Adultery Old Man and Indian Wife by shiprat

[Ramesh_Rocky]

After my MBA I got a job in a prestigious bank. The guy I was sleeping with at that time was getting annoyingly serious about or relationship. He was good in the sack, but I found him too shallow to really make a life with. So I ended it and prepared for a career in banking.

When I walked into the conference room for inductee training, most of my fellow newbies were already there. I scanned the room and noticed a handsome older man, maybe 40 or so, staring at me. His gaze was obviously on my bosom, which had now grown to 34DD and even formalwear couldn't hide. I looked into his eyes and smiled. He smiled back sheepishly and then looked away. He spoke to us later about his division. His name was Pavan, and I heard later that he was one of the hot-shot fast track executives in the bank. Youngest Vice President in the bank's short history. And, I later learned, single!

Pavan was everything I would want in a guy - he was older, with some gray hair beginning to appear at the edge of his temples. He was tall and handsome, very fit for his age. And he had a charming personality. After training, when we were offered a choice, I opted for Pavan's division. I was really looking forward to getting to know him. And I saw it as a great opportunity to live out my fucked-by-the-boss fantasies.

I had heard of Pavan's reputation as a bit of a playboy, so was expecting him to hit on me soon enough. But he kept it strictly professional. Even more annoying was the fact that almost every other single guy in the division seemed to be hitting on me, and I had to spend a lot of time fending off their advances politely. After a few days, I decided to send stronger signals.

During our conversations, I would drop a compliment about how yummy he looked. If he returned the compliment, I would blush a little too much. I asked him about things outside of work. I was glad to know that his taste in books and movies was refined, and there was a lot for us to talk about. I even gave him a lot of the textbook signals - adjusting my hair, making eye-contact, touching him gently on the arm, and so on. When there was no response from his end, I wondered if he simply was not that into me.

And then finally, he asked me out. Things moved rapidly after that. Pavan certainly was quite the charmer. And he was quite good in bed. His dick was decent sized, in fact slightly bigger than most other guys I had been with. But more importantly, he knew how to use it. Sex with him was heavenly. And I started feeling truly satisfied in bed, for the first time in my life. Even other than sex, things were going great. When he proposed, I had no hesitation in saying yes. And we got married.

A few months later I was pregnant. I was really excited about having a baby. I had opted for higher studies mainly to keep my parents happy. But somewhere down the line, I had realized that what really interested me was not boardroom battles or promotions, but being a mother. I had spoken to Pavan about this very often, and he had no problems when i decided to quit my job and stay at home to raise our son Chintu full time.

Chintu's birth and my decision to quit my job were watershed moments in more ways than one. Having spent most of my waking hours studying or working until then, I found the luxury of the free time liberating as well as disconcerting. Until Chintu turned one, I had little free time of course. Taking care of him was a full time job. But as time went by, I found myself wondering about what to do with my free time. Pavan had started working longer hours, so I turned to my friends from engineering college and MBA days.

Most of my friends were male. For some reason, other than my sister, I found it difficult to get along with other women. And guys were very comfortable making friends with me too. The reason, one of my friends theorized, was that since I was so pretty, tall and intelligent, most guys assumed I was out of their league. Once the possibility of romance or sex was out of the way, guys found it easier to treat me like "one of the guys". Besides, my interests in sports, action movies, and cars gelled well with the guys. So I had always been "one of the guys" for them. And since I was more interested in older men than my contemporaries, I also found it easier to view them platonically.

Initially, Pavan was okay with most of my close friends being guys. But as time went by, it started to rankle him. he started making sarcastic comments about some of my closest friendships with guys. Occasionally there was a hint of an accusation. he first few times this happened, i just ignored it, putting it down to stress from work. But then as Pavan's complaints about my friends grew, I started wondering what the exact problem was.

I wondered if it had something to do with our sex life. Pavan was 40 when we got married, so with each passing year, his age was catching up with him. he still worked out and kept fit, but I noticed that the frequency with which we had sex started diminishing. I wondered if it had to do with me. I wasn't as svelte and slim as I was before marriage. But I still had maintained a flat stomach, and the extra weight I had put on after getting pregnant was spread out. I went from a 26 waist to a 28 waist, and a round but perky 34 butt to a round and voluptuous 38 butt. I was sure I still looked good enough. So I was reasonably confident that my looks had nothing to do with our sex frequency dropping down to once or twice a week.

The frequency of the arguments over my male friends however, kept growing. And it truly baffled me, because if I had been attracted to any of them, I would've slept with them long before Pavan even came into my life. Most of my friends were married, and I was friendly with their wives as well. If the wives didn't feel threatened by my friendship with their husbands, why did my husband?

--

A few years passed by and I had come to accept Pavan's grumbles about my friends as a part of life. My conscience was clean. I had never even come close to cheating on him, so as far as I was concerned, it was just paranoia brought on by the insecurity of his declining sexual prowess. Occasionally, I considered suggesting that he see a doctor about erectile dysfunction. But I knew how touchy Pavan was about that. Whenever he was unable to get it up, he would get very defensive and surly, sometimes blaming me for "coming on too strong". So the sex in our marriage wasn't great, but with a precocious little boy to attend to, it stopped being a concern. I had more or less settled into the life of a regular housewife.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

One day Pavan came home and announced he had just interviewed for a position with a global bank on Wall Street, and if he go the job, we'd be moving to New York. I was peeved, at the fact that he had not consulted me before the interview. I could understand his desire to pursue this opportunity, but we were a family, and I insisted that such decisions should be taken together. He didn't take my concerns very well. He refused to even have a conversation about it. I tried explaining that I didn't mind the move, but considering that Chintu and I both had friends and connections in Bombay, he should have at least talked to me about it. Pavan just muttered something about how I cared about being close to my "friends" than his career and ended the topic there.

A couple of days later, we learned that Pavan had gotten the job. I saw no point in holding him back, so I agreed to the move. And off we flew to New York, leaving our friends and family behind. The move was exactly as I had expected. It was fun living in the New York area....New Jersey to be precise... but the fun was offset by loneliness. I tried mingling with a few of the Indian wives in the neighborhood, but they were a little too homely and conservative for my tastes.

I was relieved about one thing though. Although I had no friends around, at least Pavan's insecure rants about my male friends stopped. We settled into a fairly cosy existence in the new Jersey suburbs. Chintu's sulking about being taken away from his friends in Bombay didn't last very long either. He soon made friends in college and in the neighborhood, especially a boy his age who lived next door. The boy's father, Jeff, was a nice guy and I soon became friendly with him.

Jeff was divorced and had custody of his son. To get he flexibility of raising a son as a single dad, Jeff had quit his job and ran a catering business from his house. Jeff reminded me a lot of my guy friends back in India - friendly, energetic, talkative, helpful, and a great conversationalist. He was also extremely social, and would drop by all the time asking me to taste some dish or the other that he had concocted. He would also ask me for tips on Indian cooking. Besides, we shared a lot of the same likes in books and music. So it was common for Jeff and his son to come over, or me and Chintu to go over to his place. The boys would play and Jeff and I would talk or experiment with cooking.

Sure enough, Pavan's jealous side returned with a vengeance. He started getting antsy about Jeff and me hanging out so much. I tried to explain to Pavan that a) jeff had never even remotely tried to make a pass at me, and b) even if he had, i was simply NOT attracted to him. But such reasonable arguments never found favor with Pavan, who started sulking more and more. Pavan's performance in bed had declined even further.

So I decided to spice things up a little. Ever since Chintu was born, my wardrobe had turned into that of a homely housewife. Living in Bombay in a fairly conservative neighborhood further played its part. But now I was in the US! So I decided to give myself a makeover. I got my hair styled, and bought a lot of new skimpy and revealing clothes - shorts, hot pants, skirts, tank tops and revealing blouses. I started dressing in these revealing clothes in an attempt to revive Pavan's interest in sex.

It did work. To an extent. Pavan noticed the change in my wardrobe and made some favorable comments, It did lead to a brief spike in our bedroom action. But Pavan still seemed bothered by Jeff. Once he said jokingly that he wondered if I had started wearing revealing clothes to entice Jeff. I was taken aback, but Pavan laughed it off saying it was a joke. I could however detect a grain of insecurity in what he said. And it pissed me off. Here I had gone to such great lengths to rekindle my husband's interest in me. And he suspected it was all for Jeff?

Once when I was waiting in the supermarket line, my eyes fell on a women's magazine near the counter. It had a blurb that said - "What Might Be behind Your Husband's Jealousy?". My interest was piqued and I bought the magazine. The article said that if your husband is being excessively jealous and insecure, it might be the result of him hiding his true desires to see you with another man. Many men have latent cuckolding desires, the article said, that they cannot come to terms with. Sot hey spend a lot of their time fantasizing about their wives sleeping with other men, and it comes out as jealousy. I was taken aback at what the article suggested. Is that what Pavan really fantasized about?

I remembered that in our early days of dating, Pavan had quizzed me in great detail about my past lovers. And I had told him about them all, except for the Nigel episode which I had thought too embarrassing to share. Whenever I told Pavan details about my time in bed with other men, he got very aroused and we would have sex right away. But his inquiries about my past had stopped long back. Was he really a closeted cuckold, I wondered. Nah, couldn't be, I decided and threw the magazine away.

The reason for Pavan's jealousy, I told myself, was his insecurity about his non-performance in bed. Over the next few weeks, I tried my best to kick things up in bed. I would initiate sex with a heavy make-out session, suck his dick, and talk dirty. But it worked only occasionally. Most of the times, Pavan's dick refused to respond and he'd sulk away to sleep. I also began noticing that the day after a non-performance episode he would bring up the Jeff topic and we'd start arguing over it. I decided to finally bite the bullet and suggest that he see a doctor.

