10-09-2022, 08:36 PM
I watched in horror as Alan pulled my wife into a clumsy embrace and the two of them started gently swaying to the music. Alan started off placing his hands on the small of her back, but then gradually slid them downwards. Until both his hands were on her shapely butt. He then started gentle kneading her butt, without any resistance from her. I looked around and saw a few people around them snickering and pointing. Even in Vegas, watching such a clumsily dressed old codger feeling up an exquisite beauty like my wife wasn't a common scene.
I watched with disgust, but also with a sense of vindication. This dirty old man was skillfully putting the moves on my wife. Right in front of me. And she was doing nothing to stop him. Obviously, I had been correct in my suspicions about Jeff and the other guys. If she let this old sack of dough go this far, who knows what she had done with Jeff when I was away? I felt my ears burn in anger as I watched them. Finally the dance came to an end. And the two of them started walking back to the table.
When Shipra took her seat, she looked into my eyes with a defiant expression. I was doing nothing to hide my rage. But it didn't seem to bother her. She looked away. I then looked at Alan. As he sat down, I almost spat out my drink in shock. There was a huge tent in his pants. He was sporting a rather substantial erection. And, it dawned on me, this beast of an erection had obviously been rubbing against my wife when they slow danced. Or maybe it was a result of their slow dance.
The three of us sat wordlessly sipping at what remained of the last of our drinks. The waiter came back with the credit card slip and I signed it. Alan looked at me and smirked, as if to say - "I was going to take you two to dinner, and instead you're paying while I rubbed my dick against your wife." I looked away from him towards Shipra who now wore a look that was all too familiar to me. After many a night on town, when we got home, she would sport this look - that of being drunk as well as being horny. Alan's monster erection rubbing against her had clearly had an effect.
Alan must have noticed it too, because I sensed a movement of his hand. And when I followed it, I saw it was headed towards his thigh again. Except this time, he didn't stop at just rubbing her thigh. It disappeared under her skirt. I looked up at Shipra who had now closed her eyes and had tilted her head back a little. Slowly her lips parted and I saw another familiar look. And alarm bells started going off in my head.
I realized that just a couple of feet away from me, Alan was fingering my wife. Was he doing it over her panties? Or had he slipped his finger inside? There was no way for me to know. What I did know was, I was at a crossroads. Either I get up, throw a fit, and kick this old man's ass. Or I continue to be what I had been until then. A silent accomplice.
I don't what what made me opt for the second option. Maybe I was getting turned on by this ugly old man handling my wife like putty. But at that moment, I rationalized my non-action by telling myself, it's up to her to stop him. If she wants to prove me wrong and show me as a jealous paranoid husband, she should do something. I didn't realzie though that Shipra was probably too drunk to think straight.
Alan noticed that I had noticed, and flashed me a triumphant smile. He then poked her thigh with his other hand, and she parted her legs even more, providing him better access to her cunt. Shipra's face now wore an overtly sexual look. her eyes were now half open, but she didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular. Her nipples were obviously erect because they were poking through even her bra and top. Her face had gone all red. And she seemed to be breathing heavily.
This scene lasted five minutes or so, until the band stopped playing and there was a minute of silence. Alan took his hand out from under Shipra's skirt. Shipra let out an audible moan of disappointment. Her eyes opened completely and met mine. She looked away in shame. I wondered if she would end it now. But it wasn't in her hands.
Alan got up. His erection seemed to have subsided by now. He said to me very matter-of-factly,
"I am taking her to my suite back at the Venetian. You can come along too if you want."
I tried to search for words, but couldn't come up with any. Alan held out his hand for Shipra. I expected her to take it. But instead, she was looking at me.
"Pavan." she said in a breathless voice.
"Hmm?" I said.
"What should I do?" there was a plaintive tone of genuine conflict in her voice. Looking back, I now know that was the last chance I had to put an end to the depravity. I just stared at her.
"What should I do, Pavan?" she asked, once more in that gut-wrenching voice.
A dozen different sentences sprung up in my head. "Don't go." "Let's go back to our room." "Leave this old fart here." "Stop the madness."
I didn't say any of them. I just shrugged. Shipra exhaled loudly. Alan was still holding his hand out for her. She took it and got up. Alan put his hand around my wife's waist and led her away. I got up and followed them, as if in a slumber.
I walked behind Alan and Shipra as we left the restaurant and went back to the Venetian. I followed them into the elevator. Alan slid his key and pushed the button for the top floor. once the elevator door closed, he stood there, again kneading her butt. The elevator reached his floor and we walked to the suite.
Alan led us to the "living room" of the suite and turned on just one small lamp. The room was mostly dark, with just the one lamp illuminating it. Alan headed to the minibar and poured three scotches, without ice. He handed one to Shipra and another to me. Shipra took her drink and sat down on the small couch. She took a sip and then looked at me, with a petrified expression. Again, she seemed to be crying out for help. For me to rescue her. But I felt helpless. I sat down on a chair across from her. Alan took his glass and sat down next to her.
Alan then reached for the remote and turned the TV on. He turned it to one of the movie channels, and sat there, with his hands around Shipra, who seemed like she would run out of the room at any moment. We all sat there staring at the TV. Even Alan, for the first time ever, seemed a bit nervous.
