My Wife's Experiences with our servant

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"Honey! Babe! Darling!" My wife Neetu looked at me with her beautiful big eyes wide open. Her face indicated she was serious. Even though we were now in bed, and the lamp was still turned on, and I could see a curious look in her eyes.

"Yes, dear?" I tried to smile.

"There's something bugging you." Neetu snuggled closer to me. "All day long I have noticed it. Now that Sahil is asleep, you can tell me what is on your mind."

She pressed her lips against my cheeks and then my lips, kissing me hard.

SMOOCH!

"Ah... nothing, darling." I lied. I knew I would have to talk about this sooner or later but right at that moment I didn't want to. Neetu, however, wasn't going to back down.

SMOOCH!

"There IS something." She said, kissing me again. My wife was now rubbing her whole body against me, and her left hand had already made its way inside my boxers. My nuts were now in her hands, her fingers deftly stroking my rapidly hardening manhood.

"My love! It's nothing really." I tried to reason, but Neetu wasn't listening. She was fumbling with my boxers and the small buttons, and suddenly my cock sprang free. Neetu expertly grasped my penis and started to stroke it.

"You are going to get a Neetu special today." Neetu grinned at me, while stroking my penis. "What every man wants. A blowjob from Neetu."

I could no longer hold myself. I was like putty in my wife's expert hands.

"My love ... I ..." I was mumbling. "There is a wedding ... my Tau's daughter ... my cousin Rashmika ... in the village ... end of December."

Neetu looked at me with a triumphant grin, and then expertly flicked my cock with her tongue.

"I thought so! Go on." She nodded, her voice in a commanding tone. She then put her tongue on my balls and slowly started to kiss them. I was in heaven. It has been a while since Neetu had given me a blowjob.

"My dear." I croaked, as Neetu opened her mouth wide and slowly started to take my cock in. "I know we have avoided going to our village in these last seven years, but ... my family ... is insisting ... we attend ... my ... cousin's ... wedding."

Neetu did not say anything. Her hands had wrapped around my hips, and one of her fingers went in my ass, as I drove my cock even deeper into her mouth. Her tongue was dancing on my shaft, and of course I knew could not hold out for long.

My wife Neetu knew exactly how to trigger me, and she also knew how I wanted a blowjob to end. As she continued to suck on my dick, one finger was in my asshole, while the other was expertly caressing my balls.

I surrendered to my sensations. As a man, and as the husband of a vivacious wife like Neetu, I wanted to last long, but Neetu gave me no chance. She mercilessly kept touching my balls with the tip of one finger, while the other played with my asshole, and her tongue and lips gnawed on my pecker.

"Oh dear." I muttered, as within two minutes my hips began to buckle, as I started to helplessly ejaculate inside my hungry wife's mouth. Neetu kept her finger firmly on my ass, her throat muscles working continuously as she swallowed my whole load, her nose almost brushing against my pubic hair. Finally, she pulled my cock out of her mouth and took a deep breath. She had a smile on her face, like the cat that ate the canary, and yet there was not a drop of cum on her lips. My slutty wife had not only made me cum within two minutes, but also swallowed every drop of my cum.

"Was that so hard, my love?" She asked as she licked her lips, and then kissed my penis. "Are you that worried about me reacting to having to finally go to your ancestral village, that you needed a blowjob to ... pardon the pun ... spill the beans?"

"Oh boy." I was still exhausted and catching my breath. I loved my wife. "That was ... wow. Thank you, babe."

"You don't need to thank me!" Neetu grinned and kissed my now gradually softening penis. "You are my husband. I love you. And I love this little dick of yours."

"Little dick". It had been sometime since she had used that phrase. Almost six and half years.

Almost as if she knew what this meant.

I looked at Neetu. She had a sly grin on her face, even as she gently touched my penis.

There was no other way to say it - my wife Neetu, despite her age, was still a beautiful curvaceous woman. Neetu had become pregnant when she was thirty-three, and now our son Sahil was six years old, and Neetu a forty-year-old woman. Yet, if you didn't know this, and ignored the two gray hairs she had, you would guess she was still in her thirties.

Neetu had put on a few pounds since her pregnancy, but it made her more alluring in my eyes. Yes, there was some love handles, but Neetu always wore her sari, showing her belly and her waist, which only made her love handles even more attractive. I just wanted to kiss and suck on her waist and tummy all day long.

Some of the weight had gone to her buttocks, making them slightly more protruding. Her sari always clung firmly to her ass, and I could not help myself but spank her on her plump buttocks every time she walked past me. She did pretend to be offended and always chastised me, but I knew she liked it.

As she did seven years ago when someone else did it to her all the time.

My wife's breasts seemed to have grown a size larger since she had become a mother, which gave her now a busty look. Neetu however still maintained a regular exercise regime, with morning yoga, and followed a proper diet. That meant that despite the increase in pounds and her buttocks, she still had a svelte vivacious figure with big breasts, and hips gradually widening leading to nice looking buttocks that jiggled with every step she took. She was the proper sexy Indian aunty that you would love to take to bed - what I call the "Mrs. Jenny Kakkar" look.

Of all the mothers who dropped their kids off to college in the morning, it was my wife who still managed to turn heads every time she walked. Every sway of her big ass and every bounce of her big jiggling boobs attracted hungry attention from desperate men eager to check out her svelte figure, even if she was fully clothed in a winter jacket. Fathers, teachers, janitors, drivers, engineers - they all lusted after Neetu. I have seen many a man involuntarily turning to ogle, almost by reflex, when my wife walked past them.