Things really came to a boil one incredibly hot day. Jeff came over with his son and a big ice box. He said he had some premium German beer leftover from a catering job, so how about we sit in the yard, let the kids play and cool ourselves down with some beer? Chintu was already jumping around with his friend, so I decided why not. I changed into a short skirt and a tank top and joined Jeff on a lawn chair. A while later, Jeff asked if he could take off his t-shirt. I said sure. And he sat there in just his cut-offs, sweat glistening on his chest. A few women who passed by gave Jeff approving looks, something I teased him about, and he blushed. Jeff did have a well chiseled torso and it always drew a lot of admiring glances. Personally, I didn't feel turned on by it. I liked my men older, and hairier.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

So we sat there, drinking beer and talking about all sorts of things as our kids played in the lawn. An hour or so later, Pavan came home. he walked on to the lawn just as Jeff and I were laughing about something. And it became obvious to me at once that the green eyed monster was sitting on Pavan's head. With an angry look on his face, he yelled at Chintu to get inside. Jeff looked taken aback at Pavan's behavior. I had never shared Pavan's jealous accusations with Jeff so this was the first that Jeff had any hint of my husband's dislike of him. He immediately got up, picked up his cooler, said polite goodbyes to me and Pavan and went home with his son.

I was feeling a wee bit tipsy from all the beer, so I wasn't my usual quiet and understanding self. I walked in, really confused and upset at Pavan's rudeness. I fought back an urge to confront Pavan, knowing that Chintu was still around. That whole evening, you could cut the tension in the room with a knife. I was upset at Pavan's boorish behavior. And he clearly was upset about Jeff hanging out with me. But I felt more wronged. Arguing with me in the privacy of our home was one thing. Being so rude to an innocent guy who had done nothing wrong, that too in front of kids, was unacceptable.

After Chintu fell asleep, we went to the bedroom and it started. Pavan fired the first salvo, asking if I enjoyed drooling over Jeff's shirtless body. I responded by saying I felt absolutely no attraction towards Jeff and Pavan was just being paranoid. Pavan responded by saying that I may not be attracted to Jeff, but he obviously was, and I was leading him on. I refuted this premise as well, saying Jeff had been a perfect gentleman and Pavan's fears were baseless. We argued, our voices rising by the second, until I decided to cut to the chase and finally bring up the dreaded topic,

"Pavan, don't take this the wrong way, but don't you see your insecurity is stemming from your.....troubles in bed? I keep telling you to see the doctor. There are drugs..."

"So you're saying I should take Viagra or you'll fuck him? Is that it?" Pavan shot back.

"What?" I said, confused at how he could have twisted my words to mean that.

"Or have you fucked him already?" Pavan said, with a disgustingly contemptuous look on his face.

I had never been as angry and disgusted at my husband as I was at that moment. Rage boiled up in my head, and before I realized what I was doing, I slapped him. It was an instinctive reaction and as soon as I did it, I felt sorry. Pavan now looked really enraged. He grabbed me by my shoulders really hard, and I feared that he would slap me back. He just glared at me for a few seconds and then pushed me away

I felt tears well in my eyes out of fear. It took me a few moments to compose myself. I ran out of the bedroom only to see Pavan slam the door behind him. I went back to the bedroom and started crying. What had I done to deserve such disrespect? I had always been faithful to Pavan. Never entertained even the slightest desire to cheat on him. Given my looks, I had been hit on by all sorts of men, in India as well as in America. But I had always deftly and politely spurned their advances, regardless of if I felt attracted to them. My choice in male friends had also been impeccable. Not a single one of my friends had ever tried to get fresh with me. But Pavan's jealously grew regardless. He seemed to have condemned me without a trial. I felt like Desdemona, except that my Othello was convicting me without an Iago to instigate him. I cried myself to sleep that night.

Things calmed down a little over the next couple of days. I was relieved when Pavan made the first move and apologized about overreacting. He said he had stepped over the line, and should not have blown his top. He did say though that I should be more understanding of his concerns about someone like Jeff. I was an attractive woman and I should be more judicious in how I act with other men. I thought of saying, I had not acted inappropriately at all, and all his fears about Jeff were unfounded. Instead, I decided to make a gesture of peace. I said that if Jeff bothered him so much, I would not spend that much time with him. He seemed satisfied. We hugged, kissed and made love for the first time in two weeks.

Things returned to normal and I was delighted when Pavan announced his surprise for me. he had booked us tickets to visit Las Vegas on the coming long weekend. Just the two of us. And he had already spoken to my sister in Philadelphia about taking care of Chintu while we were gone. I was glad to see Pavan's cheerful side resurface. This is how he used to be - planning surprises and making plans for us to get away.

I was excited about visiting Las Vegas. I wasn't really too interested in gambling, but I had heard that Vegas was the new hot spot for fine dining and great shows. Its line-up of shows rivaled Broadway, and I hoped we would be able to attend a couple of them. I picked out my sexiest short dresses and tops, looking forward to seducing Pavan. I also went to the store and bought a new yellow bikini, hoping we would get to hang out by the pool. I even shaved all the hair down there so I could wear the bikini. I was all packed and ready for a vacation to rekindle the romance in our relationship. I was excited at this opportunity to make a fresh start. Little did I know it would turn out to be a fresh start of a completely different kind.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Trouble started as soon as we landed in Vegas and I turned my phone on. The previous day, I had told Jeff that we were going to Las Vegas.for the long weekend. I also apologized to him for Pavan's behavior and explained that my husband had been getting a bit jealous of our friendship. Jeff was aghast that Pavan viewed him as someone making a play for his wife. Jeff assured me that he had no such intentions, and I said I know. Jeff said he was sorry if he had created trouble between me and Pavan, and I in turn apologized to him again. Jeff then changed the topic to Vegas and recommended a few restaurants he really liked. He said there was this one tiny little known gem of a Mexican restaurant that he had loved. He'd try to remember it and let me know.

As soon as I turned the phone on, it beeped three times. Pavan, who had been in a good mood till then, shot me a dirty look. And then asked me sarcastically if the messages were from Jeff. I read the messages. The first one was from my sister saying Chintu was doing fine. The second was from Jeff, with the name and address of the restaurant we had spoken about. And then another message from Jeff saying - "Have a great time in Vegas. Wishing you and Pavan a safe flight." I replied to the messages with a single word "thanks" and answered Pavan's question.

He made some sarcastic comment about whether Jeff wanted recipe.

"No, Pavan. He just texted the address of a restaurant he recommends. And wished us both safe travel and a great vacation." I replied, hoping this would end the topic.

"You know what'll make my vacation great?" Pavan added acerbically as he got up from his seat, "No texts from Jeff."

"Pavan please. Don't start." I pleaded as I followed him. I had really hoped that the Jeff fight was behind us. And here Pavan seemed hellbent on raking it up again, almost aching for a fight.

As we gathered our luggage and took a taxi to the Venetian, I fought back the urge to say a lot of things. I wanted to ask Pavan to just put a moratorium on the Jeff fights. Just try to have a good time here. But Pavan already had that surly expression on his face which said that I was the one at fault. Well, I was done bending over backwards for him. I stayed silent waiting for him to break the ice. Pavan was lost in thoughts as the taxi drove through town. I started admiring the grand sights of all the big casinos and hotels, and started feeling more chipper.

--- When we reached the Venetian, its impressive appearance was enough to shake even Pavan out of his sulky silence. He said the hotel looked gorgeous. I agreed, and started pointing out various artifacts in the lobby. Pavan nodded in appreciation as he filled out the information at the registration desk. I admired the glitz and glamor of the casino. Pavan seemed more enamored by the gambling area. We walked to the elevator and went to our room.

"Let's get ready and hit the casino floor. I want to try my hand at some blackjack." Pavan said, unpacking his suitcase.

"Sure. I am just going to have a quick shower." I said and went to the bathroom.

I didn't really need a shower. It was just a ruse to seduce Pavan. I knew that he loved it when I was naked under a bathrobe, with wet hair. Walking out like that would be sure to get a rise out of Pavan. And a quick noon fuck would be a great way to start our second honeymoon, as I was now thinking of it.

When I walked out of the bathroom after stepping in the shower for a couple of minutes, I saw that Pavan had changed and was sitting on the bed watching TV. He looked at me and smiled, and then asked me get ready soon so we could go to the casino. Sure, I thought to myself. I'd get ready. But first, some action!

I walked towards Pavan seductively swaying my hips and sat down next to him. He was still watching TV. I put my head on his shoulder and started rubbing the stubble on his cheek. Not even a statue could have resisted me at that moment, and Pavan was after all my husband. he turned his head away from the TV and kissed me passionately, our tongues playing with each other. I moaned in pleasure as he slid one hand into my robe and started fondling my boobs. I started feeling incredibly turned on and wanted to have husband inside me right then and there. I laid down on the bed and pulled Pavan over me.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

He was getting worked up as well. He opened my robe and started kissing my boobs while his fingers played with my clit. Whatever problems Pavan had with his dick, his fingers and tongue were still magical. he could play with my clit better than any man I had been with before, and soon I was moaning and shaking. I was ready to get fucked. I started unbuttoning his shirt with one hand and with the other hand, reached for his crotch. I noted with dismay that there was nothing happening down there. No problem, I thought. A naked blowjob would have him up in no time.

I was about to shift lower to take his dick into my mouth, when Pavan got up and jumped off the bed. I looked at him with a confused expression and was about to ask him to take his clothes off when he brusquely said,

"We should...... go check out the casino."

He buttoned his shirt and almost sprinted to the bathroom, leaving me there, wet and wanting. I was disappointed that the trip hadn't started off with the sexual bang I had wanted. I was convinced that if only Pavan swallowed his pride, went to the doctor and got a prescription, all would be well. But I knew he was touchy about the subject. Oh well, I thought, maybe tonight. I opened my suitcase and picked out a wrap-around skirt that I thought accentuated my butt beautifully. And a top with sequins.

Pavan came out of the bathroom and I could see the sad look on his face. I felt bad for him so before he started apologizing or justifying his dysfunction, I piped up,

"So you'll have to explain to me exactly how blackjack works."

"Oh it's easy.." Pavan started and enthusiastically explained to me everything about blackjack. actually I knew exactly how it worked, having seen a Kevin Spacey movie about blackjack on TV recently. But I figured talking about it would get Pavan's mind off his non-performance.

Pavan was much more enthusiastic about gambling than I was, so he had more fun than me on the casino floor. I was happy just to see him in a good mood for that long, which was rare nowadays. We played blackjack, he won some money and I lost some. Then we walked around the casino, watching poker games and spent some time at the slot machines. We made some money, and Pavan was in a great mood, and so was I. We had dinner at a nice Italian place, called up my sister to talk to Chintu and then just roamed around on the strip.

