Adultery Old Man and Indian Wife by shiprat

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Old Man and Indian Wife Ch. 02

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.

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 schools, 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.