Even though ours was an arranged marriage, I only had one thought when I first saw Neetu - I wanted to fuck her. Even when she was a young woman, she had that "Oh Sir please do me now look". And now, as a forty-year-old woman and a mother, that look was only amplified. Every time I thought of my wife, I wanted to bang her.

And we fucked often. Neetu was a dutiful wife, and she treated it as her religious obligation to indulge me whenever I wanted sex. Just like now ... she went ahead with a blowjob. Which Indian wife would do this?

Sometimes I wondered what Neetu really thought of me now.

I was ten years older than her and had just celebrated my fiftieth birthday recently. I had a more pronounced pot belly than before, and my hair was gradually thinning. Sometimes when we went to restaurants, Neetu was often mistaken as my daughter, even though we are only ten years apart. I tried to do yoga with her, or stick to her diet, but found it tough.

I am what I am. Her fat, older, husband who loved every bit, every pound, of her.

As Neetu snuggled to me and we both laid back on the bed, she caressed my chest.

"My love." She spoke softly, her hand on my belly. "We always knew we had to return to that village one day. After all, how long can we make excuses?"

I knew she was right. When Sahil was born, it was understood we wouldn't go to the village because he was a young baby who could get sick. As he grew up, we made my work and the long distance an excuse, especially after we moved to Canada. But now it was winter holidays, with Christmas and New Year, and my office was closed for three weeks. Sahil was six years and healthy. It was pleasant weather in our South Indian village, not too hot or too cold, and there was no excuse for not attending the wedding of my cousin Rashmika, the daughter of my father's older brother. The whole family would be there, and as Rashmika's oldest cousin, I was expected to be there as well.

"Do you think he will be there?" Neetu asked me.

He could only be one man. The main reason we had avoided visiting our village for the last seven years.

Seven years ago, when we lived in India, we lived in a big two storey detached house in the suburbs. We had a manservant called Bhola who had been with us for more than three years, and he lived in his own room downstairs. Seven years ago, when Bhola was just a twenty-two-year-old lad, and he and my wife Neetu began a torrid and passionate steamy love affair that lasted for five months.

For those five months, almost every other night, my wife Neetu would make her way downstairs to our servant Bhola's room and ardently get bonked by him for almost two to three hours straight. And on most of those nights I would be there, unknown to my wife and her well hung lover, watching the two have sex, standing outside the house like a loser, peeping in through a small crack on Bhola's window. I would masturbate watching my own wife and my lowly servant make love. I should be mad at the situation, but watching my young wife service her well hung lover's cock was a huge turn on. I was taking care of my own cock while my high-class wife was taking care of a low-class man's cock ... several times.

I had to admit - Bhola was God's gift to women. In addition to my wife, he had successfully seduced and gone to bed with several other married women in our colony. When Mrs. Jyoti Gill's husband was in Dubai for one year, our servant Bhola was soon fucking the young and horny Mrs. Gill in the afternoons. When our neighbour Nausheen's husband had a stint in Kuwait, she too succumbed to Bhola's cock. In fact, Nausheen's son who was born sometime later was of a different complexion than both of his parents, and I suspect that Bhola was the true father. In all, from my knowledge, my servant Bhola had apparently seduced and fucked seven women in that colony.

My wife became the eighth, and the one with whom he had the longest affair, and the woman he fucked the greatest number of times. It was easy since he lived with us, and my wife was his Malkin, so he had easy access to her. He fucked Neetu in his own bed in his room, and then later in our kitchen, and then in the dining room, and on some rare occasions when I was away ... on our own marital bed. In fact, I think he had fucked my wife in every room in our house.

Bhola certainly had a talent - he was hung like a horse, he had incredible stamina, and he very much enjoyed fucking another man's wife, especially in her own house. It wasn't just his giant of a cock, but the fact that he knew what to do with it. Women, especially other men's wives, were like putty in his expert hands.

His sex sessions with my wife were wild, loud, passionate, and rough. He would play with Neetu the way a violinist plays with his instrument. He was insatiable, getting ready to go again merely ten minutes after ejaculating. By the time he was done, Neetu was a helpless wet mess, progressing from orgasm to orgasm, and desperately waiting for yet another fuck from the servant. In one night, he would fuck Neetu 5 or 6 times, regularly giving my wife 2-3 orgasms for each one he unloaded in Neetu's pussy or mouth. And many times, her ass. Neetu never liked getting fucked in the butt, but she had no restrictions with Bhola.

There was one thing, however, that was different about Bhola's affair with my wife, and all his other affairs with other wives.

Unknown to Bhola was the fact that Neetu and I had carefully planned this little affair of hers. Yes! My wife was cuckolding me with my full knowledge and permission. We needed a donor sperm to get my wife pregnant since my own swimmers weren't up to the task. I was dutifully handing my own wife over to another man to be impregnated.

This is why just past midnight, every other night, Neetu would freshen up, put on a fresh lingerie, fresh underwear, and then give me a kiss.

"I am off to get pregnant, darling." She would say, laughing a bit, before leaving the room. I would allow her a few minutes, before I too would sneak out. And then stand outside my servant's window, watching him completely ravage my hapless wife for the next couple of hours. In some ways it was pathetic of me; I was standing outside in a puddle of my own cum, watching a lowly servant use my wife as a sex toy to fulfill his deepest and most perverted sexual fantasies. And mine.

For those of you who had cuckold fantasies - and I was one - it can be surreal when your wife is finally having sex with another man. For me, it seemed to happen so fast. It seems like a minute ago Neetu and I were talking about a sperm donation the natural way and within a short amount of time, I am standing outside my house watching him confidently mounting my wife. The first time I watched as his manly cock entered her and Neetu began moaning to his virility is forever etched into my brain. Neetu never screamed like that with me, and I know she never will.