My ego got a boost with all the admiring glances I received on the strip and I was glad to see the hunger return to Pavan's eyes as well. By the time we returned to the hotel, I was feeling optimistic about another seduction attempt. In fact it seemed like Pavan would make the first move. He had "that" look in his eyes. Sure enough, when we entered the elevator to go up to our room, Pavan pulled me into a hug. He grabbed my ass and started kissing me hard. I felt aroused instantly. This was the strong sexy confident man I had married. I loved it when he made an appearance.

As he started mauling my ass, I kissed Pavan back fervently, with a lot of tongue. Soon I felt his erection push against my thigh and I wondered how it would look if the elevator stopped and someone walked in on us making out so heavily. The thought turned me on, and I said,

"Ooooh Pavan! In the elevator? Naughty!"

"I can't help it. You're just so...." he grabbed my butt hard once more but right then,

*beepbeep*

I froze, fearing the worst, but decided to continue kissing him, hoping he would ignore it. No such luck.

"Check who it's from." he said in that annoying icy tone.

"It can wait." I said and tried to kiss him again. That's when the elevator doors opened.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"I said, check who it is from." Pavan said sounding really upset.

I gave up and took my cellphone out of the purse. I checked the text. It said -

'shipra, UPS came wit urgnt pckg fr Pavan. I signd n took it. Hv fun. -J'

"Is it Jeff?" Pavan asked in an angry voice.

"Yes, but Pavan, he's just..." I started explaining the harmless, even helpful contents of the text message. But before I could complete my sentence, Pavan stormed off.

He strode to the room angrily, turned the TV on and sat on the bed looking ready to explode like that last time.

"He's doing it just to ruin our vacation." Pavan yelled.

"No Pavan." I said trying to explain. But Pavan would have none of it.

"Shipra, I want you to text back in caps - NEVER TEXT OR CALL ME AGAIN"

"Come on Pavan. Don't be silly." I said, surprised at how much he was overreacting.

"Shipra, DO IT!!!" he yelled, the angriest I had ever seen him. Rage was billowing from his eyes and I saw that look I had seen when he had pushed me to the bed last week.

I was shell-shocked at this turn of events. Just a minute ago, we were passionately making out in the elevator, on our way to a definite romp in bed. And Pavan was ruining the mood by throwing a tantrum that was utterly uncalled for. Even worse, he wasn't even giving me a chance to explain that Jeff had only texted to tell us that he had taken a package from the courier service for us. I tried to form a short sentence I could slip in to calm him down when he screamed,

"ARE YOU GOING TO DO IT OR NOT?"

"Pavan, please. It's so unnecessary. And rude." I said.

"Fine. I am going to sleep." Pavan said and started changing.

I was just flabbergasted. And I felt so hurt that I started crying. Pavan ignored me and changed into shorts. he took a couple of strong Tylenol pills and laid down on the bed, turned away from me. I was distraught at not even being able to explain my side to him. And by then, he was so angry that I wondered if it would have any effect. I lay down next to him, sobbing. I felt extremely wronged, even more than I ever had. I waited for him to calm down so I could explain everything. Instead, he started snoring in a while.

At that point, my sadness started turning to anger. And my anger is not like Pavan's explosive and raging anger. My anger is a quiet seething anger. I had been very patient and understanding with Pavan until then. Taken the first steps towards rapprochement. And what had it earned me? Yells and insults? I stopped crying, and seethed at Pavan's childish behavior.

Fine, I decided. I was done trying to make up. It takes two to tango after all. I was the innocent party here. He was the paranoid one. From now on, he should take the initiative to work things out. I am only going to focus on having a good time, I decided. I also took a couple of the pills and fell asleep soon.

In the morning, both of us were quiet. I decided to wait for Pavan to make the first move. he seemed intent on waiting for me. But at least things were cordial. We had breakfast and then pavan suggested taking a Gondola ride in the Venetian's little pond. It was a small but cute reproduction of the actual gondola rides in V enice and I had fun. We then went back to the strip and hit the other casinos. Pavan focused on gambling, I focused on taking in the amazing atmosphere.

We spoke to each other occasionally. But those were polite conversations from a cease-fire. No passion, no love. Just hanging out like we were two acquaintances who had run into each other in Vegas.

Soon it was time for lunch. I had been admiring the Venetian's poolside restaurant earlier. I suggested we go there. Pavan agreed. Then I remembered the yellow bikini I had bought, and even shaved my pussy for. I thought of a devious plan to break Pavan. I could wear the bikini and frolic around the pool in it. That would weaken his resolve for sure. At the very least, it would tease him. I asked him if we could go upstairs so I could change into my swimsuit. He smiled and nodded.

When I put the bikini on in the bathroom, I had to stop and marvel at how great I looked in it. The yellow color went great with my Indian-white complexion. The top snugly fit my boobs while giving the appearance that they would spill out any moment. The bottoms were perfectly cut and my thighs looked appealing. And I turned around to check my bubble butt, which looked extremely inviting.

As soon as I walked out, the look in Pavan's eyes said it all. I could see a look of pure lust as he checked me out. I did my best to appear nonchalant and I walked around the room, occasionally bending over on the pretext of picking up some scrap. I could see that my teasing was having an effect. For a few moments, I was convinced that Pavan would jump me and ravish me right there. What better way to get over a fight than with passionate fucking. I was almost ready for it. But Pavan seemed to decide against it. Stubborn man, I thought. Letting go of this opportunity for the sake of a fight that had been over nothing.

Pavan changed into his swimming trunks in front of me. I could see that his dick was semi-erect. The bikini had done its job. Pavan was simply too stubborn to let his dick to the thinking on the one occasion that he should have.

After he changed, I tied a matching yellow sarong around my waist and we went down to the restaurant. We got a table right next to the pool, and from the corner of my eye, I noticed several people checking me out. And why wouldn't they? Most of the women at the pool were either young thin, almost anorexic ones, or fat ones. I was the only one who fit the description "voluptuous" and filled out a bikini the way it was meant to be. Pavan also kept casting admiring glances at me throughout the meal.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

I decided to try and tease him again. I go up and told him I was getting into the pool. If just the bikini had turned him on so much, I couldn't wait to see how he would react to it being wet. I got into the pool not with the intention of swimming, but teasing my husband. I swam short laps in different strokes close to where Pavan was eating. I did the backstroke, shaking my shoulders more than necessary, making the boobs jiggle in the bikini top, and give the impression that they would spill out any moment. The cold water also made my nipples hard.

Pavan's eyes had been locked on me for a while, but then I noticed he looked away. I followed his gaze to the other end of the pool and wondered if he was checking out some other woman. But I didn't see any women there. Just a couple of boys and an old man.

I decided that I had cast the bait for Pavan. Now it was his turn to bite. So I waded away to the far end of the pool. Now if he wanted to see me splash around in my bikini, he'd have to come over. I stood at the shallow end of the pool waiting for Pavan to jump in the water and swim over.

Instead, I saw a bald headed old man swimming towards me laboriously. He was headed straight for me, so I politely moved to the side to let him through. Instead of passing by he came to a stop and stood in the water next to me with a lecherous grin on his face.

"Has anyone told you that you're the hottest woman in Vegas today?" he said sounding cocksure and flirtatious. Not in the tone of some grandpa having a conversation, but someone actually trying to flirt. I felt like laughing at his corny line. But instead smiled and said,

"No. I don't think my husband would appreciate that." A line that usually worked with people hitting on me. It communicated that I was married, hence taken, and it sent the wolves packing. This guy was persistent thought.

"Your husband won't appreciate his wife being the hottest woman in Vegas? What an asshole." he said and cackled.

I was amused at his confidence. Especially such an ugly pudgy little man being so confident. I was not really used to that. Usually non-studs were intimidated by me looks.

"You look like a spicy little thing. Where are you from?" he asked, blatantly staring at me.

"New Jersey." I replied hoping to throw him off.

"And before that?" he calmly continued, not reacting to my wise-ass answer.

"Bombay, India." I replied.

"Ah, I should've figured." he said and slapped his forehead. "The hottest bitches I've fucked have been from Bombay."

I was about to burst out laughing. Was this his idea of flirting? Talking about "bitches" he "fucked"? But i was amused at his bravado.

"Is that so?" I said sarcastically.

"Yeah. I am quite the catch. Ask your curry dothead sisters."

As if profanity and lewd staring wasn't enough. this old fogey had thrown a racist slur into the mix. I began wondering if I was on candid camera or something.

"I'm Alan." he said.

"Shipra." I responded.

"Shipra. What an erotic name. That's what I love about Indian women's names. Just saying them a few times is enough to give a guy a boner."

I blushed a little and giggled.

"So where's your husband?" he asked.

I gestured towards our table where Pavan was talking to the waiter.

"Damn, that's too close. If he weren't here, I'd have hit on you, you little minx."

I was even more taken aback. "little minx"? I was at least 4 inches taller than this flabby geriatric. But I was amazed at his unrelenting confidence. Despite my rebuffing his advances at every stage, he kept striking back. He reminded me a bit of the black knight from the Monty Python sketch (look it up). He sensed my amazement and struck another shot.

"That husband of your seems okay. But you deserve someone really special."

"Like who?"

"Like me of course!" he said, sounding genuinely serious. Either this old timer really believed he was god's gift to women, or he had been hypnotized by someone at one of the Vegas shows. I could not help but giggle at his response. He laughed as well.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"You know that's one heckuva deep cleavage you've got. Mind showing me your ass?" he winked.

"Yes, I do mind." I responded. he was funny but there were limit to banter.

"Not a problem. I got a good look anyway. Nice full ass. Not skinny and tiny like girls today. You're a mom aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Nothing makes a woman hotter and more fuckable than motherhood." he said. "I better control myself or your husband will have to arrange for alimony."

I giggled at this latest wisecrack and tried to puncture his bubble.

"You seem really confident, considering...."

"Considering?"

"Well, considering..." I gestured towards him indicating that he wasn't quite the catch he was acting like.

"I am usually shy. Tongue tied." he said.

"Really?"

