This had no effect on Kishanchanji but I had a raging hard on and Manisha too was equally flushed.
“Absolutely,” responded Kishanchanji, as he hugged Manisha again. This time his hand didn’t encircle her shoulder, instead it was her waist.
“She would love it,” he added, pulling her in.
“Your wife is shy,” he remarked, “how long have you been married.”
“She is gorgeous,” he exuded, “it has been four precious years and looking forward to many more, right honey?”
Kishanchanji took advantage of the situation as I sat their seething with a raging hard on. He leaned in and try to kiss her on the side of her cheek. She evaded it but not flagrantly. Eventually he did manage to kiss her on cheeks.
Even after the waiter left, Kishanchanji’s had rested on her slender waist. His hand was concealed behind the pallu (portion of saree that covers the breasts) she wore. But it was clear that his hand wasn’t idle as Manisha fidgeted with the food in front of her, quite nervous about what was happening.
“You didn’t mind that did you?” asked Kishanchanji, chuckling.
“If you don’t mind asking what sort of an effect it had on you?” he asked.
“Besides jealousy,” he added.
“Go ahead, think about it and honestly answer,” he said, ignoring Manisha’s discomfort. Kishanchanji was left handed so it didn’t bother him to sit in that state with his hand firmly resting on her waist. From the looks of it his hand was touching her naked stomach and he had no intention of letting her go yet.
“If I may assist, my hand is resting on your beautiful wife’s slender waist.” Manisha fidgeted but relented and let him have his way with her.
“It’s for your benefit,” he added, “you need to master your jealous streak.”
“Vinit eat your food.”
“Her skin is so smooth – without any folds – amazing for a woman who has mothered a child not long ago.”
Manisha was practically convulsing as Kishanchanji caressed her bare stomach. None of the actions were visible to me but Manisha’ reaction left nothing to my imagination.
“This is how the pushovers take control of the situation,” he continued.
“They wouldn’t ask you for permission – they wouldn’t care for your presence – all they care for is their gratification.”
“And too your utter surprise, you would find that your wife would react positively.”
“Amirchanji is not of that type, I suppose,” I countered. My intention was to divert the discussion from the explicits that he was resorting to.
“He isn’t. With him he would need to be persuaded both by you and her.”
“Not verbally but by showing your subservience.”
“Let’s not talk about him,” interrupted Manisha, “I don’t quite believe association with him is that important.”
“But I agree that we may have to be prepared for such an event if the situation arises.”
“So, let me ask Vinit, do you feel a mixture of jealousy and sexual tension?”
“Right now. With the waiter misunderstanding our relationship and me trying to take advantage of your wife.”
“Finally, you let the cat out of the bag.”
“If I were to guess the proportions it would about 60-40 split between sexual tension and jealousy.”
“Right?”
“About right,” I answered.
“If I may push it could even have been more like 70-30, which is a normal reaction for men of your type.”
“What do you mean?” I immediately objected to his insinuation. Despite my best efforts I couldn’t accept him berating me directly. Manisha, however, reminded me non verbally to not react, essentially reminding me that it always provoked him.
“There are two kinds of men – one who fantasize about screwing other’s wives and the ones who fantasize about watching other men screw their wife.”
“I hope that clarifies.”
“Let’s finish our dinner quickly,” he stopped abruptly, “I couldn’t wait to show your wife the suite the waiter talked about.”
Kishanchanji wouldn’t let go of such a splendid opportunity to berate me, I thought. I looked for a reason but both Manisha and Kishanchanji had busied themselves. Upon careful inspection of their positions, I realized that Manisha’s left hand, essentially was in his lap. Out of the corner of eye I noticed that her hand made tiny movements that couldn’t be explained in a decent manner.
Manisha’s behavior was having an effect on me. Right in front of me she showed fascination for our elderly neighbor. Was she encouraging Kishanchanji to take advantage of her? Where was his hand, I thought? It took a little while to figure it out but I could only make educated guesses. We spoke cursorily about various topics but my attention was on his hand. However, it was her facial expressions that gave away what his hand was upto. Due to the Pallu that covered her breasts, his hand was not really visible. But when Manisha seethed, suppressing her expression, I knew that he was definitely massaging her breast. Still why would a gently massage cause such an effect on her I thought. Was it because he was doing so in front of her husband? I carefully inspected his actions and it dawned on me that he may be tweaking her right nipple under the garb that shielded her assets.
The dinner took a good ten minutes and during that phase I could see that Manisha had succumbed to Kishanchanji’s philandering ways. It was evident for an onlooker that she was smitten by him. Her demeanor was similar to that of a lioness in heat that was craving the attention of the nomadic lion shamelessly in front of the pride owner. She sat perilously close to him and showed no intention of leaning away from him. Instead, when they spoke, her face was not more than 2 feet distance from his. Her hand was busy the whole time but she kept it under the covers and unless I carefully paid attention it just seemed that her hand was resting in his lap.
More importantly, there was a phase during the dinner when they exclusively talked to each other. It was as if I didn’t exist. The chemistry proved far too difficult for me to handle.
Just as the dinner was getting over, Kishanchanji, started again, “Manisha and I have thought carefully about how to ensure that you folks get the experience and right guidance in these matters.”
“This may come as a surprise but I believe you folks need to practice with it for a little while.”
“I don’t get it,” I asked, seeking more clarification.
“What I am suggesting is that you folks experiment with another male – to see how you both react to the experience.”
“This may not be for everyone,” he cautioned. Manisha looked at me and when my eyes met her she cautioned not to react but to go with the flow.
“You see what I am suggesting right?” he asked. Finally, I noticed him separate from Manisha. She adjusted her clothing in a conspicuous manner not realizing that from the corner of eye I was watching her actions.
“Is this really required?” I asked puzzled. I didn’t anticipate this twist. But then things fell in place.
“Let me explain,” intervened Manisha.
“Vinit we may think we are ready but we aren’t mentally prepared for this.”
“It is important that we experiment with this before we jump into it.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“We need to find a trusted person who can mentor us in these matters.”
“And you are suggesting that Kishanchanji would fill in that role.”
“Yes,” she answered nonchalantly.
“This is a continuous process – the lessons for which don’t sink in right away.”
“It’s a long term thing then,” I clarified.
“Yes but not just that.”
“When we embark on this path – such situations won’t arise when we want it.”
“Instead, they would always stare at us.”
“Testing our patience and perseverance.”
“So, it can’t be an hour a day thing.”
“You see what I mean,” she asked, fully aware of the fact that I knew what she was implying.
“And Kishanchanji you are okay with this?” I asked feigning my surprise at Manisha’s description.
“I couldn’t say no to Manisha,” he answered diplomatically.
“It has to be a well wisher of ours and someone whom we can trust with our familial secrets,” elaborated Manisha.
“I have one condition, though,” he added, looking at Manisha.
“Are you with me so far?” asked Manisha. Well, there wasn’t something that we hadn’t talked about earlier, so I nodded.
“Kishanchanji here,” she said, measuring her words, “has a peculiar request.”
“What?”
“He has been honest in admitting his attraction towards your wife,” she said, “which is no surprise,” she chuckled.
“But given his celibate nature for the past decade and his midlife, he would like to experience the joy of having a wife once again.”
“What?”
“Don’t react but think about it,” she pushed me.
The waiters came in to clean up the leftovers and the main waiter said, “Sir, we have a special surprise for you.”
“Since you have upgraded to our executive suite,” he added. He left after the table was cleaned but the thought left me stranded as I weighed Manisha’s proposal carefully again. Although, I had accepted her proposal earlier, this was different as my acceptance would serve as an open invitation to Kishanchanji.
The waiter brought in a cake with a candle lit in the center. It was perhaps to celebrate their anniversary, I thought. It said “Happy Anniversary” but didn’t mention the names. One look at Manisha confirmed that she hadn’t really expected this.
“Dear let’s celebrate our anniversary,” he said beamingly, hugging her sideways. I sat there helplessly as Kishanchanji humiliated me in front of my wife and the waiter.
“You two look beautiful,” commented the waiter as he eagerly awaited the cake cutting ceremony.
“You mind taking pictures of my beautiful wife?” he asked, hugging Manisha. He obviously had penchant for rubbing it in. She was stunned by the sudden events that she simply went with the flow. Kishanchanji’s right hand went around her and grabbed her right hand to cut the cake. She leaned into him; her hand rested on the table, the other side of the cake and adroitly he clasped her hand with his left hand. It wasn’t just that but his fingers intertwined with hers. If this was rehearsed then Manisha’s reaction didn’t really show it.
Kishanchanji made a spectacle of my wife as he held onto my dear wife in front of the ogling waiter. He made me click several pictures before he allowed her to blow the candles. He made an attempt to sneak a kiss but she evaded it. His kisses landed on her hair as he lovingly played with her hair all the while goading me to take pictures. He kissed her neck as she prepared to cut the cake; it was a subtle kiss that caused Manisha to react but she suppressed her actions to the extent she could.
She unceremoniously cut the cake without waiting for me to take a snap of them during the process. Kishanchanji, however, wasn’t to be deterred. He grabbed her jaw with his left hand and turning it towards him he kissed her. Yet he missed, or so I thought, as his kiss landed on her cheek, albeit touching the corner of mouth and as fate would have it I captured that moment. It lasted longer than the picture needed it and I even saw him purse his lips to offer her a wet kiss. The corner of her mouth had the wetness when she finally managed to push him away.
It was a seminal event of my life. Kishanchanji had managed to take over my anniversary as his own, finally. If I had any hopes of escaping from the situation unscathed, I knew they were misplaced. It was only a matter of time before he would take her as his own wife!
My hormones were in overdrive as my pecker beckoned for attention. I silently shifted in my seat as I rearranged the bulge in a more comfortable position. Kishanchanji fed the piece of cake to her, which she nibbled at and then without much encouragement, she demurely took the piece from his hand and fed it to him. He took his time eating morsels from her hand. It was a sight to behold as Kishanchanji flicked his tongue across her fingers a few times much to my chagrin.
She cut a small piece for me after wiping her hand. The waiter congratulated them as he picked up the remaining cake to clear the table.
“Sir, your wife is beautiful,” he remarked.
“No wonder our one year old is adorable,” replied Kishanchanji.
“He is at home,” he asked, tentatively. Kishanchanji nodded, not providing much encouragement to him. It just seemed that he was far too inquisitive.
“Happy anniversary,” he once again congratulated them, “and hope your stay in the executive suite is eventful,” he added, leaving swiftly.
“Did you hear what he said dear?” he remarked jokingly. He moved into to kiss her but she pushed him away saying, “we need to talk.”
“Oh, what have you thought then?” asked Kishanchanji.
