Adultery Across Rooftops by misterwho

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Sheila assumed that because her building was the tallest in the area no one could really spot her. She had built her house in a style to remind of her Shillong days; that was not so easy considering that this South Indian city was rapidly losing its greenery.

And while the rooms and much of the house was on the ground and first floor, on the second floor she had her room, surrounded by a riotous burst of greenery, shrubs and ornamental plants. It was her refuge. As her son grew into a teenager she found it necessary to meet the needs of her bubbling cauldron of sexuality in different ways than it had been in the past.

Over the years she had a string of lovers. Some dearer to her with whom she spent long, languorous hours when the house was quiet. Others were more to do with her lust unleashed as she took a fancy to a young man and devoured him as a special treat. On many of the occasions the quiet of her house was rent apart by the animal bellowing she allowed herself.

In Shillong and in other stations where her husband's job took them, the houses were palatial bungalows. There were rooms which had glasses on all sides overlooking lush forests. There were gas fired heater rooms where, despite the torrential storms that lasted hours, it would be warm and dry. And in that wild weather interruption was no risk. And to the howls of the wind she added the tempestuous shouts of her own delight.

Of her lovers only some could match her vocalisation. They were all younger, fitter and libidinous in their youth: that is why they were chosen by her. Not one of them lacked the stud-like virility she craved, hungered and feasted on. But they were all junior officers of the company in which her husband worked, or young managers at banks and other companies for whom her husband's company was a client.

None of the young men could ever forget that. Seduced as they had been by Sheila, voluptuous with large breasts and hips in which to sink was a delight, they were all too aware who they were fucking. None of of them never lost sight of the fact of who they were with. She made sure it stayed that way no matter how intimate the moment was; be it how they were being ridden, or were sucking those lovely large breasts, or buried between the thighs and drinking, or ramming hard to tame the unquenchable. She was the wife of a person who could change their careers.

And that is why even if some of them might have wanted to join her in the crescendo, they did not. One had bitten into her shoulder. Another had gripped her breasts so hard they were tender for days after. And of course, one of them had turned her around and been so animal with her that he delighted her no end; except she was too raw for any satiation for a few days and had to content herself with being eaten out.

All of which lay back there in the past, when life was a wild romp in the wilds of the North-East. Those were her hey-days. She was insatiable yet restrained in her voluptuousness. She was raw in her sensuality but she carried it with impeccable social skills. She was never dressed in anything but a saree but she wore it so that the effect on the men around was electric. In the flow of bodies in the cocktail parties many chanced upon her and hoped that tonight would be their night. It never was.

Sheila's eyes were only for virile, stud-like young men who were on transferable jobs. Here today for her and gone tomorrow to make space for the next hors-de-oeuvre. And the men who she had flirted with in those parties and reduced to jelly went home and fucked their wives with an imagination and gusto not seen by the wife in a while.

All of that changed when the kids had to receive a more stable education and she shifted to the South. And she created an island for herself in her room on the top floor. But this was her home town, not some remote plantation town. She could not be her real self. She had fashioned herself into a woman who had harnessed the volcano within her very well. There was unlimited sexual energy but it was channelized with class and style. There was a buzz about her; but not that of a slut. Never.

She was not about to drop standards and style and become a slut. Not Sheila.

And so she withdrew and handled her unbridled and seemingly ageless sexuality differently. One could add it to the list of sacrifices a mother makes for her children. Sexuality ranks right there on the top of the list of sacrifices, unacknowledged, unsung and often unrequited.