"Yeah, but a hot bod with a smoldering face like you got.....it could make any man take his chances." he said. I giggled again.

"Shipra!" I heard Pavan's voice. He had come around to the other edge. I looked at him. I heard him say something about dessert but wasn't sure what it was.

I nodded at him and said,

"Nice meeting you Alan. Goodbye." and without waiting for him to respond, swam towards Pavan.

"What did you say?" I put my elbows on the edge of the pool and asked him.

"The dessert. I ordered you..." Pavan started saying but was interrupted.

"And who might you be? Her father?" I heard Alan's voice. He had followed me and was now standing inches away from me, his wrinkly fingers grabbing on to the edge of the pool.

"Hehe..I told you he's my husband!" I laughed. "Pavan, meet Alan."

"Pleased to meet you." Alan extended his hand towards Pavan who bent down to shake it. he grabbed the hand and said,

"So you're the lucky son of a bitch who gets to take this gorgeous little pixie home every night huh?"

I almost burst out laughing at being called a little pixie. I also noticed that Pavan was struggling to free his hand from Alan's grip but wasn't succeeding. Pavan is very strong, so I was a bit surprised by that.

"Why did a spicy bombshell like you settle for an old fart like him, huh?" Alan said and started laughing, still grabbing on to Pavan's hand.

I was amused at this comment. Inwardly, I was laughing at Alan, not Pavan's discomfort. Alan was easily twice my age if not more. For him to call Pavan an old fart seemed ridiculous. Pavan however looked at me with a furious expression. he seemed to think I was amused at Alan's joke. I was actually glad to see Pavan in an uncomfortable position for a change. So just to piss him off even more, I giggled and said,

"Hehe...I don't remember actually."

Alan laughed really hard and released Pavan's hand. I then felt him put his arm around me and gently touched my shoulder. I was about to shake it off when I noticed the furious look in Pavan's face. And it amused me. There you go, I thought to myself. He's always imagining people hitting on me. Here's an actual man feeling me up. Let's see how Mr. Angry responds. Pavan seemed on the verge of erupting. But he stayed silent. A few seconds ticked back and I could hear Alan giggling softly as he kept his hand on my shoulder.

"Shipra! The dessert!" Pavan said in an annoyed voice.

Alright, the joke's gone far enough, I decided. No point in giving Pavan a coronary. He was no spring chicken either after all. I pulled myself up and out of the swimming pool, realizing that this must have given the close-up look at my ass he wanted. I walked with Alan to our table and sat down. I was shocked when Alan sat down on a chair at our table.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Yeah, their souffle is the best." he said, moving his chair close to mine. "I have eaten at the most expensive restaurants in this country. And the souffle here is the best."

"Is that so?" Pavan asked with undisguised contempt. But Alan clearly wasn't the kind who was thrown off by contempt.

"Oh yeah, I'm loaded. Got a dozen real estate companies all over the country."

"Really?" I asked with disbelief doing my best to suppress a laugh. This guy was loaded? Then I was the Queen of England. He was so obviously bullshitting just to talk himself up. I looked at Pavan who looked very annoyed at me for some reason.

"Yup! Ole Alan's got a lot of cash in case you ever wanna leave this old fart." Alan said and winked at me. I started laughing at his clueless machismo.

Pavan however looked even more pissed off. This was the second time he'd been called an old fart by a man old enough to be his father. I found it hilarious, and expected Pavan to reply with a stinging retort. Pavan was usually quick with words. But Alan seemed to have gotten under his skin. And that amused me. I laughed and Pavan shot me another dirty look.

"Yeah, ole Alan knows all about livin' it up in Vegas. In fact, why don't I take you to dinner to a real fancy place tonight? And then some fine cocktails?" Alan said looking into my eyes and then said, "Ponaav, you can come too."

I saw that Pavan was ticked off at what seemed like a blatantly deliberate mispronunciation of his name. Normally, Pavan would've responded in kind, saying something quick-witted like - No thank you Elton. You don't seem like the kind who belongs in a fancy place. Instead Pavan responded in a huff,

"Sorry, but we're busy tonight. We have a lot of plans. Right, Shipra?"

I looked at Alan with curiosity to see how he would respond. I was enjoying this childish verbal joust between the two men and was curious to see Alan's next move. In my curiosity, I didn't realize that I was supposed to say something and an eerie silence ensued.

"Right, Shipra?" Pavan said loudly and I looked at him. His face was red with rage and I was enjoying this. I decided that if Pavan wanted to shake this old leech off, he should do it himself. Like the protective alpha male that he pretends to be. I wasn't going to help him out.

'Oh..umm...what's our plan for tonight?" I asked.

"You mean you ain't got plans?" Alan said. "It's settled then. I'll see you two in the lobby at 8!"

Pavan glared at me. I looked back at him expressionlessly. The look on his face was obvious - I was supposed to say no. But I actually looked forward to some more Pavan-baiting. Plus what was there for me to lose? We'd get a free meal in a fancy restaurant with Alan's amusing quixotic antics.

"Okay, 8 it is." I said.

"Splendid." Alan said rubbing my bare shoulder. "See you then, little pixie. Bye Ponaav."

"It's Pavan." my husband responded testily but Alan ignored him Instead he got up to walk away, and the crotch of his speedo was very close to my face. Instinctively, I turned to look and was amazed to see an enormous...ENORMOUS bulge that I hadn't noticed before. I looked away immediately, not wanting to be caught staring at his crotch. But it was too late. Alan had clearly seen me notice, and chuckled as he left. And Pavan seemed to have noticed too, because he was looking even more irate.

We walked to the room in silence. And Pavan exploded,

"What a slimy pathetic old geezer! Why the fuck did you accept his invitation?"

"You could've said no." I pointed out and took my sarong off.

"I did. But you gave him a chance to put his foot in the door." I yelled.

"Come on, Pavan. He's just a silly old man. What harm can it do?" I said and walked to the bathroom. But even as I said that, I was thinking about the bulge in Alan's speedos.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

I took off my bikini and stepped into the shower naked. As I felt the water wash over me, I replayed the whole incident in my head and giggled. It had been fun to see Pavan get all hot and bothered. He had no response to Alan's verbal barbs or his blatant flirting. What a remarkably entertaining guy Alan was, I thought. Where does someone so old, wirnkly and ugly get such confidence?

And then I remembered the bulge in his speedos. It could have been an enlarged prostate, common with men that age. Or maybe he had a really big dick. I wondered how it looked. That is when the memories of that morning with Nigel in Goa came flooding back. Like Nigel, Alan was also a pasty old white man. I guessed heir dicks would look similar. I closed my eyes and remembered how Nigel's white circumcised dick looked. And before I knew it, I found myself in a fantasy.

I was replaying the events of that morning many years ago, but imagining Alan in the place of Nigel. I pictured a huge white erect dick. I imagined sucking it as Alan kept calling me "little pixie" and "spicy little thing". I then imagined him fingering my naked clit as I sucked his big dick. All the while, I was fingering my clit in the shower of course. before I knew it, a tsunami of an orgasm was surging through my entire body. I had to fight back the urge to holler, lest Pavan walk in with concern. The orgasm swept over me for a good thirty seconds or so and the end of it, I sank down on my knees in the shower.

I got up and started soaping myself, amazed at what I had just done. It wasn't the first time I had masturbated in the shower while thinking of someone other than Pavan. But it had usually been older filmstars - my favorites being Naseeruddin Shah, Kevin Spacey, and Sean Connery. The number of varied fantasies I had thought up of those three fine actors ravishing me could fill up an entire porn library. But it was the first time someone as ugly and despicable as Alan had made an entrance. I decided it was the effect of seeing his bulge so up close and personal.

I got done with the shower and walked out. The bulge in Alan's crotch was still playing on my mind. Maybe it was just prostate after all. I looked aat Pavan, sitting there looking like a child throwing a tantrum. I decided to take his opportunity to needle him a little.

"Pavan, did you notice Alan's.... you know....swimming costume?" I asked.

"Huh?" he acted like he had no idea what I was talking about.

"You know, the size of it? You probably didn't notice. It was huge!" I said, curious to see how he would react.

From his face, I could see he was feeling pissed off. At six inches with a good girth, Pavan was not lacking in that department at all. But like all men, he often obsessed over questions of size.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Well, it's probably an enlarged prostate or something." he said, trying to hide his anger and kept watching the TV. I started getting dressed.

I could sense that Pavan was in the mood to open another argument, this time about Alan. Luckily, we had a skype call scheduled with our beloved son Chintu. Thatt ook up two hours. At the end of it, I was feeling a little sleepy so I decided to take a nap. Pavan joined me.

---

After the nap, I started getting ready for dinner. I decided to wear one of my sexier outfits. I hoped that by the end of the night, Pavan would be so pissed off at Alan's outrageous flirting that he would fuck me rough and hard in rage. I liked it rough, and often loved the sex we had after arguments. So to entice Alan as well as to turn on Pavan, I chose a short pleated skirt that ended an inch above my knee. The pleats made it bounce when I walked in heels, displaying a lot of my thighs. And I wore a sleeveless top with a revealing neckline that displayed a lot of cleavage.

As I got dressed, Pavan kept staring at me, as if thinking of saying something. He also seemed turned on, which was the precise effect I was going for. We took the elevator down to the lobby at exactly 8 pm, and found Alan waiting for us.

Alan immediately commented on how "ravishing" I looked and checked me out rather blatantly. I found it inappropriate, but then everything Alan did or said seemed inappropriate, so it was hardly surprising. Alan made a couple more comments, completely ignoring Pavan's presence, not even saying Hi or Hello. Alan himself was dressed in what seemed like old cheap clothes. And he was wearing the most disgusting cologne I had ever smelt. It smelled like he was carrying a dead rodent in his pockets. Despite his modest appearance and horrid cologne, Alan seemed to be bursting with confidence.

He took us to a fancy restaurant which was on the same block as the Venetian. I looked around. there were a lot of empty tables. I noticed Alan slip the maitre'd a twenty dollar bill and whisper something. I looked at Pavan to see if he had noticed, but Pavan was looking elsewhere. We were led to a table very close to a performance stage with some instruments on it. The waiter pulled out a chair for me and I sat down.