“What may I say, you just celebrated our anniversary,” I remarked dryly.”Well that is the point as Manisha explained, I don’t just want an adventure, I want a wife.”
“We need his constant guidance,” added Manisha, “and he wants intimacy with a woman.”
“A young woman,” clarified Kishanchanji.
“And I have always liked your wife,” he continued, “and Manisha isn’t averse to this idea itself.”
I looked at her. It was roleplaying but I didn’t really believe that Kishanchanji knew about our tacit understanding. But I wasn’t naive to believe that the tacit understanding only existed between me and her. There was ample evidence to suggest that they too had their own understanding. What I firmly believed was that Kishanchanji didn’t really know about my approval before she initiated the affair.
There was silence. None of us really knew what to say to mitigate the situation. We had come too far and there was no turning back. All of us weighed our options but none of us believed that words would break the ice. It had to be action. And given the circumstances, the only person who was at home was Kishanchanji himself, so I was just praying that he didn’t make us beg for it.
“Now,” he said finally, “if you keep an eye on the intrusive waiter, I can properly kiss my adorable wife here.”
Manisha’ wide eyes and open mouth conveyed that she didn’t anticipate it. She looked at me startled by his suggestion.
“Come on honey,” he cajoled her, “you don’t really believe an anniversary is complete without a french kiss?”
She tried to hush him. There was no need for that as we were quite alone in that room that evening and the intrusive waiter was on the other side; he couldn’t watch them but me as I sat opposite to them. She looked at me for help and leaned back and away from him. It was only rhetorical denial, I thought. Her hands were down by the side, instead of staying up to block him or push him away. It was clear that she was only temporarily hesitating. Kishanchanji scooted further cornering her. Neither of them bothered looking at me.
His left hand went to her waist as he pulled her forward a little while his right went behind her back, encircling her waist to keep her backwards motion in check. She was stupefied and I certainly was in a daze as the only thing that I ever longed for was about to transpire not more than five feet away from me. Kishanchanji stared at her beauty for few moments and then lunged into action. He was slow and deliberate. His lips landed on her tender neck, gently caressing with his slightly parted lips. I heard her exhale audibly as his lips met her neck. She had surrendered to her debauched feelings. There was no apprehension on her side; if at all there was an attempt to savor the moment; prolong it for as long as she could. Kishanchanji gently kissed her neck as she squirmed in his embrace. She let him kiss her neck as she turned her face to present herself squarely to him. His left hand moved northwards as it gently grazed her breasts. His attention riveted to her breast as he stopped kissing her. This brought her back from her reverie as she wondered the cause of his distraction. Noticing her attention towards his hand, he gently squeezed her breast. She moaned, puckering her lips.
Unlike what I had seen in some semi-professional videos, Manisha didn’t bother looking at me at all. Her anxiety reflected my presence but she never bothered looking at me and perhaps that’s what emboldened her eventually. She started getting involved into it as Kishanchanji showered her neck with small kisses. Quite subtly, she kissed him on his cheek, beckoning for his lips. Not surprisingly, Kishanchanji looked up and saw the willingness in her eyes. She puckered her lips invitingly and leaned forward to kiss his lips.
It was a sight worth seeing as their tongues snaked around each other, hungrily sucking each other’s lips. It wasn’t a passionate hot kiss that meant to be escalated to a quickie in a matter of minutes. Rather it was gradual undulation of the snakes mating with each other for prolonged period. The kiss was intense but gradual. She showed no hesitation in accepting his kiss as she probed and encouraged his probing. The kiss lasted couple of minutes and I felt it was unusually long for their supposedly first kiss. Yet the spectacle had worked its charm as my hand moved to my pecker and was massaging its tip to relieve my pending frustration.
Breaking the kiss suddenly, he cautioned, “please keep an eye – we don’t want to get caught in a scandalous position.”
He continued ravishing her lips. She welcomed him lovingly now as her arms now circled his shoulders holding him lovingly. He escalated the ordeal by brazenly squeezing her breasts. She moaned into his mouth as a sign of her disapproval. The entire ordeal took about five minutes but seemed much longer.
Breaking the kiss, finally, he remarked, “That felt like heaven!”
Manisha wiped her lips off the excess saliva from their kiss. She evaded my eyes cursorily but then she looked at me normally after rearranging her attire.
It was surreal. It was better than the first time Kishanchanji seduced her under our roof.
“Ever since she stepped into your life,” he exhaled, “I have longed to taste those lips.”
Looking at my bemused state, he said, “Don’t be surprised. Your education has just begun.”
“Do you follow?” he asked forcefully, shaking me from my reverie. What was I to do. The lioness had been prancing around him almost urging him to mount her. The nomadic lion didn’t yield immediately but chose the right opportunity to make a pass at her at close quarters in the presence of pride owner. It was evident that the lioness didn’t really look towards the pride owner for her sexual needs anymore.
“Your wife is hot,” he exclaimed.
“I bet she tires you in the bedroom.” Manisha blushed at his vulgar remark but she was now far more comfortable.
“Kishanchanji,” she quipped, “I am your wife too.”
“Oh yes,” he said, hugging her. This time she didn’t resist and let him pull her in.
“Here is how it works,” he started, laying down the rules.
“You had your share of fun,” he said, “now it is my turn.”
“For the next three years,” he started and glared at her as Manisha covered her mouth trying contain her laughter. She tried to control it and then quipped, “Three years is a long period Kishanchanji. Vinit may need training only for three months.”
“Where is the fun in that?”
They both laughed and even I chuckled at the light moment we were sharing.
“Besides his jealous streak cannot be cured in such a short duration,” he argued. Manisha smiled knowing that Kishanchanji really wanted a longer term. I intervened dumbly, “We needn’t worry about time periods.”
“What is important that we keep it under the covers and avoid scandals.”
“I agree,” added Kishanchanji. Manisha gave me the look that told me to keep my mouth shut.
“Well,” he said, looking at her for response.
“KIshanchanji,” she said, after collecting her thoughts, “this is a delicate matter.”
“Vinit is my rightful husband and I have married him because I love him. While it is true that we have to make certain compromises to be successful in life, I wouldn’t want to do anything that can jeopardize our marriage.So, I do think we should have time constraints.”
“Now, I do understand your earnesty here,” she added calculatedly, “and do realize the importance of your support and valuable guidance.”
“However, restricting it to a period of two years shall suffice,” she added with an air of authority.
“Well then two years it is,” he added, “more years wouldn’t hurt this old man.”
“Let’s not delay then,” he quickly added, “the executive suite is waiting for us.”
“Kishanchanji that is scandalous,” she said admonishing him, “such nocturnal activities should be restricted to our house,” she added blushing.
“Now Vinit,” he said looking at me, “if I may add for this brief period she shall be my wife first and then yours.”
“What does that mean?” I asked. The irritation and indignation in my voice was apparent.
“Let’s agree that it is important for me to fully savor relationship with my wife – and the condensed schedule only emphasizes the importance of it.”
“Kishanchanji,” said Manisha in assuring tone, covering his hand with hers, “there are no restrictions, no policies, and complete freedom to you with regards to our relationship.”
“Let me clarify,” he retorted.
“For this brief period, Manisha would only look towards me to fulfill her sexual needs.”
“That’s mean!” she blurted.
“However,” he added, “understanding the hardships this may cause to your beloved husband Vinit, I suggest that all you do is prioritize my needs over his.”
“In other words,” he further clarified, “no fun for you until I have had my share for the day or night!”
She had a bemused look on her face. She looked at me to see if I had any apprehensions. However, I was far beyond my comfort level. I had realized that if Kishanchanji wanted me to suck his penis then Manisha would cajole me into it. I just prayed that none of his perversions entailed such extreme thoughts. I grudgingly threw up my arms.
“Kishanchanji,” she interrupted, “your conditions are insidious.”
“Besides it is difficult for us to abstain from such basic needs of hugging and kissing each other.”
“So, I suggest that we don’t draw such hard lines.”
“We may reserve special days for Vinit but the bulk of the days and nights would be reserved for you.”
“However, given that your relationship is time bound, I agree, that we should prioritize it and if there is a need for more time we can override Vinit’s time, ” she added, much to my chagrin.
“As I said you would be always first!” she sexily uttered, looking at him sensually after throwing a quick glance at me.
“Are you suggesting that Vinit would not be touching you on my days?” he asked, looking straight at her.
“Kishanchanji we needn’t get into the weeds here,” she responded smartly, “let’s see how it evolves.”
“To put your mind to rest,” she continued, “let me clarify certain stipulations.”
“The sanctity of our marital bed is reserved for only you during this period.
“Vinit shall move to the guest bedroom and shall not enter our bedroom for this period.”
My embarrassed look didn’t unnerve her as she continued with her monologue.
“On your days,” she continued, “which shall we say 5 days of the week – Wednesday to Sunday – you shall have the right of first refusal.”
“On Vinit’s days as well, you shall have the right to go first,” she exuded.
“And of course there is no restriction on the number of episodes with either of you.”
“Vinit,” she looked at me with some concern, of course it wasn’t real, “we are doing this to make sure that Kishanchanji’s two years are memorable.”
“Hope you approve,” she added.
“Well, it seems I should be getting used to the notion of you having sex with other men to further our business interests.”
“So, I guess, this should help me get used to it,” I added grudgingly.
“Absolutely,” added Kishanchanji emphatically.
“Now Kishanchanji,” she interrupted, “I took quite a few liberties with my considerate husband.”
“If you would excuse us for a few minutes, I would like to speak to him alone.”
As he moved to get up, “Oh no,” she said, “you can meet us down in about 10-15 minutes in the parking lot.”
“Not before I kiss my lovely bride again,” he said and without warning planted his lips on hers. She was surprised with sudden move but yielded quickly to his aggression by parting her lips. Yet again there was no eagerness on either side as they let their tongues explore mouths and savor the occasion. Kishanchanji was leaning back as Manisha, the aggressor now was towering over him keeping her lips glued to his. The action was happening even closer to me than earlier and this time they didn’t even try to hide themselves from the inquisitive waiter. Fortunately, he kept to himself and didn’t spot them in a tight embrace. It perhaps lasted a few minutes with both of them concluding it at the same time.
Manisha wiped her lips of the excess saliva and stepped out. I followed her obediently. She lead me to the same deserted passage but this time we ventured even further. She turned around and waited for me to walk up to her. Her lips curled up in a wicked smile that someone like Kishanchanji would kill for. Her eyes were misty but the sparkle in her eyes was unmistaken. A passionate and arduous journey awaited us. She held my hand and looked at me lovingly.