About ten minutes later, I noticed some movement. I saw Alan pick up Shipra's hand and put it on his crotch which now had that massive bulge again. I looked away towards the TV. A few moments later when I looked back at them, there it was. Alan's dick. I am not sure how big it exactly was, but it was a hell of a lot bigger than mine. And thicker. It was standing up from his open pants like a flagpole. And wrapped around it were my wife's elegant fingers. She was gradually stroking his dick, from the base to where the thick bulbous head protruded.
I watched with disgust, but also with a sense of vindication. This dirty old man was skillfully putting the moves on my wife. Right in front of me. And she was doing nothing to stop him. Obviously, I had been correct in my suspicions about Jeff and the other guys. If she let this old sack of dough go this far, who knows what she had done with Jeff when I was away? I felt my ears burn in anger as I watched them. Finally the dance came to an end. And the two of them started walking back to the table.
When Shipra took her seat, she looked into my eyes with a defiant expression. I was doing nothing to hide my rage. But it didn't seem to bother her. She looked away. I then looked at Alan. As he sat down, I almost spat out my drink in shock. There was a huge tent in his pants. He was sporting a rather substantial erection. And, it dawned on me, this beast of an erection had obviously been rubbing against my wife when they slow danced. Or maybe it was a result of their slow dance.
The three of us sat wordlessly sipping at what remained of the last of our drinks. The waiter came back with the credit card slip and I signed it. Alan looked at me and smirked, as if to say - "I was going to take you two to dinner, and instead you're paying while I rubbed my dick against your wife." I looked away from him towards Shipra who now wore a look that was all too familiar to me. After many a night on town, when we got home, she would sport this look - that of being drunk as well as being horny. Alan's monster erection rubbing against her had clearly had an effect.
Alan must have noticed it too, because I sensed a movement of his hand. And when I followed it, I saw it was headed towards his thigh again. Except this time, he didn't stop at just rubbing her thigh. It disappeared under her skirt. I looked up at Shipra who had now closed her eyes and had tilted her head back a little. Slowly her lips parted and I saw another familiar look. And alarm bells started going off in my head.
I realized that just a couple of feet away from me, Alan was fingering my wife. Was he doing it over her panties? Or had he slipped his finger inside? There was no way for me to know. What I did know was, I was at a crossroads. Either I get up, throw a fit, and kick this old man's ass. Or I continue to be what I had been until then. A silent accomplice.
I don't what what made me opt for the second option. Maybe I was getting turned on by this ugly old man handling my wife like putty. But at that moment, I rationalized my non-action by telling myself, it's up to her to stop him. If she wants to prove me wrong and show me as a jealous paranoid husband, she should do something. I didn't realzie though that Shipra was probably too drunk to think straight.
Alan noticed that I had noticed, and flashed me a triumphant smile. He then poked her thigh with his other hand, and she parted her legs even more, providing him better access to her cunt. Shipra's face now wore an overtly sexual look. her eyes were now half open, but she didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular. Her nipples were obviously erect because they were poking through even her bra and top. Her face had gone all red. And she seemed to be breathing heavily.
This scene lasted five minutes or so, until the band stopped playing and there was a minute of silence. Alan took his hand out from under Shipra's skirt. Shipra let out an audible moan of disappointment. Her eyes opened completely and met mine. She looked away in shame. I wondered if she would end it now. But it wasn't in her hands.
Alan got up. His erection seemed to have subsided by now. He said to me very matter-of-factly,
"I am taking her to my suite back at the Venetian. You can come along too if you want."
I tried to search for words, but couldn't come up with any. Alan held out his hand for Shipra. I expected her to take it. But instead, she was looking at me.
"Pavan." she said in a breathless voice.
"Hmm?" I said.
"What should I do?" there was a plaintive tone of genuine conflict in her voice. Looking back, I now know that was the last chance I had to put an end to the depravity. I just stared at her.
"What should I do, Pavan?" she asked, once more in that gut-wrenching voice.
A dozen different sentences sprung up in my head. "Don't go." "Let's go back to our room." "Leave this old fart here." "Stop the madness."
I didn't say any of them. I just shrugged. Shipra exhaled loudly. Alan was still holding his hand out for her. She took it and got up. Alan put his hand around my wife's waist and led her away. I got up and followed them, as if in a slumber.
I walked behind Alan and Shipra as we left the restaurant and went back to the Venetian. I followed them into the elevator. Alan slid his key and pushed the button for the top floor. once the elevator door closed, he stood there, again kneading her butt. The elevator reached his floor and we walked to the suite.
Alan led us to the "living room" of the suite and turned on just one small lamp. The room was mostly dark, with just the one lamp illuminating it. Alan headed to the minibar and poured three scotches, without ice. He handed one to Shipra and another to me. Shipra took her drink and sat down on the small couch. She took a sip and then looked at me, with a petrified expression. Again, she seemed to be crying out for help. For me to rescue her. But I felt helpless. I sat down on a chair across from her. Alan took his glass and sat down next to her.
Alan then reached for the remote and turned the TV on. He turned it to one of the movie channels, and sat there, with his hands around Shipra, who seemed like she would run out of the room at any moment. We all sat there staring at the TV. Even Alan, for the first time ever, seemed a bit nervous.
About ten minutes later, I noticed some movement. I saw Alan pick up Shipra's hand and put it on his crotch which now had that massive bulge again. I looked away towards the TV. A few moments later when I looked back at them, there it was. Alan's dick. I am not sure how big it exactly was, but it was a hell of a lot bigger than mine. And thicker. It was standing up from his open pants like a flagpole. And wrapped around it were my wife's elegant fingers. She was gradually stroking his dick, from the base to where the thick bulbous head protruded.
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