Pavan was a couple of steps behind us. Alan took advantage of it and immediately plonked himself on the chair next to me. I was a bit annoyed, and I could tell from Pavan's face that so was he. He sat across from Alan and me, looking visibly peeved. Now, I had been enjoying using Alan to get a rise out of Pavan, but sitting next to this old fart for the whole dinner seemed like a bit much. I expected Pavan to step up and say something. Either ask me to move next to him or ask Alan to switch seats with him. But Pavan just sat there looking upset, as if expecting me to move.

Pavan's passive aggressive behavior about Alan's advances was beginning to tick me off. On one hand, I thought, he flew off the handle if some innocent guy who wasn't even interested in me, sent me a text message. On the other guy, this lecherous old perv was flirting with me in front of him and Pavan was doing nothing. What was wrong with him? Alan started the conversation with small talk about the weather, about Vegas, and such. He was directing his questions and comments only towards me, completely ignoring Pavan. Again, Pavan resembled a miffed hen, but didn't do anything to take control. The waiter came over again and we ordered drinks.

A few minutes later, the band started playing and the loud music filled the air around us. Pavan said something but I couldn't hear him. but I had no problem hearing Alan who was right next to me. I suddenly realized what the twenty dollars had changed hands for. Alan, the wily old fox, had arranged to get a table very close to the band, and then sit next to me so that he could talk to me without Pavan interrupting or hearing.

As soon as the music started, and it became obvious that Pavan couldn't hear us, Alan moved from polite small talk to the sort of blatantly bawdy lines that he had been throwing at me in the pool. he turned to face me completely and asked,

"So does pretty boy over there keep the sheets warm?"

"Excuse me?" I said more out of offense than for a need for clarification. But Alan was immune to offense.

"I mean does he keep that spicy cunt of yours full and happy?" Alan stepped up the lewdness even more.

I stared back at him expressionlessly. I looked at Pavan who wore a nonchalant expression on his face. He clearly hadn't heard Alan's questions. How was I supposed to respond to such an intensely personal question, that too phrased in such a crude manner? I was also surprised that Alan had asked this question. Could he tell from the chemistry between Pavan and me that all wasn't right in bed?

"That's a very personal question. And very vulgar. I am not answering it." I answered.

"Haha, you answered it." Alan cackled.

"No I didn't." I said haughtily.

"Yeah, I have a sixth sense for that sort of a thing. I know what women like you need."

"What?"

"A real man who knows his way around a woman's cooch." Alan said and then slowly put his hand on my knee.

I was taken aback at his boldness in touching me like that in front of my husband. I looked at my husband and saw that he had noticed it too. He looked at me with a furious expression on his face and his eyebrows raised. I waited for the other shoe to drop. I was sure the dinner was going to end abruptly. Any moment, Pavan would spring up from his chair, slap the wrinkly old hand away, and punch the daylights out of Alan. But Pavan just continued looking at me with eyebrows raised.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

So I'm supposed to fight him off, I wondered. I decided to push Pavan to his limit and see when he would finally step in. I just shrugged, as if to say - why don't you do something about it?

Alan noticed that I did not slap his hand away, and slowly began rubbing my knee.

"That's what you want. A real man." he repeated.

"And where would I find a real man?" I asked.

"He's sitting right next to you." Alan said and winked.

I tried hard to stop myself from laughing but couldn't. His delusional confidence was amusing. He seemed to actually think that he had a shot of seducing someone like me right in front of my husband? Did he not see that I was just using him as a pawn in my battle of wills with Pavan? That the moment Pavan lost his cool and stood up, Alan would be thrown out of our lives forever?

Obviously, Alan didn't. He ignored my laughter and continued oozing confidence, which had to be genuine because no one could put up an act for that long.

The waiter arrived with our drinks and Alan took his hand off my knee. Pavan and I had ordered beer, while Alan had ordered the most expensive scotch.

"Beer is such a pansy drink. Why don't you have a sip of my scotch?" Alan said.

I nodded, curious to see what such an expensive scotch (it was $35 per drink) tastes like. I wasn't really a scotch fan, but the price got me wondering. I was about to reach for the glass when Alan picked it up and brought it to my lips. I was taken aback by his latest move in flirtation. But it was so close to my lips that I just took a sip.

Wow, strong! the taste hit the back of my throat and I coughed right after I swallowed it. Alan started laughing and said,

"Come on. Don;t take a teeny sip like a collegegirl. Take a good swig. It gets better."

And again i found the glass at my lips. I took a longer swing and he was right. This one didn't seem too bad. I actually liked the flavor.

"See, you need a real man like me to tell you what's right for her." Alan said and put his arms around me. I felt his fingers on my bare shoulder and looked up at Pavan. he shot me another one of his "what the fuck? stop him!" looks. I shot him another one of my, "you're the man, you stop it!" looks.

The waiter came to take our order for food. He took Pavan's order first. I was about to pick up the menu which I hadn't even looked at when Alan squeezed my shoulder and said.

"Don't bother."

"What?"

"Don't bother. I am ordering for you." his tone changed from flirtatious to assertive, "I told you you need a real man to tell you what's right for you. And that goes for food as well."

I was offended and was about to say something insulting in return. But he squeezed my shoulder hard again, and the words got stuck in my throat. The waiter came over to our side.

"I'll have the lobster. And the lady will have a 16 ounce ribeye, medium rare. And two orders of the same scotch as before"

The waiter looked at me with a curious expression. When I didn't say anything, he nodded and walked off. I looked at Pavan who seemed to have noticed that Alan ordered for me. He knew how finicky I was about ordering food, and I am sure it bothered him. But he didn't say anything. Just sat there seething.

"Alright Shipra." Alan said in his assertive voice. "Let me tell you something."

I looked at him.

"You think you know what's happening and I don't." he said and then continued, carefully choosing his words. "The truth is, you have no clue what is happening. I know completely what is happening, and pretty boy there, he thinks he doesn't know, but he knows in his mind what is happening. Although he isn't ready to accept it yet."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"What?" It sounded like some sort of a puzzle.

"You want me to tell you what you think you know is happening?"

"Okay..." I was confused by his sudden change of tone.

"You think that I am some sort of a pawn in this game between you and your husband."

"What???" I said incredulously.

"Let me finish. You want to use me to push your husband to the edge and see how long it takes before he gets up and kicks my ass."

I stared at him dumbly. He knew?

"So let's say I touch your thigh like this." he moved his hand just over my knee. "You want to see if your husband will lose his cool."

"What are you talking about?"

"And the reason you're using me is, you think I am some deluded old fart who thinks he has a chance of bedding you, something you think will never happen."

"I think?" I laughed and said.

"Yes, you think I have no chance of getting you into bed."

"And I am wrong?"

"So wrong!" he said squeezing my thigh. I started laughing again. He continued.

"You think you're gonna quietly see how far I go with touching you and feeling you up, until it crosses your husband's limits. Then he'll kick me to the curb. And ride home with you into sunset. Am I right?"

"Probably." I saw no need to deny it.

"Now let me tell you what's actually happening." he said, taking his hand off my thigh. "What's happening is, your hubby dearest over there. He wants to see some other man use and abuse his wife. The surly expressions on his face tell me he hasn't come to terms with it yet. But the fact that he's done nothing yet tells me that's exactly what is happening."

"What nonsense!" I shook my head and said.

"It's the truth. You wanna push him some more? Let's see if he says something if I do this."

Alan put his hand back on my thigh and pushed my skirt up a couple of inches. Now half my thigh was on display. This had clearly gone beyond just touching and patting. It was a blatant pass. I looked at Pavan who noticed it. Again, he threw me a look of disgust. but didn't say or do anything. He took a big swig of scotch that he too had now ordered.

"See?" Alan said and kept rubbing my thigh.

"So you're saying my husband wants to see you keep doing this?" I incredulously said.

"Yup."

"Bullshit!" I said. "Look at how angry he is."

"He is only angry because he doesn't know how he feels."

We sat there in silence. I picked up my glass of scotch and took a couple of sips to process the information that Alan had just heaped on me. So he knew that I was just stringing him along. And he insisted that Pavan would not put a stop to anything. That sounded ridiculous to me. I had seen Pavan explode at the slightest suspicion of interest from another guy. The only reason he was silent so far is, he was trying to see when I caved.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Be that as it may. Alan seemed aware of exactly what I was thinking of. So..... why was he still here? Why was he risking getting beaten up by Pavan.

"I know what you're thinking." Alan squeezed my thigh and I looked at him.

"What am I thinking?" I said mockingly, but I was worried that he might actually be reading my mind.

"You are wondering what am I doing here if I know all this?"

I nodded.

"I am here because I know another thing you don't."

"And what's that?" Alan was now beginning to sound like Hercule Poirot at the end of a case.

"That you, my little pixie," he said squeezing my thigh a little higher than he had been, "really are going to get fucked by me tonight."

I started laughing and he joined in. Pavan thought we had shared a joke and looked more peeved.

"I admire your deluded confidence, Alan." I said after I was done laughing.

"And I pity your deluded confidence, Shipra." he replied without batting an eyelid and that shook my self-belief a litle.

The food arrived and Alan started tucking into it with gusto. Pavan started eating his chicken. And I poked at my steak absent-mindedly and was more focused on the scotch. I finished my second one for the night and Alan ordered a third. Whether to keep our game going or to keep his hold on me, Alan continued to stroke my thighs and shoulder throughout dinner. Pavan kept casting me dirty looks. And I started ignoring his looks. By now the ball was squarely in his court.

Actually, I had stopped thinking about the staring game with Pavan, and was wondering about the little side-game with Alan. Alan seemed supremely confident that he would seduce me. Yes, he had a big dick, but it takes a lot more than that to seduce a woman. He was uncouth, rude, arrogant, ugly, dressed lousy, and smelled bad. How could he still think he had a chance with someone like me?

On the other hand, a part of me was charmed and quite frankly fascinated by Alan's confidence. It was amusing. But it was also.... alluring in a fascinating sort of way. I thought it almost impossible that I would go home tonight with anyone but Pavan. But what if I actually did end up sleeping with Alan? The thought revolted and aroused me in equal measure. I was reminded of earlier in the day when I masturbated while casting Alan in my Nigel memories. Could it actually happen? I didn't see any way it could, but still.