“You were brave,” she quipped. Her eyes spoke; something that didn’t happen often. The texture of her hand and the delicate figure motions reminded me that I was far more dear to her now than I had ever been. She waited for a long while and then eventually moved into kiss me. It didn’t matter that just moments ago she was kissing her other husband. It seemed natural. Something she expected of me and I didn’t disappoint. Our kiss wasn’t passionate as I thought it would be but instead it engendered the same languidness of her kiss with Kishanchanji. There is something to be said about a kiss that has no end goal. A kiss that is just undertaken to taste your partner’s lips; to take in the stimulating smell of their breath; and quite literally indulging each other by exchanging copious amount of saliva.
“The two years is only to keep him in check,” she said, “you should be prepared to take on secondary role in our life.”
“Oh Manisha,” I exhaled in her mouth, “I had never imagined the effect that sort of humiliation would have on me.”
Instinctively her hands reached my groin that entrapped my raging hardon.
She whispered into my ear, “You should let him know it is okay for him to impregnate me.”
I gave her the weird look. It was evident that neither of them needed any encouragement.
“I insist,” she added haughtily. Her hand was still against my crotch, gently squeezing it.
“Was the evening planned?” I asked, turning my attention to immediate matters.
“Not much,” she quipped.
“Your subservience ensured that Kishanchanji sampled your young wife in front of your own eyes!”
Realizing that perhaps she was rubbing it in, she corrected herself, “it is characteristic trait that is essential to allow for such opportunities to breed.”
“There is no free lunch; while we gain ground in business your partners and important business associates may get progressively intimate with your wife.”
“Not that we care for our business interests,” she uttered sexily, “but we need something for them to think it is so.”
“Kishanchanji is being mean by putting curbs on how much of action you can participate in,” she said by turning my attention to his stipulations.
“While expected, we need to ensure that we reserve sometime for our intimacy.”
“Until we figure it out; you let him have the lion share of me as expected per our understanding.”
“Now let’s not keep him waiting.”
She gave me a peck and walked out. She headed to the restroom to clean herself up, in preparation to to make out with her new husband. I waited for her for about five minutes and then found her return as expected freshened up for her final rendezvous with Kishanchanji. She gave me a sly smile as we headed downstairs. Apparently, the bill was paid by Kishanchanji, so it seemed to me that he had already planned the festivities. I wondered if the waiter was one of his ploy as well.
She quipped, as we were descending the stairs, “we shall observe a brief engagement ceremony.” And holding my hand, she added, “you are going to give your wife’s hand to him.”
“Here is the ring I want you to pass it to me.”
Her words sent a chill up my spine as I held the box in my hand. Kishanchanji stood by our car. The parking lot was deserted and there was little chance of anyone spotting us that night. It was not nice and warm; the perfect kind of weather a romantic couple would long for. Kishanchanji’s beaming smile gave me the shivers as what Manisha wanted me to do played in my mind.
Kishanchanji didn’t look at me and neither did he ask for my permission as he pulled her into him lovingly. His hands encircled her naked waist and were holding her against his groin while Manisha still had my hand in a tight clasp. Yet again the stark contrast between them was evident.
In the dim light, her fair complexion was noticeable but Kishanchanji’s features were barely visible. There wasn’t any nervousness in her demeanor, if at all she had the glow of a newly wedded wife.
“Vinit,” she prodded me, motioning with her eyes. I mustered courage and opened my mouth but my voice stuttered as I said, “Kiisshhaanji pleeaase accept my wife as yours!”
He looked at me mocking while holding his prized possession. Noticing the box in my hand, he pulled out a box from his pocket. Wanting for balance he momentarily left her alone as he opened the box carefully to show another of his diamond rings. This one looked equally expensive but was smaller in size compared to the one he gave her the first time.
Manish quickly presented her ring finger for him to place the ring. The bigger ring was behind our vanilla ring now and stayed comfortably saddled between two diamond rings that complemented each other well. Likewise, she pushed another ring onto his stubby ring finger. And then Manisha towering over him moved in to kiss him. She comfortably rested her arms around his shoulders as Kishanchanji grabbed her by her waist. She kissed him passionately; to an onlooker it appeared that she was the aggressor.
Breaking the kiss she said, “I am yours Kishanchanji.” He smiled. She glanced at me, implying what my next move was supposed to be. I opened the back door of our car for them.Manisha let herself in first; Kishanchanji followed sneering at me.
As they sat comfortably inside, seating themselves decorously, waiting for me to take my position in the driving seat. I sat there and waited for my wife’s cue.
“Well,” she started, “first things first – let me first start by thanking you.”
“Words cannot describe the privilege you shall be enjoying,” she said in a cautious tone.
“Just the way we cannot express our gratitude to your hand in steading our rocking business.”
“Yet, we expect utmost secrecy from you with what has transpired and anything that may transpire in the coming years.”
“In return, we offer you a beautiful, young wife, younger than your daughters for your pleasure.”
“And it is my earnest endeavor to pleasure you in every which way you imagined your wife to do.”
“Towards that end,” she said looking at me carefully, “let me lay down the ground rules for our understanding.” She carefully enunciated her conditions, most of which dismayed me and certainly entertained him.
She looked at me before starting, “We have already discussed this,” she said, “but it is best if we share it in front of Kishanchanji so that their is no confusion.”
Then she turned to him and said, “Although there is no need to sweeten the deal for you Kishanchanji.”
“It is not everyday such opportunities of having a young and beautiful wife willing to be intimate with you physically and emotionally present themselves.”
“While it is true,” she interjected Kishanchanji who was about retort back, “that in your hay days you may have sampled other young wifes – these are not exactly your hay days and neither was any of them in my league.”
“Absolutely not,” he agreed, “but I am quite certain you won’t be disappointed.” She smiled.
“Given the delicate nature of the affair, we expect absolute secrecy from you.”
“None should know what transpires under our roof.”
“And just to clarify nothing shall happen in your house.”
“You are right,” he said, “we should be careful.”
“You can be assured that I wouldn’t jeopardize such an opportunity ever.”You should also not indulge in any other affairs during this period,” she added.
“Hmm…” he thought for a few moments.
“Actually, there is one issue here – my two daughters have been pressurizing me to get married again,” he said, “and they have been setting me up with these elderly ladies who have not much interest in anything but playing cards and gossiping.”
Manisha chuckled; I too laughed realizing how a middle aged woman could quench his desire.
“We need to let them in on the secret.”
“What?” I intruded.
“That is no way to keep a secret.”
It was dark in the car so there wasn’t much they could convey non verbally.
“They are smart girls,” Kishanchanji assured, “and this isn’t completely unusual for them. They know their Father has had a taste for adventure.”
Manisha added, “may be it isn’t such a bad idea but they would have to swear not to share it with their husbands.”
“Absolutely – besides which son-in-law would want to put up with such a father-in-law?”
I exhaled in frustration as Manisha kept on acceding to each of his demands. Little did I realize that she perhaps didn’t have much of an option. Perhaps his daughters already knew about it.
“I am quite sure they would approve,” added Kishanchanji.
“This is obviously an education for Vinit,” she started.
“Hence, the emphasis is to maximize the opportunities to control his jealousy,” she said.
“Aah…” Kishanchanji interjected, irritatedly, “scratch that – it sounds too pristine.”
“Vinit having wedded such a beautiful wife and as an owner of a fledgling business has to learn,” he started, looking at both of us.
“to rein in his jealous streak and adapt to this lifestyle.”
My heart sank as I heard Kishanchanji meting out verbal humiliation with impunity.
“And hence this period has been chosen to help Vinit adapt to the new lifestyle that is supposed to bring prosperity to your lives but more importantly help Vinit educate about his rightful place in your married life.”
He nodded her to continue with the rules that she was about to lay out.
She started after brief hesitation, “Manisha shall be primarily Kishanchanji’s wife during this period.”
“Essentially,” added Kishanchanji, “she shall only approach Kishanchanji to quench her physical needs and only reciprocate to his overtures.”
“Wait a minute,” I intruded.
“Hold on,” Manisha intervened, shutting me out.
“However,” Kishanchanji continued, “knowing that such harsh conditions are unsustainable Manisha may indulge Vinit at her discretion after having fulfilled her duties towards her primary husband.”
“Such indulgence,” clarified Manisha, “shall not involve any form of penetrative sex.”
“Except,” she added, before I could object, “the two days when Vinit is entitled to spend the nights with me.”
“And even on those nights,” Kishanchanji added reiterating the point he had made earlier, “Manisha shall seek to first fulfill her duties towards her primary husband.”
“As a token of appreciation,” continued Manisha, “to allow penetrative sex during this period, Vinit shall always use a condom preserving the right of the primary husband to ejaculate in his wife.”
“What about the special occasions?” I asked mockingly. They perhaps missed my tone in the heat of their dialogue and Manisha promptly added, “the special occasions are exclusively reserved for the primary husband under all circumstances.”
“If deemed necessary,” she clarified, “the secondary husband shall arrange for it that the occasions don’t get diluted due to sundry family affairs.”
“That should summarize it right?” she asked him. Her voice clearly betraying her demure and calculated state.
“There is one little thing about the time period itself,” he responded, hesitantly.
“Does it have to be only two years?” Manisha chuckled.
“Kishanchanji,” she quickly retorted, “don’t push your luck.”
“This is as good as it gets!”
“Okay – if you insist then I shall not waste any opportunity,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her. She held back and glanced at me to see my response.
“Vinit do you approve?” she asked. I wasn’t clear about what she was asking as she had made it clear before the discussion that it was our understanding.
“Kishanchanji has been like a father figure to you – do you really mind if he overstayed his welcome?”
“As I recollect,” she answered it herself, “he didn’t object to the duration,” she said, “but it is only responsible of us to utilize these privileges judiciously.”
“As part of our mutual understanding,” she continued, “Vinit agreed to offer you more than your share of the relationship with me and I shall see to it that I give you the very best.”
“We can always visit this question later on – if it is in the best interest of our marriage to continue this any further.”
“Now then,” she said confidently, “if you could please drive Kishanchanji and me home.”
“Do take the internal streets and drive carefully,” she added, “as I don’t see Kishanchanji waiting to reach home.”
“Actually,” he countered her, “I really want to reach home quickly.” I started the car as Kishanchanji scooted next to her. He kissed her lovingly and so did she. There was certain chemistry in their love that I had apparently missed all these days and even the emotional intimacy that she shared with him was far too insulting to me. They whispered to each other quietly, the road noise made it difficult for me to eavesdrop on them. It hardly took any time for us to head back as the traffic had eased considerably.
Manisha said, “Vinit, Kishanchanji just confided that he had fantasized about taking my virginity on our wedding night.”