Bhola simply did whatever he wanted with my wife. Neetu would not say no. She was up for anything, so enamoured she was with him - and his cock. Bhola would regularly fuck her in the butt, and then Neetu even cleaned his cock with her mouth after he came in her ass! Bhola would even slap her, hard, on her face, making her cheeks red, and Neetu would let him and then show him the other cheek! By the end of their affair Bhola was slapping her quite often.

Despite the promise of being completely honest with me about her affair, Neetu kept certain things from me. For example, she never shared the fact with me that Bhola regularly slapped her, in fact, and slapped her hard.

Bhola would also spank her roughly on her fleshy buttocks, making them crimson red, and she would remain bent over, allowing him to spank her again and again. Bhola would call her names, like randi, slut, and others, and Neetu was up for it. Even this she never told me - of how he spanked her - but I have seen that she would let him do anything - anything - even share her with a friend of his.

One night, Bhola and his friend Bashir the guard basically used my wife like a sex toy. For over three hours, they took turns to roughly bonk my wife, cum in her mouth, or even double penetrate her. Whatever they wanted to do to Neetu, they did, and she let them completely have their way with her. She was their whore. So dominant were they that after they were done, they sent her back to bed completely naked, keeping her clothes as some sort of souvenirs. Neetu had to crawl upstairs to our bedroom fully in the nude.

That was the last time Bhola had fucked Neetu. Bhola and Neetu's affair lasted five months. The morning after, Neetu announced to me that she was pregnant. And then, of course, Neetu and I carried out the second part of our plan.

That very morning of the day we found out about Neetu's pregnancy, I immediately fired Bhola. I did not even give him a full day, but just a few hours, to get out of my house and return to the village. I did give him three months extra salary, and Bhola departed that very same day. He had no knowledge that Neetu had stopped taking birth control pills and was now carrying his child.

Neetu moved in temporarily with my mother-in-law Neelam, and she was there for the first trimester. In the meantime, I sold off our house and bought another place close to my office. I worked mostly from home, but on the days that I had to get to work, the commute was now much better. This also allowed us to cut ties from our old colony, and any women who may also have had affairs with Bhola. It also stopped us from seeing Bashir the guard. As for our former neighbors, we hardly kept in touch.

Neetu and I were now fully devoted parents to be. When Sahil was born nine months later, we had pretty much forgotten Bhola, Bashir and the whole saga. The one thing we didn't want to do was return for any visit to our ancestral village.

You see, Bhola was from my village. In fact, his family was distantly related to ours. It was my mother who had first asked me if I could employ Bhola, when he was just 19 years of age, since his family had lost everything due to a flood, and whatever income Bhola could send back home would help them. It was perfect timing - we also needed a servant, and I told my mother I can employ Bhola for a year. He could live with us.

That one year became two years, and then three - and then Bhola and Neetu had their affair. Soon after Neetu's pregnancy and our move, I got a job in Ottawa, Canada, and it was too good of an offer to refuse. Sahil was one year old when we immigrated to Canada from India.

I was on work permit for a year, and then we applied to become permanent residents of Canada. Just last year we all took our citizenship oath - we were now Canadians.

Ever since we had moved to Canada, we had somehow managed to avoid returning to our village, since there was a chance, we could run into Bhola. Whenever we visited India from Canada, we always stayed in Chennai, and I booked some hotels or resorts where my parents, or Neetu's mother, could join us. I also had the grandparents come over to Ottawa to spend time with their grandson on long visit visas. Thus, there wasn't any pressure on us to visit our ancestral village.

However now there was a wedding, and the whole family (my side) would be there. We simply had no excuse to avoid the visit.

"Do you think he will be there?" Neetu repeated. I took a deep breath.

"He will probably be there." I reasoned. "He is family, however distant, and on weddings you invite all the relatives, especially the poor ones. Bhola's parents are too old to travel, but I am sure Tauji will invite Bhola and his younger brother Bunty."

"Bhola has a brother?"

"Yes. Bunty must be what ... like ... 23 now. And Bhola must be ... 29. Or thirty."

"Hmm." Neetu didn't say anything much. I am sure she was thinking about what had happened seven years ago between her and Bhola.

"Why did you wait this long to tell me?" Neetu finally asked. "I mean, it's already November, and our December holidays start in a month. Tickets will be expensive now."

"I know." I admitted. "I was trying to think of an excuse, or something. But today Papa called me and said Tauji would mind terribly if we didn't come."

"Hmm." Neetu once again snuggled close to me and kissed my neck, while slowly shutting her eyes and relaxing. "I guess we can go. It's been nearly seven years after all. Is it because of Bhola that you were hesitating?"

"Yes." I was honest. "Do I want to run into the man who had wild animal sex with my own wife in every room of my own house for five months? Not really."

Neetu laughed and stroked my chest again. Her hands then went towards my manhood.

"You are getting hard just thinking about it, my love." She stated.

"If we do run into him, what will you do?" I asked, ignoring her statement and the truth it contained. "I am sure he must ... I mean I would ... he must want to pick things up ... from where they had ended. Will you again sleep with him?"

"Hmm ... darling. How crude you are!" Neetu answered lazily, fingering my balls. "Do you have any faith in your wife, babe? I am not some whore of Baylon. As you yourself admitted, I was getting the fucking of my life every night. I gave that ALL up so I can have a kid and family, with YOU."

"I know, my love." I kissed my wife. That much was true.

"Then again ..." Neetu naughtily continued. "If you think Sahil now deserves a brother or a sister, I could cuckold you again ..."