In a perverse way, a part of me started wishing for my own felling at the hand of this obnoxious little codger. It's a feeling only women can understand - of being revolted by a sexual prospect, yet wishing for it to happen. I was smiling to myself as I thought of all this. And was just taking a few bites of the steak now and then.

"Eat it. Eat it." Alan said, squeezing my thigh again.

"I am." I smiled at him, trying to suppress the thoughts that were running through my mind.

"You'll need the strength from the protein. I promise I'm gonna keep you up all night." Alan said glibly and got back to wolfing down his food.

I chuckled again at his confidence and the reasoning he gave to urge me to finish my meal. But maybe it was all the scotch I had downed, because I was simply not feeling hungry. A while later, Alan started with his bravado again.

"You'll be my 5th Indian." he said.

"Yeah right." I snorted derisively.

"So what number Indian do you think you'll be for me?" he asked.

"I'll be your..." I paused when I realized what I was about to say. "Oh shut up! I am not going to be your anything."

Alan laughed at the near-success of his trick question. I laughed too. His self-confidence was now moving from amusing to charming, and even a little disconcerting. I continued to drink more often than I was eating. I didn't realize it then, but I myself was putting on a big show of bravado and confidence, whereas subconsciously, I was petrified that Alan might be proved right. And my drinking that much, way more than usual, was my instinctive way of coping with it.

Finally dinner was done. At least Alan's was. Pavan left about half his plate untouched. I left most of mine on the plate. The waiter came and took the plates away. Pavan looked furious, but he also looked ready to leave. Alan said to me,

"Here's another chance for your pretty boy to step up."

Then he got up, bent over and said to Pavan, "We're gonna dance a little."

Alan slid out of his chair and started walking towards the dance floor. I avoided Pavan's gaze, and got up myself. I was rooting for Pavan to step up and say - Enough of this nonsense. Let's go back to the room. I started walking behind Alan. I could feel Pavan's gaze burning into my back. But he didn't say anything. I started wondering if Alan was right. If the article I had read in that magazine was right. Was Pavan really wishing for me to have sex with another man? Is that what his outbursts of jealously were all about?

As i walked to the dance floor, I felt my head spin a little. I wasn't really drunk yet, but I could feel the effects of the scotch on a nearly empty stomach hitting me. No more drinks, I decided. The "dance floor" wasn't much of a dance floor. Just a small area where drunk couples were dancing clumsily. Alan stood a foot away from me and started what he thought was "dancing". It was hilarious. The man had absolutely no rhythm. He just moved his hands and feet and hopped around with supreme confidence. I admired how self-assured he was even when doing something he sucked at. I decided that if even a tenth of what Alan had been implying about his sexual conquests was true, it was all because of his unshakable confidence.

I kept glancing back at Pavan as we danced. His eyes were fixed on us. He wore a bothered look. But again, it bugged me that he didn't exercise the one power he still had - of calling the proceedings to a halt. I heard Alan say something and looked back at him. Or down at him. With heels on, I was at least half a foot taller than him.

"What?" I asked.

"I asked if you're on the pill." he asked with a lecherous smile.

"None of your business." I giggled as I replied. The booze was definitely getting to me.

"It could be my business. I don't want to have to end up paying child support." he winked. I laughed.

"Don't worry. You're not going to have to pay child support."

"Even if I get you pregnant?" he asked, shaking his hands like a rooster.

"Yes, even if you get me pregnant." I laughed and said.

The peppy music continued for at least twenty minutes and we kept dancing. I was impressed by Alan's stamina. I had expected him to be tired by now. But he was still going at it with his ridiculous dance moves. And he kept making lewd comments with the assurance that I was going to end up in his bed that night.

The dance number ended and a slow ballad started. I turned around to head back to the table, but Alan grabbed my hand and pulled me into an embrace. I spun as I almost fell into his arms, but he handled my weight and height easily. He held me and started swaying to the music. I hoped that at least this would be the point Pavan interrupted us.

Alan's armed were locked around me and his hands were on my lower back. I tentatively put my hands on his shoulder and swayed with him slowly. His bald head came barely up to my chin, and once again I felt that bipolar emotion - the disgust that such a man thought he could seduce me, and a fascination at the possibility of it actually happening. A part of me was cheering - "Go Alan Go!"

After a couple of minutes, I felt Alan slowly moved his hand from my back to my butt.

"Oh fuck what an ass!" he whispered and started fondling it.

This was the first time that alarm bells went off in my head and I really wished Pavan would step in. I could not help but feel turned on by his rough fingers kneading my ample buttocks so brazenly and in public view. I noticed that a few people around me were pointing to us and smiling. And I thought about stopping it. Yes, if Pavan does not, I should. I should just stop it. I noticed that Alan's breathing was getting heavier on my neck.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

And just as I was about to push him away, I felt it. A gentle poke at my thigh. Oh my god! he was getting an erection right there! I swayed in his arms spellbound as the poking intensified. And soon I felt it, and I mean ALL of it, rubbing along the length of my thigh. Alan began to gently grind against me, rubbing his dick against me, and I started feeling panicky. Just by feeling it grind against me, I could tell it was larger than anything I had ever seen or experienced. Heck, it was even larger than what I had fantasized in the the shower that afternoon. Longer AND thicker.

"What do you think?" Alan whispered as he intensified his grinding. I started feeling alarmed and looked around, hoping no one had noticed it.

"Huh?"

"Do you think your puny little Indian cunt can take something that big?"

"I...I...I...I don't know." I truthfully replied. My throat suddenly felt all parched. For the first time that night, I actually seriously flirted with the possibility that this might happen. And I might let it happen. I could feel myself starting to get wet down there. That's not a great situation to be in - dry throat and wet pussy.

"Maybe we'll see later if it can, huh?" he said and continued grinding the dick even harder against me. I almost felt it invading my skin.

I said nothing and continued swaying, petrified and struggling with conflicting feelings.

"I asked you something." Alan said and pinched my butt really hard. I stared into his eyes. And then whispered my response,

"Maybe..."

The song ended and the band announced a break. Alan let go off me and started leading me back to the table. I looked at the crotch of it pants. And there it was, forming a huge tent now, almost threating to tear apart the fabric. I was feeling disgusted at my reaction to what he had done, but more than that I was enraged at Pavan for watching this silently. As I sat back down i cast him an angry and dirty look. He responded in kind and I looked away in disgust.

There was another glass of scotch at the table and I nervously sipped at it, hoping to calm myself down. I looked back at Pavan and saw that he was staring at the tent in Alan's pants. Pavan must have realized that this old codger had spent the last few minutes rubbing his erection against his beautiful wife. Surely he would say something now. But instead he wore a look of alarm. And I realized that Alan was in complete control of the proceedings. And of my actions. Even sitting at the table, my pussy remained moist.

A few seconds later, I felt the familiar touch of Alan;s wrinkled hands on my thigh. But this time, he didn't stop. the hand kept going and going. All the way inside. before I could open my mouth and yell "STOP!" his finger stroked me. Right there on the clit. He clearly knew where to aim and what to do. My resolve to stop him weakened as his fingers started rubbing my clit over my panties. I could not help but give myself in to the moment, and I closed my eyes and just enjoyed whatever he was doing to me.

Minutes seemed like hours as my arousal grew exponentially with every stroke of his. I marveled at Alan's skill to be able to play with me so deftly over my panties. I wondered what he would do if he got his finger inside. A few moments later, i got my answer. His other hand poked at my thighs meaningfully and I parted them. This allowed Alan to slip his finger into the side of my panties and touch my clit directly. I was in a daze as I started experiencing please that was tenfold of what he had been giving to me over the panties. I could feel my nipples harden and poke against my top.

I was at that moment more turned on than I had ever been in recent memory. And I could feel a mammoth orgasm approaching. Even in that state, I could not help but think of Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally. If this went on for a while more, I would be having what she had, or what she pretended to have. It was coming. It was bearing down. I could feel it. I knew it would create a scene, but I didn't care.

And then, Alan took his hand out. Just seconds away from climax. I could not help but moan in frustration. I had been so close. But at the same time, I was glad it hadn;t happened. I opened my eyes and looked into Pavan's. His face wore an odd expression. Angry, aghast, but also, turned on. maybe Alan was right. maybe my husband, unknowingly, was rooting for this to happen as well. That's why he didn't stop me when he should have. What a wimp! But it was in my hands too, wasn't it? I looked away from him in shame.

Alan got up. I was staring at the table when I heard him say,

"I am taking her to my suite back at the Venetian. You can come along too if you want."

It was clearly directed at Pavan. Alan held out his hand in my direction. From his perspective, all the hard work was done. The trap was laid. He just needed to swoop in and finish the job off. I was let him rub his dick against me, and then let him finger me into a state of frenzy in a public place. Of course I was, at that point of time, all but ready for the kill. I wanted it. I needed it. It was going to be the culmination of the chapter that had started in Goa all those years ago, but cut short by Nigel's wife. It was a more primal and intense need than I had ever felt with Pavan. I had to go.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

But as far gone as I was, and as eager as I felt to take his hand and go with him, a part of me resisted. No, this is not right. I am a married woman. This man sitting across from me is the father of my child. How could he just sit back and let this happen? Surely it was his job to stop me.

"Pavan." I said in a voice I myself could barely recognize.

"Hmmm?" he said, looking stunned.

"What should I do?" I asked in a voice that was on the verge of breaking down. I fought back the instinct to cry.

Pavan just stared at me. Alan was still holding his hand out.

"What should I do, Pavan?" I said once more in a high pitched voice.

In my mind, I silently implored Pavan to say - don't go, or this is enough, or let's get out of here. Instead he stared at me for what seemed like an eternity.

And then he shrugged.

He shrugged!

He fucking shrugged!!!

This man, my husband couldn't even bring himself to say what he was feeling. If he wanted it to stop, he wasn't able to verbalize it. And if he actually wanted it to happen like Alan had been insisting all along, he didn't have the fortitude to admit it. After riding roughshod over a lot of other decisions in our lives, he was leaving this crucial one for me. So he could blame me later?