“Such an interesting notion, right?” she asked teasingly.
I didn’t respond but my deepest fears were coming true. Kishanchanji would know how servile I was when it came to sex. The day didn’t seem far where he would know that all of this was transpiring due to my persistence. Yet, I knew that not talking was perhaps the right approach; unless that is the only approach left.
“So, Kishanchanji how far back does your fascination for me date?” she asked. Obviously it was her attempt to make me aware of what may have transpired in the past.
“Well,” he responded hesitantly, “to be honest from the very first moment we met.”
“I should have guessed,” she promptly replied, “the way you shook hands and the way you caressed my waist.”
As my mind raced back to the days when I may have introduced her. It was hazy; probably a nondescript event. Yet, Manisha’s comment implied that she may have had misgivings about their first meeting. Manisha have been a few months shy of her 19th birthday; soon after that we got married. The age difference between them sent shivers down my spine. Although, she didn’t ask the follow up question – when did she start fancying him – it did crop in my mind.
“Vinit,” she said looking at me, “I think we should make this a special event for Kishanchanji.”
“There are a few things up there in our bedroom,” she said, “could you please go and do the needful?”
“What?”
“It’s a surprise,” she seethed, “you can figure it out – we want to make it a memorable experience for Kishanchanji.”
Reluctantly, I headed out but then Manisha called me again, “Oh honey, could you please open the door for us?”
Her little requests were annoying me – yet at the very same time I knew that they caused a painfully stiff erection.
Stepping into the house, she turned to Kishanchanji and looked at him proudly.
“KIshanchanji from today I am your wife,” she exhaled.
“However, just for this night,” she seethed, “I would rather have you think that I am Vinit’s wife and that this is our very first night together.”
She smiled and motioned me to move upstairs to finish the chore she had asked me to do. I tiptoed upstairs not looking at either of them. Entering the bedroom, I noticed that it was well made; the bed had brand new sheets. The room itself was clutter free. By the dressing table, I saw a few items which I inspected. Looking at them it was clear what she really wanted me to do.
She wanted me to make the bed for them. Spread the rose petals on the bed; sprinkle the perfume she had included it on the bed. Essentially mimic the night she wanted to relive. Strangely, the thought stirred my loins again. Manisha was pushing all the right buttons and her little plan had turned out to be a roaring success so far.
I did the needful and stepped out quickly. They were waiting for me in the living room. Manisha requested him to go ahead and waited for him to climb the stairs. She looked at me sensuously, her sultry eyes conveyed the passion. She grabbed my hand and lead me to the kitchen. Pushing me against the wall she kissed my neck but avoided my lips.
Looking at me crossly, she said, “This is the end of your life as the man of this house.”
“Like an obedient husband, you chose the alpha male to lead your family and to screw your wife.”
“Just in case you have any doubts,” she said sternly, “this is not stopping.”
“Your disgusting, old neighbor is going to make love to your wife every night and help expand your family.”
Manisha was obstinate when it came to certain things. Once she made her mind it was usually difficult to convince her to do otherwise. And over the years, I have also learned the look she gave me when she implied not to mess with her. It was a unique characteristic that she used to her advantage with the men in her life.
She moved in calculatedly and whispered into my ear, “if you haven’t realized I am in fertile period.”
“Kishanchanji and I would be making a baby tonight.”
“Honey,” she quipped, “show me your approval by preparing my cunt for him.”
It took hardly any time for me to make up my mind and comply with her request. Strangely, I really didn’t want this to end. I wanted Kishanchanji to be sleeping in our bedroom with her on a regular basis but I also wanted her to take care of me on a regular basis. In retrospect, I do feel there is a certain charm to sleep with your unfaithful wife as you caress and explore her defiled body. Hug her tummy that is nurturing someone else’s seed. Manisha didn’t quite deny me this pleasure but she certainly put a high price tag on this.I was listless the whole night. Life had taken such a radical turn; something that I didn’t anticipate. It took me a while to come to terms with my wife’s new found enthusiasm for our elderly neighbor. As explained earlier, what bothered me was the openness with which she decided to make me her cuckold.
I expected Manisha and Kishanchanji to savor the whole night. Neither of them showed up in the morning as per the regular routine. Up until the time I left for work for my meeting with Amirchanji, they were still asleep. Drudging yourself through work while having a stiff erection is always a challenge. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted her to get pregnant and deliver a child in exactly nine months. It only seemed befitting.
I dreaded calling home to talk to Manisha but then my phone rang. It was an unknown number and I picked it up to see who it was. It was Mamta, Kishanchanji’s elder daughter. She wanted to talk to me urgently and asked me to head to Kishanchanji’s place at earliest convenience. She warned me not to let anyone know; not even my wife and Kishanchanji. The fear of getting caught in the act gnawed me from the inside. I suspected that Mamta knew about the relationship.
Summoning courage, I headed home. It wasn’t easy entering Kishanchanji’s house without getting noticed but I managed to push the bell keeping myself concealed from our house to the extent possible. I expected Kishanchanji to be at our home, so wasn’t worried about getting caught by him. Mamta opened the door and let me in and then carefully closed the door. She took my hand, gesturing me to keep quiet, and lead me to the downstairs guest bedroom. My heart was thumping wildly from the fear of what she was about to show me. I thought she was leading me to catch Kishanchanji and Manisha in a compromising position in front of me. However, it wasn’t just me who was sweating; she too was nervous. Mamta was couple of years elder to me and I always fancied her. Over the years she put on weight and was now rather plump. However, her adorable face still retained the same charm. She had more of wheatish complexion – a mixture of her mother’s and Kishanchanji’s complexion. She of course had pretty features just like her mother and was cute to say the least. She had slightly roundish face with medium sized lips and wide smile. Her eyes were big and beautiful and her hair long and dense. She was a mother of two kids already and all that showed on her waist. As these thoughts sailed through my mind, she led me to the guest bedroom and opened the door. To my surprise and satisfaction, it was empty. She closed the door after me and after having carefully bolted the door, she turned towards me. There was only a moment’s hesitation before she embraced me. She didn’t waste much time and pulled me into a kiss. It was swift. She didn’t allow me any chance to fend her off but given my attraction towards her I didn’t think of that as a real possibility. She kissed me passionately and I didn’t hesitate either. It was the first time I kissed another woman. It was a surreal experience. I thought about the privilege that Manisha was having. Her body odor was different, her body dimensions were different and her approach was different. Instead of pushing her tongue into my mouth, she focused more on sucking my lip and encouraged me to do the same. Manisha’s approach was to swirl her tongue around mine and exchange copious amount of saliva in the process. We didn’t exchange any words and she quickly pulled on the bed and urged me to penetrate her.
“Don’t worry,” she said as I wondered about the possibility of taking her bare back, “I have already had the operation.”
She was plump but not fat. And for her age she just seemed perfect. Irrespective of her dimensions the satisfaction she gave me was very much on par with what I experienced with Manisha. She kissed me a lot more than I expected and surprisingly she didn’t have any kind of inhibitions. We didn’t engage in any other kind of sexual activity apart from missionary style sex that afternoon. She encouraged me to cum inside her and was extremely satisfied by the time I did. Her pussy was rather dilated for my taste but she enjoyed the brief interlude with me.
As she tidied her clothes, she quipped, “You may be wondering how this all came about.”
“I assured Manisha that if she became my father’s wife then I would return the favor wholeheartedly.”
Her sentence took my breath away. And for a moment I didn’t understand what kind of quandary I walked into but she immediately assured me, “Your secret is safe with me.”
“I don’t want my husband to find out about the affair with you either.”
It seemed that Manisha had already planned for this but I wasn’t sure that was indeed the case. Just as I thought of last night’s episode with Kishanchanji. Turns out that these actions independently determined my fate but the primary motive was Kishanchanji’s satisfaction.
“When did this happen?”
“And why are you doing this?” I asked stunned by her cavalier approach.
“I am sorry if this has hurt you but this wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t willing,” she started.
“But I have been blindsided by yours and Manisha’s evil plans.”
“Oh come on; please don’t cast any aspersions on Manisha’s intentions.”
“You know that she is doing for your mutual pleasure.”
“Besides you too would be having the fringe benefits,” she added.
“Even Malini is on the plan,” she added. Malini was her younger sister, couple of years elder to Manisha. So, these two beautiful ladies were willing to entertain me, just so that their father could make out with my wife. Weird I thought. What seemed weirder was how they must have corned my wife into it.
“Our relationship – yours and mine – would be lifelong,” she said.
“All I ask is that you extend the agreement to three years.”
It seemed Manisha had shared with them everything. I didn’t think her father would do anything of that sort.
“Do you realize how scandalous that sounds?”
“And,” she said ignoring my remark, “you would encourage her to conceive from my father.”
“What kind of crazy pot are you folks on?”
“Why are you folks doing this?”
“Wait,” she said, “Malini is contemplating on giving an opportunity to plant your seeds.”
The suddenness of the events and the rapid pace at which things were unfolding stunned me. Come to think of it – this is how it should have been. Why was I thinking that? I was the architect of my wife’s philandering. It was hers if not Mamta and Malini’s sowing. Malini unlike her sister was a little fairer and much thinner. She never had the contours of her elder sister and neither did she have the beauty of her elder sister but she was pretty and had the fair complexion to go with it. However, her frail body and almost flat chest never evoked any special kind of feeling. I would have much rather preferred inseminating Mamta, who was perhaps wholesome and more feminine.
“You still didn’t answer my question?”
“We are doing it for our father and he is mostly doing to humiliate you,” she said nonchalantly.
“However, in this case, he seems to genuinely like her and with your cooperation he may actually have an eventful second marriage.”
“Why Manisha?”
“Because she is beautiful; more importantly she is your wife.”
“It may, however, never have escalated to this level if Manisha and you weren’t willing.”
“Why are you so cryptic?”
“You would understand as things progress – just remember to let my father enjoy his new marriage and we would make sure you are never sexually deprived.”
“What sort of a proposal is that?”
“We are counting on him knocking her up three times – and don’t worry about the financial implications of raising a large family. He would take care of everything for them.”
My head was whirling. I had known Mamta for several years but never did I realize once that she would be such a bitch. On the contrary, she always seemed to be of pleasant disposition.
“Mamta,” I pleaded, holding her hand and making her sit on the bed, “I really need to understand this.”
“Please be kind to me.”
For once, the kindness in her eyes returned and she had a mellowed expression on her face. She looked at me intently. Her abrasiveness; rather her harried nature stopped for a few moments. She contemplated on what to say and what not to.
“Vinit,” she said, “a zillion questions may be floating through your mind.”
“And you may be now suspecting Manisha’s love and her dedication to your family.”