I kissed my wife on her lips. I don't know why I did that then. Suddenly the talk was too erotic, and I felt I had to kiss her.

"My dear wife." I told Neetu. "You know I love you so much."

My wife, somewhat surprised with my sudden declaration of love, kissed me back.

"Yes, my love." She replied, and then added, "So ... do you we should try for a second kid? After all, Bhola may be there ... and I know you would love being a cuckold again. You ... with your little penis!"

We fucked again.

It was a wild, passionate, steamy fuck that left us breathless at the end. There was also no doubt as to why we fucked. All though the sex Neetu was teasing me about doing it with Bhola. Again.

Later, as my wife drifted off slowly to sleep in my arms, I remained awake. I was trying to think of what exactly could happen in case we ran into my wife's old lover. Would Bhola want to renew their affair? After all, he was of the servant class and my wife was a memsaab. There was every chance he would look to fuck my wife again. As I said, if I was him, I would.

And what about Neetu? Would my wife actually want to rekindle their passionate affair, again? That time she needed to get pregnant, but what excuse would she give if she wanted to go to bed again with him?

If you think Sahil now deserves a brother or a sister, I could cuckold you again ...

In my mind, there was no doubt that Neetu would want to fuck him again. Yes, my wife did love me and my family, but she would not be able to resist a holiday fling with Bhola. He had that kind of pull on her. She would justify to herself, and to me, that it was just sex, and I was OK with it before.

So, more importantly, did I want that to happen? As I shut my eyes, I had to honestly admit to myself - I didn't know. Did I want to be a cuckold, again?

It scared me. I realized I had to take control of the situation, otherwise a scandal could backfire spectacularly on us. After all, my whole extended family would be there.

I made a mental note to make some calls to India in the morning.

I snuggled against Neetu and hugged her tightly. We had about a week left for our India trip, and most of the packing (and some of the shopping) had already been done. Our accommodations in the village hadn't been fixed yet, but I wasn't too worried. Some last-minute adjustment would be made by my cousin Manav, the bride Rashmika's brother. I had already spoken to him on the phone - he was the main organizer and planner of the wedding. If we couldn't stay in the main complex where others were staying, we could stay in some hut nearby rented from a villager in the village. Our son Sahil was very excited of course, and so were we. Going on a holiday, especially halfway around the world, is always thrilling.

My tongue found my wife's lips and we kissed deeply, exploring each other's mouths with passion. Neetu moved her arms around my back, and slowly, gingerly, caressed my behind, cupping one of my butt cheeks.

"Oh, my love!" She moaned, as I started to slide against her body, slowly going down on her. I knew she loved that.

My face came to her breasts, as I licked each nipple and sucked on them gently. She pushed my head down further as I inserted my tongue into her navel and covered her tummy with kisses.

"Oh, baby." Neetu crooned as I pulled down her panties, stripping my wife completely naked. "You just know how to get me going!"

"I am making you ready for India." I grinned, as I rubbed my face against her inner thighs.

"Oh, my love." Neetu moaned. "What you are doing to me now ... I will follow you anywhere."

My wife's pubic hair hit my nostrils as my tongue flicked out. She hadn't shaved for some time, I realized, and her bush was quite thick now. This was unlike Neetu, who would shave regularly. Still, I didn't care. I now started to lick her clitoris, something that I knew was guaranteed to push her off the edge.

"Oh ... my ... Gods." Neetu was mumbling now, her body rubbing against mine as she writhed with pleasure. "O Siva! Babe!"

My face was now between into her thighs, and Neetu was gushing like a waterfall. I knew she couldn't hold out for long. Each lashing of my tongue provoked further moans of ecstasy and secretions of her love juice. Soon my face was glistening with her dampness. I kept inserting my tongue into the folds of her vulva and swirling it around her love hole. With a final shriek, Neetu started to cum.

"OH MY GOD! O SIVA! OH YES! OH YES!" Gripping my head in a vice-lock with her thighs, and holding my ears firmly in her hands, Neetu bobbed up and down in the throes of her orgasm. Finally, after oozing out huge amounts of wetness, she subsided. She also let go of my ears, which by now were stinging.

"Wow." She remarked, finally catching her breath. "Wow ... just like a ... wow."

"You are the wow." I told her. "So beautiful. So elegant."

Neetu laughed at my corny joke and beckoned me for a kiss. I slow crept up her body. My wife cupped my wet face in her hands and kissed me, despite her own slime on my lips. We French-kissed deeply, rolling our tongues into each other's mouth. Neetu reached down with one hand and grabbed hold of my rigid shaft. Slowly, sensuously, she started to stroke me.

"Ready to put your little dick into use, darling?" She asked me, with a coy smile.

"Yes, my dear."

Again, that term. It's been almost seven she had used the term 'little dick', I thought. And now she was using it everyday. It was almost as if she was preparing me for being a cuckold.

"When we go to India, my love." As if reading my mind, Neetu brought up the topic, as she continued to stroke me, "We will meet Bhola. The man who had made you a cuckold. Seven years ago."

There was no mistaking the sudden twitch in my cock as Neetu recounted the incident of her affair.

"Er ... yes, my love." I replied. "I know."

"He will want to fuck me ... your wife." Neetu gently mouthed the words as she blew a kiss towards my dick. Her hand maintained a firm hold on my hardness.

"I ... guess ..." I mumbled, as I started to get more and more aroused. "Which man who meets you does not want to fuck you, my love?"

"But Bhola is special." Neetu grinned, as she continued to stroke me. "This slutty wife of yours has already been unfaithful to you with him, and I don't think I can say no if he comes on to me again. He will want to make me his slut, and I ... will be ... his slut."