I exhaled loudly and threw Pavan a look of disgust. I took Alan's hand and got up. He put his arm around my waist and led me away, strutting like a peacock. --- Preface - This story is the same as Old Man and the Wife but here, the wife narrates. Again, thanks to aurelius1982 who helped me write what was in my head. You can read the husband's narration first. It will put the events here in perspective. This story also fills in some gaps that the other story has. In fact I suggest having both stories open simultaneously to note the different ways in which two people view the same situation.

My name is Shipra and before I get to the events in Las Vegas, I think it'd be useful to talk a little about the relevant portions of my past.

I am the younger of two sisters, born in a family that was very liberal. My parents were both college professors, and they never treated my sister or I like average Indian parents treat girls. We were encouraged to give our best and excel at everything, be it academics or sports.

I was always considered a very cute and pretty child, and was used to attention from everyone. But despite my dainty looks, I was a bit of a tomboy and spent most of my early childhood on the playground with boys. Around age 12 is when the first major changes in my life began. I hit puberty and started growing in every which way. I shot up eight inches in just over a year, and started filling out as well. Initially, I was embarrassed at the unstoppable growth of my boobs. Boys whom I used to play with were starting to notice the change too, leading to some awkwardness. My abnormal height combined with my big boobs led me to unconsciously adopt a hunching posture.

Luckily, my parents were great at communicating with me and explained that I had nothing to be ashamed of. I was told that an ample chest is seen as a sign of beauty, as is being tall, and I should not be ashamed of my body. I stopped hunching, and through my teenage years, came to terms with my looks. I started reading about love and sex, watched sneaked porno films with girlfriends, and was soon fantasizing about naughty things.

It turns out that having encouraging, even demanding parents, can be a bit of a double edged sword in India. Thanks to their pushing, I excelled at studies, sport (played basketball and volleyball for the state), and was well-read and exposed to quality cinema. While my girlfriends read Nancy Drew, I had moved on to Raymond Chandler. When they moved on to trashy Mills&Boons romance novels, I finished Jane Austen. And when they discovered Jane Austen, I was reading the works of Camus, Dostoevsky, Vonnegut, and Borges.

While my parents were proud they were raising such a well-rounded daughter, they didn't realize that it made me something of a snob when it came to my peers. I wasn't a bitch or anything, but I did find it difficult to get interested in guys my age. The good looking jocks were too dumb for me to connect with intellectually. the smart ones were too clumsy, geeky, and awkward around my radiant beauty.

By the time I turned 18, I had briefly dated a few guys, but couldn't really feel too attracted to them. I had a hyperactive imagination when it came to sex and I read about it voraciously. So I had no qualms losing my virginity to a jock one year older to me one weekend when his parents were out of town. We had sex a few more times, but I simply did not get the rush or the excitement I had read so much about. Maybe because he had been a virgin too, and didn't know much of what he was doing. I broke up with him, hooked up with another guy, but again, the mental as well as physical connection was lacking.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

I finished 12th grade in the same year my sister finished college. My parents decided to take us on a vacation to Goa. We rented a small beach cabin on South Goa and spent the days lounging on the beach, reading, trying different kinds of seafood, and playing some games.

One night, after my parents had fallen asleep, my sister and I went for a walk on the beach. We didn't want to stray too far that late at night, so we kept doing the rounds of the beach close to our cabin, as we engaged in the usual sisterly talk about boys, clothes, books, and life. My sister was planning on taking the GRE and applying to American grad colleges, something my parents were extremely supportive of. She was telling me about her latest break-up, when we noticed a man walking a few feet behind us.

"Hi, sorry if I scared you." the man said in a British accent and approached us.

He was old, maybe in his late 50s. But looked very lean and fit. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and knee-length shorts and had what looked like an expensive SLR camera around his neck. he did not look scary or intimidating at all, so my sister and I stopped to talk to him.

"Hello. My name is Nigel." he said extending his hand towards us. My sister shook it.

"Hi." I said.

"I am sorry, but I couldn't help but notice you as you were walking on the beach." he said, looking at me. "And this may seem abrupt, but have you considered a career in modelling?"

"Excuse me?" my sister jumped in.

"I am a fashion photographer based in London here to scout talent for a modeling assignment. Would you be interested?"

"Shipra?" my sister smiled and looked at me questioningly.

"Ummm.. I don't think I am interested." I said. This wasn't the first time someone had suggested modeling as a career option. When you are a pretty young lady standing at 5 ft 10 in Bombay, you keep getting approached with such offers. But I had no interest in pursuing a career that consisted of starving yourself and strutting around on a ramp.

"Why not? There's good money in it." Nigel said, checking me out from head to toe. I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt.

"We don't need money." my sister barged in. "Thanks but bye."

We walked away giggling. My sister teased me about it for a while and we turned around and continued walking towards the cabin. We were both feeling a little peckish so we decided to stop at a beach shack for some food. I noticed that Nigel was sitting a few tables away drinking beer. He smiled at us when we walked in and we smiled back. The food arrived, we ate and then my sister said she needed to use the bathroom.

As soon as she left, Nigel got up and approached me. I smiled, and he took it as an invitation to sit down, which he did, next to me.

"You really have a gorgeous face." he said leaning close to me.

"Thank you." I said and blushed.

"Amazing tits too."

"Excuse me?!"

I shot him a dirty look but he was unfazed by it. He was very obviously ogling my breasts which were pushing against the t-shirt. At that time, I measured 34D. I expected him to look away, but he didn't. He continued to eye me with a hungry expression on his face. A few seconds later, he said.

"And these legs." and he put his hand on my thigh.

I felt a bolt of electricity surge through my body at his touch. And I felt confused. No other man's touch had ever produced this kind of a reaction from me. I sat there dumbstruck as he gently rubbed my thigh.

"You're a gorgeous little thing that could set the ramp on fire. All these Indian super-models have nothing on you." Nigel said in a husky voice.

That's when we both noticed my sister walking out of the bathroom. He took his hand off my leg and said,

"If you want to discuss this further without big sister snooping around, I am staying at the Palm Resort. Come by tomorrow. Just ask for Nigel at the reception."

I sat there stunned at the pass that had been made at me. My sister sat down and asked what the old Brit wanted. Nothing, I said. He was just saying hi. We got back to the cabin. And I had trouble sleeping. I kept replaying in my mind the moments when he was staring at my breasts and when he had rubbed my thigh. I was taken in by his confidence, something that was lacking in boys my age.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

I found myself fantasizing about him. I imaged him fucking me on the beach as the waves washed over us. I imagined him putting his dick in my mouth and making me suck it. The fantasies made me cum hard in bed, and I had to struggle to not make any noise with my sister sleeping on the next bed.

The next morning I stood outside his cabin door in the Palm Resort, unsure about whether I was doing the right thing. I had feigned a headache when my parents woke me up for our planned day-long cruise and convinced them to leave me in the hotel. An hour after my family left for the cruise, I headed over to the Palm Resort.

I finally knocked on the door and Nigel answered it after a couple of minutes. He only had a towel wrapped around his waist, and the sight of his taut hairy chest made my heart skip a beat. he invited me in and rushed to the other room to get dressed. He came out a minute later, wearing only beach shorts. I guess he had seen my taking an admiring look at his chest, so had chosen to remain shirtless.

"So." Nigel said sitting down so close to me that our thighs touched. "You are interested in modelling after all? But your conservative Indian family won't let you try it?"

"Well." I said looking into his deep blue eyes. "My parents are cool with anything I choose. if I decide to get into modelling, they'll support me."

"That's great!"

"But I am not interested in modelling." I said.

"You're not?" he asked, confused.

"No."

"Why are you here then?" he asked.

I just shrugged. He smiled. Then he confidently put his hand on my thigh and started rubbing it. Like the previous night, I felt excitement surge through my body. When he saw no resistance from me, he bent over and kissed me on my lips. I felt his grey stubble prick my soft cheeks and it actually felt nice. I kissed him back enthusiastically. he was a better kisser than my previous boyfriends, and we continued to make out for a few minutes, during which he started mauling my tits.

Nigel then took my hand and put it on his shorts. I could feel the erection under there. I started rubbing it. He took it out of the shorts and I got my first look at a white man's circumcised dick. I played with it with my hands for a while, getting it completely hard. Then Nigel forced my head down into his lap, making me take his dick into my mouth. I noted how confident and assertive he was, compared to my other boyfriends who had been very tentative and clumsy. Nigel was clearly very experienced at this and his assured adeptness was turning me on.

"Use your tongue. Swirl it around my dick." Nigel said. "Good, now wrap your lips tight and move your head gently."

For the next ten minutes, Nigel gave me a detailed lesson on blowjob technique. I must have been a quick learner, because soon after that, I felt his dick shiver in my mouth and he started cumming. This was a new feeling for me. I had sucked the other guys' dicks before, but they had never cum in my mouth. I tasted the unfamiliar bitter semen as it filled up my mouth.

"Swallow it!" Nigel said in a commanding voice, and I did.

A few moments later, I was naked from the waist down, my legs spread with Nigel's head between them. He was doing simply the most wonderful things to my clit with his tongue. This was the first time someone had gone down on me and I was loving it. I had my first orgasm in just a few minutes of his tongueplay, and the second was approaching when....

CLICK

The door opened, and in walked an old lady, about Nigel's age. Her mouth fell open as she surveyed the sight in front of her - me, naked from the waist down with my long legs spread out, and a naked Nigel with his tongue lapping at my clit.

"For fuck's sake, Nigel!" the lady yelled. "Who's this? Some Goan whore?"

"Edith, I can explain." Nigel jumped up and pulled his shorts on.

I reached for my shorts and panties and was about to put them on when 'Edith' rushed towards me and grabbed me by the ear.

"Your dirty tramp!" she screeched as she pulled me off the couch, still naked from the waist down, with my clothes in my hand. "Get out of here,"

She dragged me to the cabin door and pushed me out. I stumbled and fell on the porch.

"If i see you around here again, i'll cut those tits off!" she yelled and slammed the door shut.

I got to my feet and noticed that a waiter was standing a few feet away, staring at my naked ass. I hurriedly put my shorts back on, and ran back to our cabin.

