26-05-2019, 10:03 AM
I walked the distance to my house in 15 minutes. As expected the building was busting with activity as every evening. I walked up the stairs to the third floor apartment, keeping a really straight face and even greeting anyone I met. As soon as I closed the house door I dropped on the couch and started crying, digging my face into the pillow.
"What am I going to do now? What if the person from the bus finds me? What if the TC blackmails me? Should I talk to my husband about this? He won't trust me anymore. What if my daughter comes to know about it? She will think I'm a slut."
These were the thoughts in my mind as I walked up to my bedroom and entered the bathroom. I removed my clothes and stood under the hot shower. I kept crying as I rubbed my body vigorously with soap, cleaning every part of my body touched by various men. And then I washed my panty vigorously even as the tears kept rolling down my cheeks.
After I turned off the shower, I looked at myself in the mirror and composed myself. Then I wiped myself with the towel and came out to the bedroom with the towel wrapped around my body.
--
The good part about our bedroom is it has long sliding windows on two sides, one overlooking the garden behind our building and the other facing the bedroom of our neighbors. This gives a feeling of openness to the room. Also we have tinted glass put up on all the windows, ensuring our privacy. I walked up to my cupboard and took out my clothes and threw them on the bed. As I was about to remove my towel, I saw a figure sitting at the opposite window. I recognized it to be Mr. Patel, our 65-year-old neighbor. He could, may be see the outline of my body even through the tinted glass as the lights were on. So I reached out for the switchboard and switched off the light. This came as no surprise to me. I had seen him staring at our window many times before. In the darkness, I threw my towel on the bed and wore my clothes, thinking of how many times I had told my husband about the bastard. But my husband never believed how such a respected resident could do such a thing.
Mr. Patel was a retired security officer officer and now worked as a social worker, especially fighting for women's rights. He lived in the house alone after his wife died and daughter got married. I too knew that nobody would believe me if I said that he was a voyeur and a peeping tom. I had no option but to ignore him. I wore a simple white cotton panty (I wore the bikini panties outside only on my husband's insistence, though I felt really comfortable in these). Over it I wore a white loose slip with thin shoulder straps and came up to my upper thighs (I never wore bras at home). And finally wore a long white housecoat tying up the waistband.
It was almost 8:00 p.m. so I decided to cook myself a small meal and watch some TV. But just then the doorbell rang. I was a bit surprised, as I was not expecting anyone. I was really surprised to find my husband standing at the door. He immediately hugged me and gave me a small kiss on the lips, and then explained how he arrived earlier than expected. As I was making tea for him, he hugged me from behind and squeezed my breasts. He ran his hands through my wet hair and turned around my face and smooched me passionately, with his hands running down to my waistband.
I knew he was really horny. He did not have sex for 3 days now. When at home he fucked me every single night. He undid the waistband and opened the robe. His hand palmed my crotch as he continued to kiss my neck. Soon he had his hand inside my slip, pinching my nipples. He then made me sit on the kitchen platform and pulled out my panty. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he pulled out his erect tool and entered me. In less than a minute, he erupted in me and I too let out a loud grunt, faking an orgasm. Immediately he withdrew and said the lovely words, "get me the tea quickly."
At this point let me describe to you my husband. He is as you can say a typical Indian male. He really cares for me and is very understanding in all matters but sex. He believes that a wife must do whatever a husband wants in bed. When my in-laws were alive, they too held the same belief. During the first year of our marriage, my husband used to fuck me at least twice daily. It would be really embarrassing for me when he would call me up to the bedroom in the middle of the day and have sex with me, even as his parents sat in the other room knowing what transpired in our room.
Even after 20 years of marriage, he still is the same. When I confronted him with my inability to reach an orgasm regularly, he got angry and said that I was trying to blame on him for my inability to get excited and asked me to masturbate whenever I did not climax. Since that day I have been doing the same. He rolls over to sleep immediately after sex. It is then that I go to the bathroom and rub myself. Also he likes to consider me like a showpiece, which he takes along to parties. He has a personally selected collection of clothes for me to be worn at such parties. His attitude at such cocktail parties is: "I have the thing you all want".