“But,” she said, holding my hand carefully in hers, “I assure you that this is not reflection of her love.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Vinit, trust me,” she said in a concerned tone, “I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“It is not ordinary, I agree,” she added, “but then so would be my relationship with you as well.”
“Mamta it is not comforting,” I responded, “but it would be if you shared the truth.”
“What truth?”
“How does it matter?”
“Why do men crave for such things?” she blurted out in frustration. Mamta was visibly upset. It seems she didn’t want to share the details but I had put her in a dilemma.
“Look,” she said, “just simply accept that my father can pleasure your wife far better than you ever could imagine.”
“All those women over the years didn’t show up for no good reason,” she shot at me.
“But,” I interjected trying to calm her down, “I am not complaining.”
“I would just like to understand it.”
She gave me a weird look and said, “First accept it.”
“What?”
“Accept that my father is a better lover for her.”
It was one thing to admit it in front of your wife and quite another to do so in front of someone else. My silence conveyed my answer but that didn’t please her.
“Such is the hypocrisy of men.”
“Most men live in their secluded world imagining that they are the best in everything.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” she argued, “you are a better lover than my husband.”
“But there is a chasm between you and my father.”
“Manisha needs someone like him to justify the beauty nature has bestowed on her.”
“You are not in a state to understand,” she gave me a smirk.
“Remember,” She said, “whether you like it or not, she has taken him as her husband.”
“There is no backing down.”
“Keep our relationship a secret and you wouldn’t regret it,” she said smiling.
I headed back to my office after that. I wasn’t sure I was prepared for what awaited me at home yet. Amirchanji wasn’t terribly upset with me for not showing up last night but there was tons of work that needed my attention. Manisha’s call brought me back to my current situation.
She asked, “Aren’t you coming home?”
“It would be dinner time soon.” I checked my watch; it was already 7:30pm. Surprisingly I didn’t realize once I got into my work.
“Would be home in half-an-hour,” I replied.
“Come soon,” she quipped.
Manisha opened the door for me eagerly. She had been waiting for me. Kishanchanji was watching TV, I thought. After bolting the door, she latched onto my lips and kissed me passionately. She was fresh. Her hair had mild fragrance of the shampoo and her body had the tenderness and warmth that only comes after taking a hot shower. She was hot and pushed me into the downstairs restroom and locked the door.
“I have been hungry for you,” she exclaimed between the kisses.
“Why?”
“Hasn’t he made you with you today?” I asked.
“Are you kidding?”
“He fucked me five times since last night already!”
“I feel like making out with you as well,” she reasoned and continued her kissing.
There was something about her kissing that evening. It instilled a great deal of faith in my ability to pleasure her as a man. It is always difficult to find yourself in an inferior position and particularly so when it comes to the sex department. However, quite often, and this is my realization over the past several years, it is not a question of either-or. It is simply a question of the delicate balance between the two options and their relative priorities.
The dinner was ordinary; just seemed nothing had transpired. Manisha had already moved my stuff to the guest room. Kishanchanji headed to bed early, perhaps exhausted by the activities during the day. Manisha and I stayed back and spend time with each other. We didn’t talk much about what happened but just shared our feelings of the current situation. She didn’t allow me to makeout with her, promising that sometime during the night she would drop in after Kishanchanji fucks her.
Manisha didn’t show up that night. She shared later that he did screw her in the wee hours but the action had left little desire to see me. There was a repeat of same welcome from her again. Her pristine state surprised me again. Inside the restroom, I asked again,
“What’s up with your fresh breath?”
“Do you folks keep busy all day?”
“Well that’s there and then I wanted to be fresh and ready for you.”
I was puzzled by her reaction. She had aimed earlier to keep herself in the stale state and make out in that state with me.
“Really?” I asked, showing my surprise.
“Vinit,” she seethed, “fantasy is good within limits.”
“I have always liked keeping myself fresh and ready for you,” she added.
“Besides you have given me the best gift.”
We kissed passionately. My life had change significantly in the past few days but seeing her love for me, I realized that perhaps this phase of our life is not as bad as it seemed to me originally. However, one should not mistake a desert to an oasis after spending a few days at one.
“What gift?” I asked her breaking the kiss.
“Getting the middle aged bull for your wife,” she whispered.
“He is quite something; fucks me three times everyday.”
“There is no stopping him,” she uttered. I chuckled.
“Seriously Vinit,” she exuded, “in the past month we had more sex than we did in the first three months of our marriage.”
She looked beautiful in the dim glow of the light in the restroom. Her face glowed. And it just seemed it was the result of the sexual satisfaction.
“And you know what he is a total pervert,” she exclaimed excitedly.
“You will get know about it slowly.”
“BTW, he wants to go on a cruise for honeymoon.”
“He didn’t want you to be around,” she said, “but I insisted.”
“Honeymoon?” I frowned at the audacity of the old man. But then we both had given him the leeway.
“We are going this Friday,” she said. She kissed me again and headed out.
“And BTW,” she said, slithering back into my arms again, “the stale breath and unhygienic conditions can be arranged on special days.”
The next three days were the repeat and none of those times she made it to the guest bedroom.
It wasn’t clear what the bad new was – whether it was that she was going for honeymoon with him or that I would be forced to tag along with them.
It meant more abstinence for me; at least at home I kissed her on a regular basis. However, when she reminded me to carry my condoms, I knew that there would be some action for me. It was great news as I hadn’t had intercourse with her for the whole month now.
Kishanchanji had returned to his normal self and apart from the time he spent alone with her, he behaved normally I hoped there wouldn’t be much of his misbehavior again.
Without much fanfare we checked into the cruise ship. We were spending three nights and four days on the cruise. Manisha definitely must have planned for a splendid honeymoon, keeping me on the verge all along I thought.
I wondered how she would manage her motherhood duties and yet pleasure her new husband. Tushar was only a little more than a year old, so it was unlikely that I could take care of him the whole night. Little did I realize that it was not a quandary for her at all. Instead of separate rooms for both us, she opted for a better room with the view of ocean but only one for all the three of us. It was tiny – only about 120-150 square feet but had essentially space for sleeping of four individuals.
There was a private balcony and right next to the entrance of the balcony was the double bed. On the left side there was the bathroom and by the side of the bathroom; the small alley that lead to the main entrance had a bunker bed on one side while the TV and entertainment system was right opposite to it. It was cramped but I felt it was better than having two separate rooms that could have cost a fortune. The added advantage was that the double bed was only about 5-6 feet from the edge of the bunker bed where I would most likely be based. It would be safe for Tushar to sleep on the lower bed, so the elevated seat offered me the best possible position in that setting.
The song and dance started that very night. Tushar having suckled on her Mother’s breasts for about half hour was blissfully asleep. She had already prepared herself for the event. Kishanchanji was in the bathroom and when she put him to bed and turned to me and kissed me lightly on my lips.
“This is it,” she whispered, snaking her tongue out to trace my lips, “Kishanchanji would not be voluntarily yielding his place in the bed.”
“Did you get your condoms?” she asked, sexily. I nodded. Her eyes conveyed the excitement.
“You can enjoy the feeling of dipping it in tonight then.”
“Can’t assure that you would feel much, though,” she teased and left me.
“Honey,” he said, stepping towards her, sneering at me, “wouldn’t this invade our privacy?”
“It would have been better if we had a separate room.”
“Kishanchanji, I am your wife,” she answered, leading him to the bed, “there is no need to hide anything.”
“We keep the lights off or dim them but there is no reason for us to curtail our activities.”
“Can’t he overhear it?”
“Most likely he can, he isn’t far away,” she said looking at me, knowing very well that I would have wanted this way.
“But,” she said in her assured tone, stepping closer to him, “Honey he needs to know that you treat your wife well.”
“I promise,” she said, looking at me, “he would be obedient.”
She switched off the lights and kissed him right there in front of me. It took me a few moments for my eyes to get adjusted but the lights from the bathroom area allowed me to see the silhouettes. She pushed him back on the bed and proceeded to give him a blow job. The next hour was agonizingly painful for me as I heard the moaning and slurping sounds of my wife. He took her in all kinds of positions before unloading into her. She fellated him at least twice already I thought and I saw her do that again after he lay on his back. She obediently cleaned him up before settling back on the bed. I wondered when the next time would be as I dozed off. And then I felt a hand on my stomach. It slid within a few moments to my pecker that had shrunk back to normal size.
Manisha was standing by the bed and nuzzling my neck as her hand moved into my underwear and massaged my penis. As I woke from my slumber, she kissed me. Her tongue darted into my mouth in no time. Her breath was stale and reeked of semen. Not that mine was any better. I kissed her back as soon as I realized that it wasn’t a dream. My penis swelled very soon in her hand. It just seemed that I would get to penetrate her. Her hand gently squeezed my sacs as well that had been working overtime producing semen that had no place to go but into the filthy condom. She climbed up on the berth and laid on top me and continued her kissing. It was very tight with little wiggle room but I didn’t mind. She ground her hips against my pelvis, rubbing my penis but her whole attention was on the kissing. She was practically drooling in my mouth; something very unusual of her but the wetness provided a lot of satisfaction to both of us. I moved to her breasts and latched onto her breasts that were leaking milk. It usually happened when she was extremely excited. And she had shared that Kishanchanji loved draining her milk. In fact, her milk production had actually increased very much in the past month and she suspected that she may not get easily pregnant even though her periods had started.She moaned as I nibbled on her nipples that were unusually sensitive that evening. I wasn’t sure how long ago she had sex with him but I didn’t care given that Manisha herself had made her way to me. The next five or ten minutes I stayed latched to her breasts. My hand moved to her wet pantie and massaged her vagina from the outside. The sticky substance had permeated through her pantie and although I had fancy notions of such eventuality, the flimsy, sticky experience left a lot to be desired. A few moments later, my hand slithered into her pantie and found it inundated with the sticky substance.
“It’s yuk!” I complained.
“I know,” she whispered back.
“Where is the condom?”
“Kept it somewhere here,” I said, searching for it near my pillow.
“You had a fascination for it,” she whispered, “won’t you like to taste it?”
She didn’t have the sexual innuendo in her voice. It was an element of surprise at the reaction we both had at an anticipated experience for a while. She actually knew that this would be difficult unless she cleaned up a little but then we always wanted to experience this in its raw state.
“Do you want me to?” I asked.
“Didn’t you dream of it?” she pushed me.
“He has practically hosed me,” she sensually whispered into my ear. It was evident that she wanted it. My hand still searched for the elusive condom but I found myself sliding southwards under her. She supported herself as I slid a little down but she had to move up to accommodate that awkward position on that bed.