-----

That was the episode that first piqued my interest in older - much much older men. I started wondering if all older men had the kind of confidence and expertise that Nigel had displayed during our short fling. But I didn't really have too many opportunities to explore this new hobby of mine. Even a short dalliance with an unknown foreigner in Goa had ended disastrously. What hope did normal life back in Bombay offer?

I got into the best engineering college in Bombay, and as one of the few good looking girls in class, got hit on a lot. But again, the guys just seemed too immature. I had my eyes on a couple of dishy looking older professors. Even flirted with a couple of them during office hours. But they were either very straight-laced or too intimidated by my appearance. No one ever made a move.

Through 4 years of college and then 2 years of MBA, I dated a handful of guys. The sex did get better. Twenty-somethings are bound to be more skilled at sex than teenagers. But still, I kept fantasizing about older men. A lot of the older men I met - from professors to shopkeepers to neighbors, featured in my fantasies as I slept with guys my own age. But an opportunity to act on it never arose. They were all married, and I was mindful of how the Nigel episode had turned out.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

After my MBA I got a job in a prestigious bank. The guy I was sleeping with at that time was getting annoyingly serious about or relationship. He was good in the sack, but I found him too shallow to really make a life with. So I ended it and prepared for a career in banking.

When I walked into the conference room for inductee training, most of my fellow newbies were already there. I scanned the room and noticed a handsome older man, maybe 40 or so, staring at me. His gaze was obviously on my bosom, which had now grown to 34DD and even formalwear couldn't hide. I looked into his eyes and smiled. He smiled back sheepishly and then looked away. He spoke to us later about his division. His name was Pavan, and I heard later that he was one of the hot-shot fast track executives in the bank. Youngest Vice President in the bank's short history. And, I later learned, single!

Pavan was everything I would want in a guy - he was older, with some gray hair beginning to appear at the edge of his temples. He was tall and handsome, very fit for his age. And he had a charming personality. After training, when we were offered a choice, I opted for Pavan's division. I was really looking forward to getting to know him. And I saw it as a great opportunity to live out my fucked-by-the-boss fantasies.

I had heard of Pavan's reputation as a bit of a playboy, so was expecting him to hit on me soon enough. But he kept it strictly professional. Even more annoying was the fact that almost every other single guy in the division seemed to be hitting on me, and I had to spend a lot of time fending off their advances politely. After a few days, I decided to send stronger signals.

During our conversations, I would drop a compliment about how yummy he looked. If he returned the compliment, I would blush a little too much. I asked him about things outside of work. I was glad to know that his taste in books and movies was refined, and there was a lot for us to talk about. I even gave him a lot of the textbook signals - adjusting my hair, making eye-contact, touching him gently on the arm, and so on. When there was no response from his end, I wondered if he simply was not that into me.

And then finally, he asked me out. Things moved rapidly after that. Pavan certainly was quite the charmer. And he was quite good in bed. His dick was decent sized, in fact slightly bigger than most other guys I had been with. But more importantly, he knew how to use it. Sex with him was heavenly. And I started feeling truly satisfied in bed, for the first time in my life. Even other than sex, things were going great. When he proposed, I had no hesitation in saying yes. And we got married.

A few months later I was pregnant. I was really excited about having a baby. I had opted for higher studies mainly to keep my parents happy. But somewhere down the line, I had realized that what really interested me was not boardroom battles or promotions, but being a mother. I had spoken to Pavan about this very often, and he had no problems when i decided to quit my job and stay at home to raise our son Chintu full time.

Chintu's birth and my decision to quit my job were watershed moments in more ways than one. Having spent most of my waking hours studying or working until then, I found the luxury of the free time liberating as well as disconcerting. Until Chintu turned one, I had little free time of course. Taking care of him was a full time job. But as time went by, I found myself wondering about what to do with my free time. Pavan had started working longer hours, so I turned to my friends from engineering college and MBA days.

Most of my friends were male. For some reason, other than my sister, I found it difficult to get along with other women. And guys were very comfortable making friends with me too. The reason, one of my friends theorized, was that since I was so pretty, tall and intelligent, most guys assumed I was out of their league. Once the possibility of romance or sex was out of the way, guys found it easier to treat me like "one of the guys". Besides, my interests in sports, action movies, and cars gelled well with the guys. So I had always been "one of the guys" for them. And since I was more interested in older men than my contemporaries, I also found it easier to view them platonically.

Initially, Pavan was okay with most of my close friends being guys. But as time went by, it started to rankle him. he started making sarcastic comments about some of my closest friendships with guys. Occasionally there was a hint of an accusation. he first few times this happened, i just ignored it, putting it down to stress from work. But then as Pavan's complaints about my friends grew, I started wondering what the exact problem was.

I wondered if it had something to do with our sex life. Pavan was 40 when we got married, so with each passing year, his age was catching up with him. he still worked out and kept fit, but I noticed that the frequency with which we had sex started diminishing. I wondered if it had to do with me. I wasn't as svelte and slim as I was before marriage. But I still had maintained a flat stomach, and the extra weight I had put on after getting pregnant was spread out. I went from a 26 waist to a 28 waist, and a round but perky 34 butt to a round and voluptuous 38 butt. I was sure I still looked good enough. So I was reasonably confident that my looks had nothing to do with our sex frequency dropping down to once or twice a week.

The frequency of the arguments over my male friends however, kept growing. And it truly baffled me, because if I had been attracted to any of them, I would've slept with them long before Pavan even came into my life. Most of my friends were married, and I was friendly with their wives as well. If the wives didn't feel threatened by my friendship with their husbands, why did my husband?

--

[Ramesh_Rocky]

A few years passed by and I had come to accept Pavan's grumbles about my friends as a part of life. My conscience was clean. I had never even come close to cheating on him, so as far as I was concerned, it was just paranoia brought on by the insecurity of his declining sexual prowess. Occasionally, I considered suggesting that he see a doctor about erectile dysfunction. But I knew how touchy Pavan was about that. Whenever he was unable to get it up, he would get very defensive and surly, sometimes blaming me for "coming on too strong". So the sex in our marriage wasn't great, but with a precocious little boy to attend to, it stopped being a concern. I had more or less settled into the life of a regular housewife.

One day Pavan came home and announced he had just interviewed for a position with a global bank on Wall Street, and if he go the job, we'd be moving to New York. I was peeved, at the fact that he had not consulted me before the interview. I could understand his desire to pursue this opportunity, but we were a family, and I insisted that such decisions should be taken together. He didn't take my concerns very well. He refused to even have a conversation about it. I tried explaining that I didn't mind the move, but considering that Chintu and I both had friends and connections in Bombay, he should have at least talked to me about it. Pavan just muttered something about how I cared about being close to my "friends" than his career and ended the topic there.

A couple of days later, we learned that Pavan had gotten the job. I saw no point in holding him back, so I agreed to the move. And off we flew to New York, leaving our friends and family behind. The move was exactly as I had expected. It was fun living in the New York area....New Jersey to be precise... but the fun was offset by loneliness. I tried mingling with a few of the Indian wives in the neighborhood, but they were a little too homely and conservative for my tastes.

I was relieved about one thing though. Although I had no friends around, at least Pavan's insecure rants about my male friends stopped. We settled into a fairly cosy existence in the new Jersey suburbs. Chintu's sulking about being taken away from his friends in Bombay didn't last very long either. He soon made friends in college and in the neighborhood, especially a boy his age who lived next door. The boy's father, Jeff, was a nice guy and I soon became friendly with him.

Jeff was divorced and had custody of his son. To get he flexibility of raising a son as a single dad, Jeff had quit his job and ran a catering business from his house. Jeff reminded me a lot of my guy friends back in India - friendly, energetic, talkative, helpful, and a great conversationalist. He was also extremely social, and would drop by all the time asking me to taste some dish or the other that he had concocted. He would also ask me for tips on Indian cooking. Besides, we shared a lot of the same likes in books and music. So it was common for Jeff and his son to come over, or me and Chintu to go over to his place. The boys would play and Jeff and I would talk or experiment with cooking.

Sure enough, Pavan's jealous side returned with a vengeance. He started getting antsy about Jeff and me hanging out so much. I tried to explain to Pavan that a) jeff had never even remotely tried to make a pass at me, and b) even if he had, i was simply NOT attracted to him. But such reasonable arguments never found favor with Pavan, who started sulking more and more. Pavan's performance in bed had declined even further.

So I decided to spice things up a little. Ever since Chintu was born, my wardrobe had turned into that of a homely housewife. Living in Bombay in a fairly conservative neighborhood further played its part. But now I was in the US! So I decided to give myself a makeover. I got my hair styled, and bought a lot of new skimpy and revealing clothes - shorts, hot pants, skirts, tank tops and revealing blouses. I started dressing in these revealing clothes in an attempt to revive Pavan's interest in sex.

It did work. To an extent. Pavan noticed the change in my wardrobe and made some favorable comments, It did lead to a brief spike in our bedroom action. But Pavan still seemed bothered by Jeff. Once he said jokingly that he wondered if I had started wearing revealing clothes to entice Jeff. I was taken aback, but Pavan laughed it off saying it was a joke. I could however detect a grain of insecurity in what he said. And it pissed me off. Here I had gone to such great lengths to rekindle my husband's interest in me. And he suspected it was all for Jeff?

Once when I was waiting in the supermarket line, my eyes fell on a women's magazine near the counter. It had a blurb that said - "What Might Be behind Your Husband's Jealousy?". My interest was piqued and I bought the magazine. The article said that if your husband is being excessively jealous and insecure, it might be the result of him hiding his true desires to see you with another man. Many men have latent cuckolding desires, the article said, that they cannot come to terms with. Sot hey spend a lot of their time fantasizing about their wives sleeping with other men, and it comes out as jealousy. I was taken aback at what the article suggested. Is that what Pavan really fantasized about?

I remembered that in our early days of dating, Pavan had quizzed me in great detail about my past lovers. And I had told him about them all, except for the Nigel episode which I had thought too embarrassing to share. Whenever I told Pavan details about my time in bed with other men, he got very aroused and we would have sex right away. But his inquiries about my past had stopped long back. Was he really a closeted cuckold, I wondered. Nah, couldn't be, I decided and threw the magazine away.