Adultery Indian Wife and the Nukkad Guys by shiprat

[Ramesh_Rocky]

I really hoped I wouldn't run into Sarita again. Over the last few months, her perpetual presence outside had gone from endearing to infuriating. Luckily, she wasn't there. I stepped out the door and locked it, placed the key under a flower pot, and then took a few long strides to the gate. I was dressed in a loose t-shirt and track-pants, intending to run on trails in the countryside along our neighborhood.


I held my phone tightly in my hands and started walking. I knew that when I passed the nukkad guys, they would have something or the other to say about me. They had become quite a nuisance by themselves since that first time I walked past them six months ago. They had also become, in my own mind, a source of some quasi-sadistic entertainment, I was a little too sure of my position in the society of that little town. I was the wife of the guy who was the manager of the biggest bank setting up a a branch in the town. What he was doing was crucial to the economic future of the town. Which I thought indicated that my well-being was crucial to the economic future of the town.

I convinced myself that as long as I dressed demurely enough, they would not dare cross the line. And I was dressed as demurely as possible, in a loose long t-shirt and track pants. Yes, I was going running by myself, something no "decent" women in the town ever did. But still, I had worn enough signals to indicate that the guys should leave me alone. I was not wearing a cleavage-exposing tank top and thigh-revealing shorts like I would in Bombay. I was dressed in a garb that would cover most of my skin.

As I walked up the street, occasionally stretching my thigh muscles and my shin muscles, I soon approached the "nukkad" where the guys usually stood. I was a bit relieved to see that there weren't as many men there as usual. Usually, there would be 10 or so guys lounging around the tea stall. As I made my way up the street, I saw only 4 guys. Relieved, I exhaled loudly, thinking I had caught a big break. I slowly strolled towards them.

As I passed the tea stall, I could see that the thugs were a bit confused by my garb. For a change, there were no cat calls. At least not right away. I walked past them basking in the pleasant but unfamiliar glow of their confused looks. They were confused because I was so fully covered up.

And they were also confused because in recent months, I had not been so fully covered up. And this is where, dear reader, I must confess my partial culpability in what followed next. Here's the story.

That first time I told you about, when I walked past them dressed in what I considered a simple and decent outfit - capri pants and a t-shirt, they heckled me. I was pissed off but also a little flattered. I had been dressed in a garb that in Bombay would have elicited no responses. Sure, my shins and calves were showing and the t-shirt I was wearing was tight. But so what? It was nothing extraordinary in Bombay where occasional street louts were used to seeing women running past in way skimpier clothing. And yet here, in the cow belt, I was catcalled as if I were dressed like a whore.

That, honestly, intrigued me a little bit. In normal circumstances, I would not have given it a second thought. I would have been too busy thinking about work stuff. But in that small town, relegated to just looking after my husband, I had no work stuff to deal with, In previous years, there was always a deadline hanging over my head. Not this time. Not yet. My boss had promised to send me some stuff to work on but it had not come in yet. I tried to keep myself busy with cooking and cleaning, but those chores got done really fast. So I was literally a bored housewife trying to find ways to spend time.

Although the catcalls from that first experience had disturbed the demure self-respecting side of my personality, they had also stoked the attention-seeking side of my personality. Since my teens, I was used to being showered with attention by males. I knew I was good looking, had a nice face and a great figure, and almost expected to be propositioned. Since my marriage to Vinay however, things had changed significantly. The guys at work knew I was now married so most of them did not try to go after me. Even on the streets, maybe I exuded a sense of my married identity - maybe it was the mangalsutra I usually wore. But even the occasional catcalls and propositions in Bombay had gotten rare.

So the nukkad guys taking such interest in me fed the attention-starved side of me. It also made me feel kinda powerful. Finally, after a short break, I again had the power to make a group of guys act like cavemen. They were expressing their desire for me in the most primal way possible. I was disgusted because of who I was (a married woman) and who they were (a bunch of savages), but I was also flattered by the attention.

After that first experience, I was a little spooked. But then, as a couple of weeks rolled by, I started thinking about that experience. How they had all stared at me and made me the center of their existence. It was a bit exhilarating, thinking about all those young virile men desiring me. A part of me was disgusted by their lewd behavior. But a part of me was also intrigued. My sentiments were motivated by the fact that things between me and Vinay were tepid in the bedroom. He was so busy with his new assignment of setting up and running the new branch that he mostly worked 14 hours a day. And I, living in that tiny podunk town, had nothing much to do. I would spend the day hoping he would come home and fuck me hard, but most days, he would come home exhausted and go to bed,

Maybe that's why, a couple of weeks after we moved in, I found myself dressed in a figure-hugging t-shirt and a pleated knee-length skirt. The best part of the skirt was that it hugged my ass really snugly, accentuating it for anyone watching. And the nukkad guys were definitely watching. When I walked past them, they whistled like crazy. I felt a little belittled, but mostly, I felt delighted by the attention. Although my husband didn't get aroused himself most nights to bang me, these young guys found me attractive, It fed my ego.

I walked past them, clad in my tight t-shirt and my knee length skirt. There were about 9 of them that day. They stared at my chest and and my half-bare legs alternating. It felt nice, I will be honest. All these virile horny men gawking at my shins. It felt oddly empowering. Eventually one of them started singing,

"Tu cheez badi hai mast mast...."
(You look like an intoxicated object(

I heard the song. I frowned, trying to suppress a smile. I walked past them. A few dozen steps later, I noticed that a couple of them were walking behind me. That creeped me out. What the fuck, I thought. I knew they would call out to me. But this thing of following me? That was weird. I went to the grocery store. The owner and his helper stared at my knees while they filled out my order. I walked back home. The couple of nukkad guys followed me home, keeping a safe distance.

I stepped inside my house and exhaled loudly. I could not believe that a modest skirt had excited these cow belt yokels enough to stalk me all the way home. They had not dared cross any lines or force themselves on me. But they had made their desire very clear.

For the next few months, I would occasionally indulge in this exercise. I'd wear something moderately revealing and walk to the grocery store. The nukkad guys would tease or heckle me shamelessly. And I would walk back. Occasionally, a couple of them followed me home. But they didn't cross any lines. At least not then.

At least not until that day when, dressed in a loose t-shirt and track pants, I went running.