"I ... guess ..." I mumbled again. There was something definitive in the way she said it.

"He goes so far inside me, my love, that I can hardly feel you afterwards." Neetu continued to tease me. "He refers to you as a 'cuck' when he is fucking me. He shoots his seed deep inside me. He makes me feel like doing things with him I could never do with you. Oh, your little dick is getting hard again thinking of me and Bhola! You are enjoying this!"

"Um ... not really ..." I tried to lie. "Do you really need to sleep with him again, my love?"

"Yes. Unlike you, Bhola can fuck me several times in one night. I just cum so much more with him." Neetu continued to tease me, as she nibbled at my ear while stroking me. "Our last affair was very exciting for him too, of course. He was your servant, but still he was using your wife as a fuck toy and a cum dump. His own malkin!"

"Oh, my love." I couldn't contain myself anymore. I climbed onto her, and with one push I had plunged my hardness into her. I was by now so aroused by our talk, that I knew I wouldn't last long, nor did I try to. A couple of strokes and I exploded in my wife. Neetu casually stroked and caressed my buttocks as I emptied my cum into her. She was smiling - she knew now that I was vulnerable, and I found the notion of her dalliance with Bhola arousing. If Neetu really wanted to sleep with Bhola, she now knew that she was going to get her wish.

Finally, as I was catching my breath, we both lay on our back, Neetu resting her head on my shoulders, with the smell of cum everywhere in the room. I then got the courage to ask my wife the question. A question to which I already knew the answer.

"Will you sleep with him, babe, if he comes on to you?" I asked. "Assuming we run into Bhola, of course."

Neetu didn't immediately reply.

"My darling," She finally said, her hand caressing my chest. "I don't know. I really don't ... but ... I am pretty sure I would."

It was an honest answer.

"Is he really that good?" I asked, even though I knew the answer. "So that you will be unfaithful to me? Again?"

Neetu sighed.

"Sweetie, there is no easy way to say this." She began. "He is by far the best man I have ever been with in bed. There is simply no comparison between you and him, babe ... and I say this gently. You are good ... but he ... Bhola makes me cum so many times in one night. His stamina is just amazing. He keeps on going ... and ... you know. A girl likes that kind of thing."

"Hmm." I mumbled. "I guess."

"His cock!" Neetu continued. "My love ... you don't know how big he is! You are not even ... I would say ... one third his size!"

"Yes, you told me before."

"Does it bother you?" Neetu questioned me. "Please be honest. About me and Bhola."

"I would be lying if I said it didn't." I gave her my honest reply. "After all, you are my wife. I expect you to be faithful to me. And here you are ... my wife ... talking about sleeping with this low-class servant of a man. Cuckolding me - your loyal husband."

Neetu raised herself and kissed me. Her lips pressed against mine, and we kissed for a long time.

"Darling." She finally commented. "When I was rubbing you, right now, talking about this ... you were very aroused. You cannot deny it. Even ... seven years ago ... when this all happened ... you loved the idea of being a cuckold."

I sighed.

"I know, my love." I admitted. "But that time ... we wanted a child."

"That was just an excuse, my dear." Neetu grinned. "You know you love being a cuckold. Right now ... just the thought of another man cumming in my pussy was enough to make you cum."

"Yes, but ... we were trying to get you pregnant." I helplessly repeated. "We needed a child."

"We can have another child now also." Neetu insisted. "After all, it is not just sex. I want to be a mother, again. If ... and I am saying if ... things come to pass, and we meet Bhola, and there is an opportunity, can you not give me a hall pass? Just for this vacation? Sometimes your wife just needs a good hard pounding. That's what these servants are for. Please, my love. I am forty. I may not get the chance to be a mother again."

My wife then kissed my cheek.

"Darling," Neetu said. "I know why you find it arousing. As your wife, I understand why you didn't mind being a cuckold for me seven years ago. Even as I was trying to get pregnant."

"Really? Um ... why, my love?"

"The arousal of me being with another man ... due to your failure in impregnating me ... can be hot." Neetu explained. "So now, I am just asking you - let us both enjoy. I get to enjoy some proper sex, and you can ... enjoy ... being a cuckold. Again. Just for this vacation. After we return to Canada, I am all yours. Again. And I may be a mother one more time!"

I knew I couldn't deny her request. I had to remind myself that it was just sex, and I should be happy Neetu was being honest with me.

"Yes, my love." I agreed. "But my whole family will be there. I will depend on you ... to be discreet ... again."

Neetu smiled like the cat who had just swallowed the cream.

"Thank you, my love! Some husbands will just talk and fantasize but not you. You walk the walk, my love. And I love you for it."

"Just ... for this holiday." I repeated. "And ... you have to be discreet."

"Yes, yes." Neetu nodded. "And, my sweet love, as a cuckold husband you should realize it will just be sex. Nothing else. I love you, my love. But ... about being discreet ..."

"Yes, my love?"

"We will have to find a way ... you must help me ... unless you want everyone to hear me moaning as I bounce around on his cock!"

We fucked again. The situation and our conversation were just too hot. This time I came even quicker. And this time there was no doubt that I found it arousing, and Neetu was GOING to do it with Bhola.

As we snuggled and slowly drifted to sleep, I knew we were playing with fire. After all, Neetu would be a woman possessed once she had a taste of Bhola's cock. The last time, seven years ago, she was supposed to sleep with him only a few times - just to get pregnant. Neetu used birth control pills and dragged out the affair for five months. This also she never told me about; I had found out by chance. And just like the other things she had kept from me; I also never confronted her about this.

Sometimes I wonder if there are other things Neetu had kept from me that I don't know about.