My tongue licked the sticky substance. Compared to the earlier experiences, this was bitter. Manisha had carefully cleaned herself during the earlier times, I thought. She positioned herself carefully on top of me and then slid the gusset aside to expose her pussy lips. The pungent odor unnerved me but I braved and stuck out my tongue into the mess. Her whole body convulsed and an audible moan escaped her mouth. It was indeed messy and much different from my expectation. Firstly, it was slimy and secondly it had a bitter, acerbic taste that I didn’t like. However, I continued eating her in the hope that I would get used to the taste. My efforts were not going wasted as Manisha’s breath quickened and she started grinding her cunt on my lips. I had always imagined licking her while she was on her back but the new position made it even more exciting. The thick substance descended into my mouth much easily and in a matter of minutes her cunt was clean for her next round with Kishanchanji.
We got back into our positions; her still on top of me and soon she unrolled the condom on my penis. In one swift motion my penis was lodged inside her and the funny thing was she didn’t wince even once. Her pussy was well dilated and that experience remained a lasting memory.
She kissed me and helped me clean my lips of their combined juices. Between her humps, she whispered, “Thanks for eating me in that state.”
“I was not expecting but hoping you would.”
“Can’t wait to see him unload directly into your mouth!” she mumbled excitedly.
“Really?”
“You want that?”
“Sort of,” she quickly corrected herself, “but more importantly Kishanchanji would want that.”
“Don’t count on it,” I retorted, knowing very well that I was deep in the rabbit hole already.
The sloppy seconds sex was a little too slick for my experience. Even with my heightened state, I screwed her for about 15 minutes or so. Very long compared to the previous times. We both wondered what was so different and why did it last that long. Upon careful reflection, when we both were sober, we agreed that it was the condom, her dilated state of the pussy that was also well lubricated with both their juices.
She soon headed back to her primary husband; she cleaned herself up before going back to bed.
I was too exhausted to keep an eye on her but was certain there was another round before dawn. Fortunately, Tushar was cooperative and none of us had to wake up middle of the night.
The next day was pleasant. Manisha made sure that she spent her time with Kishanchanji most of the time with me leaving to attend to Tushar for most of the time. Tushar didn’t miss his mother as she attended to him every how and then made sure that he was breastfed despite being on her little honeymoon.
After the dinner, the drama started again. It was Kishanchanji again but I was quite certain that they both had planned it.
“Manisha I have a complaint,” he started, “regarding out arrangement.”
“Firstly,” he shot at her, “we don’t have any privacy.”
“Secondly, you have let him fuck you last night when it is our honeymoon.”
Whether Kishanchanji was a good actor or he had rehearsed those lines several hundred times I do not know but it came out perfectly. He was visibly upset and hearing that Manisha’s harried state ensued.
“The used condom in the dust bin gave it away,” he shared.
She hugged him sensually and reasoned, “at least he is using a condom.”
Tushar was nicely tucked in the bed and I was getting to my abode but this conversation bothered me. It seemed they took the arrangement a little too seriously and Manisha started behaving as if she was his actual wife. Perhaps this was always her intention but in all the stories we read, it usually was limited to sexual action. Given the situation I believed that may be there would be some altercation and they wouldn’t make out that night and that would mean no pleasure for me.
“You broke your promise,” he complained.
“Kishanchanji,” she whispered, “he too is my husband and deserves my love and affection – even during this period.”
“Penetrative sex was allowed,” she reasoned, “besides you had your turn first already.”
“If he defiles you, how can we have a second turn?”
I was annoyed to hear this kind of language from him but was unsure how to react. Most such interactions she had handled and I left it to her.
“Absolutely not – I always clean up after I have been with him.”
“There is no trace of him on me when I come back to you.”
“On the contrary,” she continued, “my body is inundated with your fluids when I head to him.”
“There is absolutely no such privilege for him.”
“He knows my body is your vessel.”
Kishanchanji shook his head.
“What is the issue?” I intervened.
She looked at me, almost pleading to keep my temper in check, which always flared up during such instances. She had explained to me earlier that during such moments she wanted me to first keep calm and secondly act subservient to him. When I complained back with my retort that I might as well suck his dick, she responded that such a day was definitely there in my future.
“Kishanchanji, my apologies,” I pleaded, “It is not Manisha’s mistake.”
“It has been a while and yesterday we got carried away.”
“Don’t I satisfy you?” he reproached her.
“No Kishanchanji that’s not the reason.”
“It’s ecstatic with you but it’s only me who is benefiting, at least sexually, from this association.”
“I need to share this with him as well.”
“Trust me,” she assured him, “he wouldn’t touch me until I have been with you during this period.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“It’s only kissing and oral sex,” she clarified.
“No kissing as well,” he added.
“Whatever you say,” she responded coyly.
Kishanchanji’s eyes lit up as soon as he heard those words from her. He embraced her right in front of my eyes. I was half naked while Manisha was wearing her flimsy nightie. In their normal attire, Manisha would tower over Kishanchanji but without her high heels, she was couple of inches taller than him. She bent down to offer him a kiss and tenderly kissed his lips. It was love more than kissing. Between her kisses, she whispered, “I am all yours.”
Kishanchanji hugged her tightly, thrusting his pelvis forward. Her well-built body looked slender in front of Kishanchanji’s short and stout stature.
“You are mine,” he repeated her message, kissing her tenderly. And every time I looked at them, standing not more than five feet away from them, I felt utterly humiliated.
It wasn’t the fact that she was having sex with him but the fact that she was so closely connected to him. In her physical actions there was tender love that I saw; a chemistry that I could have hardly imagined. Kishanchanji was twice her age and she was as good as a newly married wife. Even during the day when I did eavesdrop on them when I was taking care of Tushar while they were enjoying their honeymoon. I wasn’t consciously trying to find them in that crowd but it so happened that I found them on the deck a little late in the evening. It was getting dark and I was inside the restaurant but could see them through the glass window. They weren’t plainly visible in sight but were standing around the corner. To say that I felt jealous would be an understatement. The love of newly married couple was apparent. He adored her and she reciprocated. They were physical as expected from such a couple during their honeymoon period but the chemistry was electrifying. Sitting there I was nursing a stiff erection while he romanced her. For more than half-an-hour they exchanged sweet nothings; that included little petting and groping as well. If I had thought that Kishanchanji would be proud to show off his new wife then I was completely wrong. It was Manisha who proudly showed her new husband and clung to him the whole day.
Returning back to Kishanchanji’s and Manisha’s current romance situation.
“The next two years of my existence is only for you,” she continued. Her kissing was getting wetter now.
“Are you hearing it?” said Kishanchanji, smirking at me.
“He agrees already,” she quickly answered, glancing at me.
“Show him honey,” she urged, “Undress me for him.”
I obediently held the helm of her nightie by bending down and lifted it up to uncover her shapely legs and then her butt and finally her nice body.
She wore a brassiere that held her breasts securely and a matching French cut pantie that hugged her wide hips perfectly. She again clung to Kishanchanji in what seemed like a mesmerizing sight with his dark skinned, hairy body perfectly contrasting her milky white complexion. She continued showering her kisses as I watched their amorous foreplay stupefied.
“Make me yours,” she continued his praise, “use me whichever way you like.”
“Only request,” she said, breaking her kiss and looking into his eyes, “that you don’t distance him from me.”
“I strongly desire to be intimate with him,” she added, “this only makes the bond stronger.”
“Besides doesn’t he have to know that you are taking good care of your wife?”
“Why does that need penetrative sex,” he interjected.
“Kishanchanji,” she pleaded, “you are stuck on that.”
“Our objective is not penetrative sex,” she reasoned, “it is getting intimate with each other on a regular basis.”
“Even during this period I want to be physically and emotionally connected to Vinit.”
“Still Kishanchanji,” she continued her reasoning, “it won’t be everyday!”
“And Kishanchanji,” she added, “it won’t be without impunity. He is agreeing to extend the relationship to three years.”
“Now isn’t that something?” she sexily exuded and kissed him on his lips.
“Absolutely,” he exhaled, “I love your breath,” he said kissing her back.
“And I love everything about you,” she responded.
“Two years – three years; what’s the difference?”
“We all know our bedroom doors are open for you always.”
“However, these three years,” she added excitedly, “are only for you.”
“My heart, my soul, my body, is all for you!”
She pushed him back on the bed and laying ontop of him started kissing him.
“Don’t stand there honey,” she said, “Help him get undressed.”
Unsure about what she expected I sat on the bed next to them while she continued her kissing. Kishanchanji was wearing the old style pajamas that elderly Indian men usually wore at home. I tugged on the knot gently and it came undone. She urged him to lift his butt while I tried pull of his pajamas. He wore the old boxer style underwear that comfortably concealed his package but gave away the size of the concealed package quite easily. If I were to contrast mine with his then it his seemed more like a medium sized cucumber stuffed in ones trousers while mine seemed like a medium size carrot. There is no special emphasis needed to clarify the differences but I felt compelled to convey the gravity of the difference we are looking at. It was evident that any woman would absolutely not choose me over him if that was the sole criteria.
“Don’t be shy?” she said, moving southwards.
“Kishanchanji wants you to get properly introduced to his proud possession.”
She slid down his boxer shorts and pulled out his semi-flaccid penis. Her fingers were delicately wrapped around it and it just seemed that in fully erect state her fingers would have tough time touching her thumb while holding his erect penis. The next thing, I noticed about it was that it was dark; I mean so dark that it just seemed as if it belonged to an African person. Not to mention her daintily, pale fingers providing quite a contrast while she showed it off.
The next thing she did was to show his unusually large testicles. Now, I have heard that as men age their testicles grow in size but in the case of Kishanchanji they were really big and meaty. Mine were the size of a small lemon, but his were at least one and half times that size.
We both were inspecting the package by kneeling down next to his pelvis. Kishanchanji gloated as Manisha carefully inspected the package and showed it off as her prized possession.
“Lay down,” she said, “it is time you got to know the object that gives immense pleasure to your wife.”
Her verbal humiliation was not something I anticipated but knew that before embarking the ship. I mustered courage and lay down next to her.
“First thing,” she said, and whispered into my ear, “don’t balk at anything. He needs to know it is okay for him to inseminate your wife.”
She whispered this ever so lightly that I thought even I had trouble understanding what she said.
“Ignore the grey hair,” she said, “this is common for men his age,” she continued with her monologue.
“Kishanchanji,” she said, looking at him, “I hope you don’t mind that Vinit gets to see yours while his is hidden.”
“Something’s are better that way,” he retorted, referring to the hidden nature of my apparatus.
She ignored his condescending remark.
“Let him know,” he said rubbing salt, again, “that this is what you would have desired on your wedding night!”
