Adultery Who Watches The Watchmen? by aurelius1982

[Ramesh_Rocky]

It was one of just a couple of full length household gowns she owned. A lot of women preferred them in the Bombay heat. They covered everything, providing modesty, while also being loose and thin enough to not make women sweat. Menaka always said she hated them because they seemed very old-fashioned and "aunty"like. But here she was, wearing a blue gown.

I had a guess about her rationale. She was still feeling resentful and maybe even shy enough to not be on display after such a long time spent naked or near naked. There was a distinct possibility that someone might ring the bell - a salesman or delivery boy. The gown kept her respectable. At the same time, it was easy enough to just slip off if things got hot and heavy with Dara again. very practical.

Meanwhile in the bathroom, Dara and Vimla were making out naked like horny teenagers. They kept soaping each other and washing it off, relishing the feeling of a shower. Both were too poor to have access to showers otherwise.

Menaka got dressed, straightened her hair and tied it in a bun, and then looking distinctly housewifely, walked out of the bedroom. She stopped by the bathroom for a second, only to overhear the watchman and the maid giggling with each other. And then she went to the kitchen. And started cooking, as ordered by Dara.

Menaka slaved in the kitchen, remaking tea and roasting parathas. Meanwhile in the bathroom, Dara was down on his knees, going down on Vimla as the skinny maid stood under the water. He kept going on and on, bringing her to orgasm after orgasm.

After about fifteen minutes, Menaka got done cooking and carried the food and the tea to the dining table. She looked annoyed that her first extra marital lover and first lesbian lover were still in the bathroom. She went to the door and rapped on it hard while Vimla in the middle of another orgasm.

"Coming!" Dara yelled, over the sound of Vimla's loud groans.

Finally the two of them walked out, drying their bodies with our towels. Dara still looked like he owned the place. Vimla also had a spring in her stride, probably the result of all the orgasms.

"You can get dressed." Dara said to Vimla. She did as was told, but Dara himself, only slipped on his boxer shorts. Menaka looked meaningfully at her lover as he took a seat at the table so scantily clad.

"Smells delicious!" Dara said, reaching for a paratha.

Vimla looked a little uncertain. She picked up her plate but was just standing there. Dara looked at her with his eyebrows raised.

"Should I...sit on the floor?" she nervously asked, looking at Dara and Menaka turn by turn. The question was understandable. In India, domestic help is expected to sit on the floor, not on the furniture.

"It's okay." Menaka grudgingly said, taking a seat opposite Dara.

"Sit on the chair." Dara said, and then chuckling, added, "She was on top of you for so long while she got fucked. I am sure she won't mind you sitting on her precious chairs."

Both ladies blushed at the recollection of the vulgar threesome they had experienced with him.

The three of them starting eating hungrily. Clearly they had built up an appetite after all the sexual exercise. It was such a bizarre sight I was looking at, one that would have been unimaginable just weeks ago. My wife was sitting meekly at our dining table, being treated on par with a lowly maid. And sitting in the chair I usually sat in, wearing just his undies, was this old gurkha watchman, who probably earned less in a year than I did in a week. And yet he was in command of the situation while I sat spying on all this just a couple of minutes away.