One thing was clear.

After seven years, Neetu was now once more lusting after Bhola's cock, and she wasn't going to exercise proper judgement once we were in India. As such, I couldn't really depend on her being discreet. I am sure if Bhola wanted to fuck her in the open field in the centre of the village in front of everyone, she would say yes. It was up to me - I had to ensure somehow ... my second time being a cuckold ... that too in my family's ancestral village with everyone being present ... went on smoothly.

... you must help me ... unless you want everyone to hear me moaning as I bounce around on his cock ...

Maybe it would be a great idea if we stayed somewhere apart from the rest of the family after all.

* * *


Manav, my cousin Rashmika's younger brother, came to pick us up from the Chennai airport. He had someone else with him, a man who looked to be about 65 - so fifteen years older than me.

"This is Sabbir anna." Manav introduced the older man. "He in in our village council, and he also had some work in Chennai, so he came with me to pick you all up."

"Sabbir anna!" I shook hands with him. "Thank you for taking the trouble."

"No trouble at all!" Sabbir replied. "After all, your family, especially Manav's father, and yours ... both are such big benefactors to our village! The donations they made for our temple last year!"

We were now in a van, travelling on a 4-hour trip from Chennai to our village. It had been long journey, to say the least.

From Ottawa we had taken a short flight to Toronto. And then after 3 hours in the airport, it was 14 hours to Dubai. And then another 5-hour layover, and then a 5-hour flight to Chennai. And now, after all this time, another 4 hours before we reached our village. It was tiring, and Sahil was cranky. Right now, he was sleeping in Neetu's arms, who was a bit cranky herself.

"We almost thought you guys weren't going to come to India." Manav said. As the bride's younger brother, in addition to being the chief planner and organizer, he was also the one in charge of running all the errands. Such as picking NRI folks up from the airport 4 hours away.

"After all," Sabbir continued, "You never seem to want to come to India, let alone the village."

"True, but we couldn't miss Rashmika's wedding." I replied. "And coming here to India from Canada is not cheap! I am seeing you, Manav, after what ... four years!"

"Yes." Manav smiled. He was younger to me by about ten years. Manav had been an errant and mischievous boy growing up, but now he was a responsible family man, managing Tau's business and looking after all their property.

"How's your wife Sheila?" Neetu asked. "And your kids ... you have two, right?"

"Kids are well, Bhabhi." Manav replied. "Yes, I have two. And Sheila is well too."

Here I should mention that all my younger cousins called my wife Bhabhi, even though in our mother tongue we called the wife of an older brother Anni. This was out of respect for Neetu's culture, where the term 'Bhabhi' was used. Moreover, even though Manav and Neetu are the same age, he calls her 'Bhabhi' out of deference since I am older than him.

"However, Sheila is not going to come here until two days before the actual wedding ceremony itself, Bhabhi." Manav continued. "Actually, she may not come at all. Her mother - my mother-in-law - is not doing well, so Sheila and the kids are still in Chennai, looking after her."

"Tell me, Manav." I was curious. "Why is Rashmika getting married in our ancestral village, and not in Chennai, where you guys live?"

"Papa wanted a traditional wedding for his only daughter." Manav answered. "Full of traditional customs and culture. He wanted everyone in the extended family, rich or poor, to be part of it, rather than our elite circle back in Chennai. Rashmika seems to agree."

"I see. So, it's a large wedding, with hundreds of guests."

"Yes, but don't you worry about it. Tonight, once we reach the village, you relax." Manav told me. "You probably will be suffering from jet leg anyways. You are the last folks to come. And pretty much the last NRI folks to confirm."

"The village hasn't seen a wedding like this in years." Sabbir remarked. "A full-fledged Tamil wedding, with all the functions, with lots of people, and guests!"

"What days are the functions?" Neetu asked from the backseat, stifling a yawn. "And how many are there?"

"Bhabhi, tomorrow night is the Nichayathartham, or the engagement." Manav answered. "We will have the pooja worship ceremony at a Ganesh temple, and then there will be food at the community centre in the village."

"So, we basically have one night to get rid of our jet lag." I yawned. "I could fall asleep right now."

"You should stay up." Neetu advised from the backseat, while stifling another yawn of her own. "We need to struggle somehow till the night, then we can sleep. That way our internal body clock will be in sync with local time."

"Maybe." I yawned again. "Manav, what are the ceremonies again?"

"Well, the day after tomorrow is the bamboo pole ceremony, or the Pandha Kaal Nadudhal." Manav grinned. "This is where both families plant a decorated bamboo pole outside their house, signifying an upcoming marriage ceremony."

"Wow, Tauji is going full out on tradition." I marvelled. "I mean, who does that nowadays! We never did. No one I know did."

"Rashmika seems to love all of this." Manav shrugged. "Then we will have four days till the Gauri Puja - the other prayer ceremony. But that's only on our side since we are the bride's side. And then, two days later, the Haldi ceremony."

"Neetu." Sabbir asked my wife. "Do you know about all these Tamil customs?"

"Yes, anna." Neetu replied. "I know the Gauri Puja was devoted to the goddess Parvati. She is believed to be the sign of purity and every South Indian ***** bride wants a blessing from her."

"Yes." Sabbir nodded. "There will also be some elaborate customs with rice husks, as rice is also the symbol of prosperity and fertility for us."

"When is the Haldi?" I asked. Manav told me the date.

The Haldi ceremony was usually performed a couple of days or so before the actual wedding, when yellow turmeric paste was applied to the skin of the bride and groom. Each occasion had songs and dances performed by relatives.

