20-03-2019, 03:44 PM
Indian Wife & Construction Guys Ch. 05.4
When I got back, there were more men talking to Sajid, all of them sitting around the yard having tea and snacks. The conversations stopped when I walked in. Their eyes followed me as I entered the hut. The wives were inside the kitchen again. Fatima looked refreshed.
"The slut is back." Shabnam said.
"Let it go." Zahra said this time.
"How can you tell me to let it go Aapa?" Shabnam whined. "You don't know what I have been through back in the city. Seeing this woman lure away our husband."
"You think it was easy for me when you entered the picture?" Zahra said. "Remember that you were once the other woman too."
Shabnam grumbled but didn't say anything. Just as I was about to thank Aapa and ask if I could help in the kitchen, Sajid came inside.
"Memsaab. Come with me."
I followed him to the outer room where he picked up my bag and started rifling through it. I had experienced this enough times at home. He liked picking out revealing outfits for me and then displaying me to his friends. Now his village friends were about to get the same treatment.
Minutes later, I was clad in a tank top that showed lots of cleavage, a short pleated skirt that tended to flare up at the slightest gust of wind or movement, and a thong underneath. Soon four more men were going to be added to the long list of those who would see the tattoo on my ass and either laugh about it or find it kinky.
This activity was one I didn't mind. Well, I didn't mind pretty much anything Sajid did, but this one had tickled my exhibitionist tendencies that I never knew I had. In the initial days, Sajid would do the exposing or revealing and I would act miffed or draw lines. Now I had become like a improv actor in the drama. Without seeming like a stripper or a bar dancer, I enjoyed flashing myself in coy ways and then watch the men get aroused.
"Go bring us some snacks." Sajid patted my ass and stepped out.
There was a plate of kebabs ready. I bent to pick it up and Fatima, squatting by a stove behind, whistled and laughed as the skirt rode up and my ass was in her face. My first instinct was to hold its back down, but then I remembered this was the woman who had licked me ass clean earlier in the day. So there was no point.
"She never wears such things for her husband, you know? When he is home, she is like a sati savitri, fully clothed. Acting so coy and demure. But as soon as his car turns the corner..." Shabnam was ranting.
"Take the onions too." Zahra cut her off.
I walked out with the two plates, feeling that familiar thrill as approached the gawking men. I bent more than necessary in front of each man to serve them. They all got a look down my top as the weight of my bobs made the fabric stretch. And it was obvious to everyone that I was bra-less from the way my hard nipples were poking.
"Something delicious about being served hot kebabs by a hot wife." one of the guys quipped and everyone laughed. The breeze picked a bit and my skirt flared up like an umbrella and everyone oooh-ed at the look of my round ass and the tattoo on it.
The next couple of hours were no different than many such instances back in the city. There were lewd comments, the occasional grope or squeeze, and of course praise for Sajid managing to bag me. Between shuttling food and used plates and cups back and forth, I sat in Sajid's lap as he put his hands under my clothes and the men watched, having their own separate conversations and with obvious hard-ons. In the past, the extent of my exposure depended on Sajid's mood. Sometimes it was just cleavage flashes, other times, I would be told to get topless or bottomless, but never fully nude. This time, maybe because we were outdoors and the kids, sent to play elsewhere, might come home any moment, my clothes were kept on throughout. I still got very wet, which must have been visible to the men from the crotch of my thong.
When I got back, there were more men talking to Sajid, all of them sitting around the yard having tea and snacks. The conversations stopped when I walked in. Their eyes followed me as I entered the hut. The wives were inside the kitchen again. Fatima looked refreshed.
"The slut is back." Shabnam said.
"Let it go." Zahra said this time.
"How can you tell me to let it go Aapa?" Shabnam whined. "You don't know what I have been through back in the city. Seeing this woman lure away our husband."
"You think it was easy for me when you entered the picture?" Zahra said. "Remember that you were once the other woman too."
Shabnam grumbled but didn't say anything. Just as I was about to thank Aapa and ask if I could help in the kitchen, Sajid came inside.
"Memsaab. Come with me."
I followed him to the outer room where he picked up my bag and started rifling through it. I had experienced this enough times at home. He liked picking out revealing outfits for me and then displaying me to his friends. Now his village friends were about to get the same treatment.
Minutes later, I was clad in a tank top that showed lots of cleavage, a short pleated skirt that tended to flare up at the slightest gust of wind or movement, and a thong underneath. Soon four more men were going to be added to the long list of those who would see the tattoo on my ass and either laugh about it or find it kinky.
This activity was one I didn't mind. Well, I didn't mind pretty much anything Sajid did, but this one had tickled my exhibitionist tendencies that I never knew I had. In the initial days, Sajid would do the exposing or revealing and I would act miffed or draw lines. Now I had become like a improv actor in the drama. Without seeming like a stripper or a bar dancer, I enjoyed flashing myself in coy ways and then watch the men get aroused.
"Go bring us some snacks." Sajid patted my ass and stepped out.
There was a plate of kebabs ready. I bent to pick it up and Fatima, squatting by a stove behind, whistled and laughed as the skirt rode up and my ass was in her face. My first instinct was to hold its back down, but then I remembered this was the woman who had licked me ass clean earlier in the day. So there was no point.
"She never wears such things for her husband, you know? When he is home, she is like a sati savitri, fully clothed. Acting so coy and demure. But as soon as his car turns the corner..." Shabnam was ranting.
"Take the onions too." Zahra cut her off.
I walked out with the two plates, feeling that familiar thrill as approached the gawking men. I bent more than necessary in front of each man to serve them. They all got a look down my top as the weight of my bobs made the fabric stretch. And it was obvious to everyone that I was bra-less from the way my hard nipples were poking.
"Something delicious about being served hot kebabs by a hot wife." one of the guys quipped and everyone laughed. The breeze picked a bit and my skirt flared up like an umbrella and everyone oooh-ed at the look of my round ass and the tattoo on it.
The next couple of hours were no different than many such instances back in the city. There were lewd comments, the occasional grope or squeeze, and of course praise for Sajid managing to bag me. Between shuttling food and used plates and cups back and forth, I sat in Sajid's lap as he put his hands under my clothes and the men watched, having their own separate conversations and with obvious hard-ons. In the past, the extent of my exposure depended on Sajid's mood. Sometimes it was just cleavage flashes, other times, I would be told to get topless or bottomless, but never fully nude. This time, maybe because we were outdoors and the kids, sent to play elsewhere, might come home any moment, my clothes were kept on throughout. I still got very wet, which must have been visible to the men from the crotch of my thong.
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