I do not like this but have to bear it. Coming back, after he left the kitchen, I wore my panty and adjusted the slip, tucking in my tits and then served him tea.
"What am I going to do now? What if the person from the bus finds me? What if the TC blackmails me? Should I talk to my husband about this? He won't trust me anymore. What if my daughter comes to know about it? She will think I'm a slut."
These were the thoughts in my mind as I walked up to my bedroom and entered the bathroom. I removed my clothes and stood under the hot shower. I kept crying as I rubbed my body vigorously with soap, cleaning every part of my body touched by various men. And then I washed my panty vigorously even as the tears kept rolling down my cheeks.
After I turned off the shower, I looked at myself in the mirror and composed myself. Then I wiped myself with the towel and came out to the bedroom with the towel wrapped around my body.
--
The good part about our bedroom is it has long sliding windows on two sides, one overlooking the garden behind our building and the other facing the bedroom of our neighbors. This gives a feeling of openness to the room. Also we have tinted glass put up on all the windows, ensuring our privacy. I walked up to my cupboard and took out my clothes and threw them on the bed. As I was about to remove my towel, I saw a figure sitting at the opposite window. I recognized it to be Mr. Patel, our 65-year-old neighbor. He could, may be see the outline of my body even through the tinted glass as the lights were on. So I reached out for the switchboard and switched off the light. This came as no surprise to me. I had seen him staring at our window many times before. In the darkness, I threw my towel on the bed and wore my clothes, thinking of how many times I had told my husband about the bastard. But my husband never believed how such a respected resident could do such a thing.
Mr. Patel was a retired security officer officer and now worked as a social worker, especially fighting for women's rights. He lived in the house alone after his wife died and daughter got married. I too knew that nobody would believe me if I said that he was a voyeur and a peeping tom. I had no option but to ignore him. I wore a simple white cotton panty (I wore the bikini panties outside only on my husband's insistence, though I felt really comfortable in these). Over it I wore a white loose slip with thin shoulder straps and came up to my upper thighs (I never wore bras at home). And finally wore a long white housecoat tying up the waistband.
It was almost 8:00 p.m. so I decided to cook myself a small meal and watch some TV. But just then the doorbell rang. I was a bit surprised, as I was not expecting anyone. I was really surprised to find my husband standing at the door. He immediately hugged me and gave me a small kiss on the lips, and then explained how he arrived earlier than expected. As I was making tea for him, he hugged me from behind and squeezed my breasts. He ran his hands through my wet hair and turned around my face and smooched me passionately, with his hands running down to my waistband.
I knew he was really horny. He did not have sex for 3 days now. When at home he fucked me every single night. He undid the waistband and opened the robe. His hand palmed my crotch as he continued to kiss my neck. Soon he had his hand inside my slip, pinching my nipples. He then made me sit on the kitchen platform and pulled out my panty. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he pulled out his erect tool and entered me. In less than a minute, he erupted in me and I too let out a loud grunt, faking an orgasm. Immediately he withdrew and said the lovely words, "get me the tea quickly."
At this point let me describe to you my husband. He is as you can say a typical Indian male. He really cares for me and is very understanding in all matters but sex. He believes that a wife must do whatever a husband wants in bed. When my in-laws were alive, they too held the same belief. During the first year of our marriage, my husband used to fuck me at least twice daily. It would be really embarrassing for me when he would call me up to the bedroom in the middle of the day and have sex with me, even as his parents sat in the other room knowing what transpired in our room.
Even after 20 years of marriage, he still is the same. When I confronted him with my inability to reach an orgasm regularly, he got angry and said that I was trying to blame on him for my inability to get excited and asked me to masturbate whenever I did not climax. Since that day I have been doing the same. He rolls over to sleep immediately after sex. It is then that I go to the bathroom and rub myself. Also he likes to consider me like a showpiece, which he takes along to parties. He has a personally selected collection of clothes for me to be worn at such parties. His attitude at such cocktail parties is: "I have the thing you all want".
I do not like this but have to bear it. Coming back, after he left the kitchen, I wore my panty and adjusted the slip, tucking in my tits and then served him tea.
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