"Sahil will have an eye opening about our traditional customs." Even Neetu was amazed at the length my uncle was going for his daughter's wedding. "In our wedding we skipped straight to the Haldi and then Sangeet, before the actual wedding."

"Well, ours wasn't a strict South Indian wedding." I reminded my wife. "I mean, we had your customs also. And both of us wanted a small wedding, unlike Rashmika."

"I don't even think I brought that many dresses, Manav!" Neetu complained. "I will look like an old hag, repeating the same sari!"

"Bhabhi!" Manav grinned. "If all old hags looked like you, this world would be a better place!"

Neetu laughed, as did I. Wisely, Sabbir kept quiet.

"See ..." Neetu poked me from the back. "This is how you compliment your wife. Not like you ... making corny jokes ... 'you look like a wow' and all that."

I ignored my wife's good-natured ribbing then turned back to Manav. "How many more festivities, Manav?"

"All that I said - that's just the first week, and now we are on to the day of the wedding." Manav laughed again. "On the morning of the wedding, we have the Mangal Snaanam, or the purification bath. Some of the village elderly ladies will apply some special oil and turmeric on Rashmika and give her a bath. This is ladies only thing. Of course, then in the afternoon will be the wedding ceremony at the main temple of the village."

This was the highlight - the actual wedding, and of course why we were here. The wedding would be a festive one, a grand one, with over a thousand attendees, many of them poor villagers and relatives. There would be the Kashi yatra (where the groom departs for the temple to get married), the garland exchange, and finally the Kanyadanam. The Kanyadanam is where the bride will be seated on the lap of the father and dedicated to goddess Laxmi and Lord Vishnu. The bride symbolizes the goddess and the new groom the god Vishnu. As the daughter is seated on the father's lap, the father offers her as a sacrifice to the god - her new husband. The priest will recite some verses and pour milk and holy water on Rashmika's hands and onto her father, my Tauji.

Many modern women did this part differently - after all thinking of yourself as a sacrifice to a god had some issues - but I knew my Tauji was a traditional man, and his daughter wasn't the one to raise a fuss.

So far everything is technically pre-wedding. After all this, the groom then ties the Mangal Sutra, or a necklace symbolizing their wedding, and this means the wedding is now final. This is the wedding moment in our culture. The final act of the wedding would be the Saptapadi, or the vows around the holy fire.

All of this would have taken us to the ninth day of our stay in the village. Two days after the wedding would be a dinner hosted by the groom's side. Coincidentally, the date for that function would be December 31st. The last day of the year, and the last function for Rashmika's wedding.

The next day many people would depart, including us. We had a small three-day holiday planned in Goa, before returning to Canada.

"Bhabhi." Manav cast me a look and then addressed my wife, while keeping an eye on the road. "We had some trouble arranging accommodations of everyone - there are so many guests. And especially because you guys confirmed at the last minute."

"Oh?" Neetu didn't say much, waiting for Manav to continue. "And where are you putting this old hag and her husband?"

"As you know, there is one main big building we have - the zamindar residence." Manav said. "It has thirty rooms for the guests, and I put most of our guests there. All rooms have air conditioning, as well as geezers and private bathrooms. Gopal's parents are there in one of the rooms. I was thinking your son Sahil can stay there with his grandparents. I have already talked to them, and they are fine with it."

"But why?" Neetu was puzzled. "Why can't Sahil stay with us?"

Manav once again shared a look with me before continuing.

"I had to put you two in a villager's hut." Manav's tone was apologetic. "Father rented out some huts from the villagers for the other guests. Actually, Sabbir anna helped us get those huts."

"Each hut has two bedrooms," Sabbir stated. "And one common bathroom and a small kitchenette. No air-conditioning, and you must heat the water in the kitchenette and take to the bathroom for hot water for your bath. And the toilet is Indian style, not Western."

"Oh." Neetu's mind was racing. "And we have to stay like this for how many days?"

"I am so sorry, Bhabhi." Manav again apologized. "It was so late when you confirmed. Usually, all our ... well ... NRI guests were already settled in the zamindar residence. And we were lucky we found some villagers who had huts to rent out. These people would be going somewhere else, so they were glad to rent out their own homes to us. These are very basic living conditions, so Sahil is better off with his grandparents. And you will be staying there for the whole trip."

"I see, I see." Neetu nodded. I knew she would understand; she knows village life is not one of comfort, but I knew she was hoping we could have been accommodated in the zamindar residence. "After four days I am sure I will come and give you some tight slaps, Manav! An Indian style toilet! I have to squat! After so many years!"

"I am so sorry, Bhabhi." Manav again apologized. "On the flip side, you will have more time to yourselves. These huts are a bit away from everyone, so more privacy."

"Speaking of privacy," Neetu sighed. "You mentioned these huts have two rooms. So, we will be sharing our space with someone else?"

"Yes." Manav smiled. "In fact, you know the person you will be sharing your hut with."

As we both waited, Manav gave us the name.

"It will be your old servant, Bhola, and later on, his brother." Manav said. "I thought it would be good for you. They can take care of you and serve you and make things easy for you. Heat the water for the bath, keep the toilet clean, and so on."

The look on my wife's face was priceless. We couldn't talk in front of Manav, but I bet she was thinking the same thing.

What were the chances? We avoid Bhola for all these years, and now we will be sharing the same hut for two weeks!

What she didn't know was that I had known about this arrangement all along. When I had talked to Manav, I only asked him not to tell Neetu until we were in India, and never to let slip the fact that I knew.

Moreover, it had been my idea that the extra room be given to Bhola and his brother, something that Manav agreed to as well. After all, it solved an accommodation issue for him, and gave us a servant for our stay.