She turned her attention to me and said, “The first thing you should notice is his odor.”
“Come closer,” she whispered. She was very close to me and I had the urge to kiss her. Manisha had truly become a slutwife that we both enjoyed reading about in those perverted stories. She pulled back and said, “Ah ha..”
“No kissing,” she quipped, looking at Kishanchanji, who had a smug smile, “until I initiate.”
And then she inhaled the musky aroma eagerly. She urged me to do the same but I didn’t have any fascination for it. The act of going near his penis was already an act of perversion.
“Oh come on,” she seethed, and pushed my head towards her. The stench hit me. It was clear that his penis hadn’t been washed much that day and the rest of the pungent odor came from the sweat from his undersides. She inhaled it excitedly and said, “this is how a real bull’s smells.”
She flicked her tongue on the tip and tried pleasuring the pee hole with her expert tongue strokes.
“The hyper clean ones are insecure,” she remarked.
“Kishanchanji,” she asked, “Do you mind if Vinit touches your testicles?”
“Not at all,” he answered, “they need a little massaging anyway.”
I frowned at her obscene remark. What was she thinking? She whispered inaudibly, “Do it, he doesn’t like disrespected.”
She guided my hand, despite my resistance, to his testicles. Despite my hand making contact with his testicles I took a lot of encouragement from her to do anything beyond making a contact. I gently rubbed his testicles while she showered small kisses. It wasn’t overtly sexual; we were simply playing.
Kishanchanji moaned because of our ministrations and quipped, “That feels good; it would help in generating lot of semen.”
“Your wife loves it when I pump it all inside her,” he added crudely.
“Is it a good time Manisha?” he asked.
His words sent a chill down my spine. Manisha had already prepped me up for such an eventuality but I didn’t expect her to be so open that Kishanchanji could openly talk about it in front of me. Most other stories I had read about also had subtlety in them but Manisha seemed to have adopted a direct strategy.
“It is always a good time,” she answered.
“You know what I mean,” he said.
“Absolutely.”
“And even Vinit knows but we haven’t discussed this explicitly,” she responded.
“What?”
“Isn’t that the reason why you are massaging his testicles?”
“Kishanchanji, I really want him to guide you inside me.”
“It’s an intimate and important experience for me!”
“Vinit,” he said, “Manisha is pretty serious about being my wife.”
“She wants to raise my children!”
“You should know,” he said, “you would be the father!”
“Tell him,” she pushed me but I was unclear about what she wanted me to say. Manisha must have left subtle cues; I wondered and searched for them.
“We have agonized over this several times already,” I quipped. Manisha smiled hearing that. She urged me to spill it all over.
“To tell you the truth Kishanchanji,” I continued, “Manisha has confessed several times that she wished that you had taken her virginity.”
Kishanchanji laughed hearing my admission.
“Most young women do that,” he said confidently, “they rebuff and then fall for it.”
“To make for the lost opportunity she gave her anal virginity to me on our anniversary night.”
“Was that sweet!”
“That was no fun Kishanchanji,” she said mockingly.
“And where is the need when I am so tight for you.”
“Very true!”
“She is indeed very tight for a mother of one.”
“Imagine what it could have on the very first night?”
“In retrospect,” she answered, “Kishanchanji, I may have been very privileged but honestly at that time it could have been only termed as Molestation.”
“But I must admit Kishanchanji,” she added, “if only you had pushed your luck during the second year of our marriage, you would have a found a willing wife.”
“I was sick of wives who went behind their husband’s back to meet me.”
“It was perhaps time to find one whose husband actually encouraged her to mate with me.”
“Haven’t you hit a jackpot on this?”
“Vinit deserves full credit for this,” added Kishanchanji.
“Not many young men realize that a beautiful young wife is both an asset and a liability.”
“Vinit,” said Kishanchanji, “the unfortunate truth is that for marriage such immature, young girls gravitate to dainty young and inexperienced men.”
“And soon realize that what distinguishes men in the bedroom is entirely different.”
“Kishanchanji you are mocking me now.”
“I don’t believe I have made a poor choice in choosing a husband. He is simply too perfect for me,” she said giving me a peck on my lips.
“While it is true,” she said, cupping my penis, lewdly in front of him, “that he is not quite there in terms of size, I wouldn’t write him off.”
“There are plenty of other things that go in his favor,” she added proudly.
“There is no disadvantage that I see,” she added, “am I not getting best of both the worlds.”
“Perhaps you are fortunate in having such a considerate husband,” he retorted.
“Kishanchanji, women are always fortunate – there is no reason why I can’t keep Amirchanji happy along with you two – but the same can’t be said about you two.””That son-of-a-bitch Amirchanji is not getting a chance to sniff your pussy.”
“Not until, you are already pregnant.”
“Besides, I heard he loves pregnant women and especially women who lactate during their pregnancy itself.”
“And you would make sure that I continue to lactate throughout my pregnancy.”
“Absolutely!”
“Kishanchanji has a fascination for breast milk,” she added.
“Now Kishanchanji,” she said, “for the first thing you wanted.”
Kishanchanji got up while Manisha laid down on the bed. He straddled her chest and scooted forward to offer his penis.
“You know what to do,” she said to me, spreading her legs. She gathered yet another pillow to prop her head up. I knew what was about to happen but I didn’t believe that either of them had a desire for this.
Manisha was lubricating profusely already as I pushed my tongue into her twat. Kishanchanji lifted himself and pushed his penis into her mouth. She licked his knob; I guessed mostly but didn’t expect her to do much else in that position. She was reacting to my actions as her pelvis started humping against my mouth. And finally, I found Kishanchanji lift his fat bum to thrust into her mouth. They were slow and delicate strokes but it was clear that Manisha was able to handle it much better than I thought. It was working; she grabbed my hair and shoved her pelvis against my mouth, practically grinding her pussy against my lips.
Every ten or fifteen seconds, I would hear her gasping for breath and then again Kishanchanji would plough her mouth. Her other reactions very much confirmed that she was intensely aroused. Her pussy was gushing with lubricating juices and it seemed that she could accommodate my entire hand in her pussy at that time. The whole episode may not have lasted more than five minutes but it was intense. And finally Manisha gave up and refused to continue it.
Kishanchanji lifted himself and went to the bathroom to clean himself up while Manisha lay there gasping for air. She sneaked a peek at me and smiled using the bedsheet to wipe her face. She beckoned whilst propped up on her elbows and urged me to kiss her. She was hungry for my kiss and forcefully kissed me. In no time, she pushed me on my back and kissed me aggressively, pushing her hand into my pajamas and stroking my erect pecker. She was completely into it and showed no inhibitions as she aggressively pumped my penis within the confines of my pajama.
It was an awkward sight as she kissed me aggressively and furiously stroked my penis. I was on the back in the same position she was a little while ago.
Kishanchanji returned back from the restroom and moved behind her and played with her tits. She was completely engrossed in the act and then Kishanchanji did the dastardly act by pushing his floppy penis between our lips. My eyes were shut so I didn’t immediately realize but found that Manisha was eagerly lapping it up while it was still between our lips. It may have been there only a few moments but it dented my ego significantly. Manisha showed no qualms as she continued sucking on his penis but now it was a few inches away from my mouth. She guided my hand to his testicles again and urged me to do what she had suggested earlier as well. His penis swelled to its original size in no time and I found her slobbering all over it, most of which landed on my mouth. She then leaned down and kissed me again, leaving his penis for a moment. My penis was having a tough time holding back, so I held her hand and urged her to stop before I could sputter in my underwear. Kishanchanji again pushed penis between our lips and this time she entertained him. His fat penis rested on my lips as she worshipped it to her hearts content. It was an utterly humiliating experience for me but neither of them showed any signs of excitement from the act itself. In fact, it didn’t even seem as if they were doing it to humiliate me.
Finally, she kissed me once more after pushing him aside and said, “Honey are you ready to guide him in?”
I sat up and looked at them cursorily, trying to evade eye contact with Kishanchanji. She laid back in my earlier position and held my hand dearly looking at me. Kishanchanji was on the other side; she stroked his penis delicately but her eyes were set on me. She then pulled down my pajamas with a little bit of effort and exposed my uncut penis for the first time in front of Kishanchanji. For once, both literally and figuratively I felt naked in front of me. She lovingly stroked my cock as she did for him. Her eyes were fixated on mine; perhaps she wanted to see if I was ready for the ordeal to ensue. She pulled back my foreskin to expose my penis in all its glory and rubbed the head with her thumb. She had a knack of doing this without causing too much of discomfort.
“Aren’t they very different?” she quipped.
“Of course,” goaded Kishanchanji.
“That one belongs to a young boy, while this belongs a man.”
“Your’s is so dark Kishanchanji,” she said, looking at him.
“Not to worry – it releases only white seed,” he said, giggling. Manisha smiled and looked at me once again.
“Honey,” she said, slowly stroking my penis, “Kishanchanji has been dreaming of knocking your wife for a while now.”
She pulled both of us towards her mouth and then our penises were touching each others as Manisha’s tongue titillated her.
“Quite a specimen, isn’t it?” She asked rubbing the knob my head against. She was obviously referring to his and not mine. I also noticed my knob was perhaps half as wide as his and looking at the middle portion of his penis, it was more than twice as thick as mine.
“Wouldn’t you have preferred this on your wedding night?”
I noticed Manisha blush. If this was role-play then she hadn’t rehearsed it well; her response was genuine.
“You know the answer Kishanchanji,” she responded playfully.
“Which is?”
“It only could have been termed as Molestation,” she retorted.
“You mean to say you would not have liked it.”
“Hmm…”
“I am saying I would not have wanted it.”
“So, you would have liked it,” he asked.
“Loved it,” she responded teasingly.
“What about you Vinit?”
“Would have really wanted to see your wife make out with me on the wedding night?”
“What….” my voice trailed as I realized that I had to control my temper.
Manisha was now stroking my penis; perhaps encouraging me to be truthful. Kishanchanji’s face was only a few inches away from mine and we were quite uncomfortably close to each other.
“The thought did occur to me,” I added grudgingly.
“And?”
I didn’t respond.
“It must be difficult for her to accommodate someone my size,” he added with a smirk on his face.
“Come on, Kishanchanji,” she responded, “you are not a porn hero besides I am not a petite woman.”
“It could have been quite a different story though if you were to take Vinit’s place on our wedding night.”
“We could have been practically inseparable for a year or so.”
“Honey,” she said looking at me with sultry eyes, “why don’t you prepare me while I prepare Kishanchanji for the grand finale.”
Kishanchanji closed his eyes as Manisha started pleasuring him and I moved to my position between her legs, she too responded soon after. It was a very short episode as Kishanchanji quickly moved to his position between her legs. He had propped up her butt with the help of pillow to allow for maximum friction with his strokes and lined up his penis at the entrance. I had moved to her side in my original position looking at the spectacle that was about to start.
“Ah, honey,” she said, pulling me with my pecker.
“You ought to help Kishanchanji. This is no ordinary reason why he is mounting your wife.”
As I leaned forward reluctantly and held his penis between my thumb and index finger to guide it to the honey pot. She moved her hand from my pecker to my anus and probed it gently.
“Stroke it a little honey,” she quipped, “given his age he needs a little bit of stimulation.”
She increased the pressure as I tried hesitantly to provide him some stimulation.
“Come on Vinit,” smirked Kishanchanji.
“You can do better than that,” he said and forced my hand to grasp his pecker in my hand fully.
“Don’t worry – I won’t get any wrong ideas,” he assured. In about a minute his pecker firmed up significantly and Manisha breached my sphincter muscles.
Finally, I lined up his penis against her opening but Kishanchanji was in no mood to push ahead yet. He waited there.
“Don’t just wait there Vinit,” he gently urged, “your wife needs to be ready as well.”
“Rub it around the opening – women love that feeling.”
I had already sensed that Manisha was lubricating quite heavily and there was absolutely no need for that titillation but I did as requested and heard the familiar sounds from Manisha again. Within a few moments I found Manisha lifting her bum to bridge the gap and trying to pull Kishanchanji in.
“Say it,” said Kishanchanji as he teased her, pulling back in response to her urges.
“Come on Kishanchanji,” she pleaded, her words shaky and her breath labored.
“Don’t waste any time – make me yours – knock me up.”
“You still haven’t said it,” he mockingly said.
She tentatively looked at me and I looked at her.
“Don’t make me do that,” she pleaded.
“You have to admit it,” he said pushing her. She hesitated and looked at me again. He wasn’t yielding and she was petrified to say what he wanted to hear from her. I knew he wanted her to plead to inseminate her but that she had already done.
She finally nodded and bit her lip. Finally, Kishanchanji pushed ever so lightly until the very tip of his penis went into the folds of her pussy. She tugged onto my penis and called me to come near her. Although my attention was riveted to the main spectacle but Manisha eyes conveyed me that she needed me. As I trundled back to her she pulled me to her and I knew that she wanted me to lie next to her.
“Hold me honey,” she said, as I lay down next to her.
“We are going to make a baby.” She groaned as Kishanchanji thrust into her with mighty stroke. She started kissing me tenderly and within a few moments the magic was working.
“I am so proud of you,” she said, “for letting Kishanchanji impregnate your wife.” Her breathing was labored already.
“I wish you had done this early,” she said, looking into my eyes. It was a question not a remark.
“How early?” I asked.
“I wish Tushar was Kishanchanji’s son,” she said between her labored breathing and grunts. She had entered a trance like state that usually lasted a few fleeting moments during our session but here it just seemed that this was only the beginning. She once again moved her hand to my flaccid penis that lost erection. Her mouth was open and she was in a delirious state where all her attention was focused on the feelings emanating from her pussy.
“Wish you had let him take me on our wedding night,” she added as she went down the rabbit hole. Now it was not a matter of titillation; it was an expression of her thoughts as they came. She was incapable of interfering due to the semi orgasmic state that she had entered.
Kishanchanji gathered tempo and now her grunts became louder and were perfectly synchronized with his strokes.
“Fuck me honey,” she urged me, “Make me pregnant.” She had made a sheath of her hand and urged me to screw her. This was affecting my ability to procrastinate my ejaculation and I tacitly conveyed this to by pushing her hand away but she didn’t relent and urged me to continue whilst kissing me. A few moments later I tried that again and yet again she didn’t relent. By now she was feverishly enjoying the session. Her lips were glued to mine and she was intensely kissing me.
Kishanchanji had been ploughing her for well over ten minutes now and she had perhaps touched her orgasm already but it just didn’t seem that Kishanchanji was anywhere near his orgasm. Again, it just didn’t seem his lack of ideal physique had anything to do with his performance in bed.
Manisha was tiring off and urged to change positions.
“Take me from back, Kishanchanji,” she exhaled, getting from her position.
“Let me taste it first,” she said, as Kishanchanji stood up on the bed. She pulled him with her hands on his butt and sucked in his large penis that was dripping with their juices. She moved her hand to my pecker as I sat right next to her watching her bob her head on his penis trying to in vain to stuff that penis as thick as a baseball bat into her mouth. I played with her breasts staring at her lips that were muscling their way onto his penis that engorged with blood due to all the pumping.
She patted on his bum indicating that she was ready and let go of his penis and then in a sudden move turned to me and kissed me. It was wet and sloppy; she made me taste their combined juices without any inhibition. Kishanchanji asked her to get on all the fours.
“Oh no, Kishanchanji,” she said.
“I want my husband to know,” she said, “why it is you who is impregnating his wife and not him.”
“Apart from the duration you can last,” she added, “there is yet another thing that you excel at.”
She adjusted the pillow and quickly lay astride it with her pelvis on top of it.
“I see,” Kishanchanji understood.
“Check it out honey,” she said, “he not only can put it inside in this position but also make me cum in no time.”
“Vinit’s slips out quite easily,” she remarked to him.
And to my utter dismay the next ten minutes Kishanchanji fucked her for what seemed like a fuckathon. Manisha was completely crushed under his weight; despite his height, he outweighed Manisha by about 30 pounds. She screamed in ecstasy as each stroke of Kishanchanji launched her into uncharted territory with his penis quite certainly knocking on her cervix. And finally, she held onto his thigh as he ejaculated inside her with groaning loudly. Kishanchanji was lost in bliss but Manisha gave me a smile as she received his seed.
Kishanchanji collapsed on top of her. His whole body floppily resting on Manisha. It just seemed as if a slender Arabian horse was forced to be bred by a pony. As I had mentioned he was much overweight and despite Manisha’s voluptuous frame he dwarfed her in girth but lengthwise Manisha was much taller. She patiently waited under him; in fact she urged him not to move. Eventually Kishanchanji rolled off; having ensured that sufficient of his semen made it home.
She requested me to find her pantie and then wearing it to protect the bedsheet from spots; she proceeded to clean his slimy penis of all the remnants. Kishanchanji didn’t quite care for it but was glad that she did it without him requesting.
“Now go have fun with your husband,” he said.
“Not here,” he remarked, “and don’t make any noise.”
She quickly turned off the light and held my hand and took me to our abode. Kishanchanji turned to the other side. Without saying anything in the dark, she found my lips with her hand and planted her lips on mine. Her tongue snaked into my mouth and transferred the slimy substance into my mouth without hesitation. She held to me lovingly while kissing me in a languid manner, making sure that I got a real taste for their juices.
She took about a minute or so and then whispered into my ear, “I am more than done for today.”
“But, I want you to eat me,” she added.
“Lap it up every single drop,” she added in her teasing voice.
“Show me that you are glad a real stud has fucked your wife!”
She motioned me to climb the bed and after I was settled in my position. She climbed after me and without any further talk, she straddled my face and with a minor adjustment she lowered her pelvis right on top of me and then she smudged her pantie covered pussy on my mouth. The slimy substance had permeated through her pantie and by now the strong pungent odor didn’t unnerve me. I parted my lips and she slid aside the gusset of her pantie to let it all drop into my mouth. It was thick and sticky and didn’t easily drool into my mouth.
Manisha pulled out my pecker that was losing its erection and stroked it to perfection – within the next couple of minutes I ejaculated in her hand. She made sure that I did it all inside my underwear. It was a mess but I was glad that my pending frustration had been relieved.
Manisha finally lay aside me and lovingly whispered, “I love you.”
“He must be extremely pleased with you,” she continued.
“If only you had invited him to our bedroom on our wedding night, you wouldn’t have to suffer from the humiliation he would throw at you.”
“Is that the reason?” I blurted.
“Ssh…” she hushed me.
“Yes.”
“He had been staking his alpha male claim,” she answered, “but I wasn’t quite ready back then.”
“Now he knows that you won’t challenge him ever,” she said, “on this front.”
“Are you happy though?” she asked.
“We pushed you a lot more than usual,” she added in concerned tone.
“Don’t worry,” she assured, “this is a secret between us three.”
“Is this only for the three years?” I asked.
She didn’t answer; her hand gently massaged my chest, particularly focusing on my nipples.
“What would you like?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I answered.
“You have something on your mind.”
“No.”
“Think,” she said pushing me.
“Are you going back to the vanilla lifestyle again?”
I didn’t answer. But I thought, the answer was clear to both of us.
“What is on your mind?” I asked after a few moments of painful silence.
She shook her head, “nothing.”
“You have planned this all over – you have master plan already.”
She smiled.
“Physically I want to belong to Kishanchanji,” she said, “but emotionally I don’t want to be distanced from you.”
“Kishanchanji wants me both physically and emotionally.”
“And then Amirchanji desires me physically as well.”
“All of this is not possible unless you accept a lesser role in our married life,” she added after a brief pause.
“You don’t want to have sex with me,” I uttered in a dejected tone.
“Quite the contrary,” she said, “I would like to have sex with you every night.”
“It just that on certain nights I may be too tired to allow for penetrative sex,” she said, “like today.”
“And I want to sleep in your arms every night!”
“And Kishanchanji would be putting buns in your oven?”
She giggled.
“He is trying hard,” she whispered, “but there is no chance.”
“What?”
I was stunned by her admission.
“You are on pills?”
“Yes,” she seethed.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“He doesn’t know – this is a secret between us.”
“You didn’t want to get pregnant from him?” I said elated.
“I didnt’ say that.”
“Then?”
“It is complicated,” she said.
“Why don’t you sleep on it and we talk when get back,” she said and slept in my arms. She headed back in the wee hours in the morning to her other (primary) husband and to my dismay I found her encouraging him for a fuck session again. Kishanchanji wasn’t very eager but finally did let her have her way. This time she rode him in cowgirl position and there for the last few minutes Kishanchanji fucked her again. She saw me watching them quietly and after finishing her last act, which was cleaning up his penis, she returned back to me. Once again, she nonchalantly planted her lips on mine and expected me to part my lips and welcome her tongue. Kishanchanji wasn’t paying any attention to us was quite possibly already dozing off.
She ensured my face was smudged with their juices once more and then whispered, “there is more of it down there.”
“And guess what,” she added, “after you are done, you can screw your wife.”
And then there was a repeat of what happened earlier with much pleasant ending for me. It took me a little longer this time around due to my earlier ejaculation and her dilated pussy.