What I didn't realize at that moment was that this would leave to Neetu spending most of her time in his bedroom, used like a whore and thrown around the bed like a rag doll, before being sent back to my bed, her innards full of another man's cum.

It was just after dinner when we finally made our way back to our hut. We had dropped off Sahil at the zamindar residence and then dropped off our luggage in our hut. Bhola was there, waiting for us.

He hadn't changed much. He was just entering his thirties, though his face was more tanned and had a weather-beaten look. He had become even more muscular, if that was possible.

"Sahib! Memsaab! How nice to see you all again!" He kept on saying, as he touched my feet with respect. "It will be my pleasure to be of service to you, again! After all these years!"

Sure! I remembered how he had serviced my wife all those years ago!

"When Manav sahib asked me to stay here, I told him I will be happy to help look after you both!" Bhola was beaming. "I never thought I would see you again, sahib. And you, memsaab."

"We are also happy to meet you again, Bhola." I replied drily.

After some pleasantries, I asked Bhola what he had been up to.

"I was in Dubai for a bit, sahib!" Bhola answered.

His eyes, even while talking to me, could not help glance at Neetu every other second. He was openly ogling my wife even as he talked to us. "And I also worked with one of your former neighbours ... Mrs. Gill ... if you remember."

"I guess so." I was unpacking and getting ready for a bath. "She was the Punjabi lady in ... what ... 37B?"

"Yes, sahib." Bhola nodded. He then turned to Neetu.

"Memsaab, you have become even more beautiful than what I remember." He openly praised her lavishly in my presence. "Sahib is indeed a lucky man."

"Oh Bhola." Neetu tried to shrug it off. "You need to get your eyes checked! I am an old hag now."

"You have a very beautiful and welcoming smile, memsaab." Bhola continued. "I always thought it was one of your best characteristics. Shows the goodness of your heart."

"You are too much, Bhola." Neetu grinned. "I am now fat. And big."

"Oh no!" Bhola insisted. "You are still the beautiful young memsaab I remember!"

Even as he made my wife blush, Bhola turned back to me.

"Sahib, I have just boiled some hot water for the bucket. If you or memsaab want to take a quick bath." He then added, "If you find the water too cold, let me know. I am here to help you, sahib."

He was being nice, but for some reason I detected a smirk in his voice. Almost as if he was telling me, "Hey cuckold. Try not to be too humiliated when your wife starts screaming out my name in ecstasy."

I shook my head. I was imagining things, of course.

"I will go first." I announced. "Bhola, you can boil some more water for your memsaab."

I went in the bathroom and shut the door. It was a steel door with a latch. However, there was no shower in the bathroom, just a bucket of cold water and a bucket of hot water. You had a mug; you mixed the two and took a bath.

"Memsaab, it's been so long." I heard Bhola tell my wife outside, even as I poured water over myself. "Seven years?"

"Yes, Bhola." I heard Neetu reply cautiously.

"I thought about you all those years, memsaab." Bhola continued. "Our time together was special, wasn't it, memsaab?"

"Yes, it was, Bhola." My wife agreed. "But that was seven years ago. I am a mother now."

"I heard." Bhola replied. "Somehow ... I always thought ... I would be the one ... making you a mother, memsaab."

Poor Bhola! If only he knew!

"I ... your sahib ... we ..." I heard Neetu stammer, even though we had this speech prepared. "We went to the USA ... Bhola. He got ... some treatment. Thankfully, now we have Sahil."

"Yes, memsaab." Bhola said. "But ... perhaps ... do you think ... it is time ... your son ... would need some siblings?"

It was hot. It was outrageous. It was bold. He was hitting on my wife, propositioning her, and I was in the bathroom with just a wall and a door between us, taking a bath.

"I ... Bhola." Neetu replied nervously. "What we had, Bhola, it was a good memory. I always cherish those days."

"Memsaab. You have now become even more beautiful. I simply cannot stop looking at you! And oh ... your boobs!"

"Bhola." Neetu gave another nervous laugh. "We are staying here for two weeks. You can't be saying those things to me. Please, my husband is here."

"We will talk when he is not here, memsaab." Bhola replied boldly. "Tonight, come to my room. Just like old times. I will do more than just talk about your boobs. You know what I can do to you, memsaab."

"Bhola, please." My wife pleaded. "Not now. My husband is right here."

"Your husband is a little dicked cuck, memsaab." Bhola stated. "The only cock that should go inside you ... is mine ... and my friends ... memsaab. And you know it. Yet, seven years ago, memsaab ... you disappeared so suddenly. I couldn't even give you a proper good-bye fuck!"

"Bhola ... please."

"This time, I am fully prepared, memsaab." Bhola declared. "Your last night with us is Dec 31, the last night of the year. Me, and my friends, will be prepared. We will make it a night to remember for you, memsaab."

He was coming along very strong. I thought it was time I put a stop to their banter.

"Neetu," I called out loudly, "I am done. Get ready."

When Neetu was done her bath, and we both put on some fresh attire, we then went back to the zamindar residence. It was more fun time ... to meet more relatives and engage in more revelry. I met Sabbir there, and a few other important men from the village council, as well as some of their underlings. My Tauji was well connected.

Neetu and I finished our dinner there, met even more relatives, and now, barely able to stand on our feet, we were back in our hut. I was asleep within two minutes of hitting the bed.

What I didn't know at that time was that my currently running seven-year-old streak of being Neetu's only man in bed was about to come to an end. There was a reason Bhola came on too strong. He knew what Neetu liked in him. Wanted from him.

I should have known. As Bhola greeted us back, the look in my wife's eyes should have alerted me to the fact that she was about to cuckold me.

Again.

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