[ddey333]

The practise in the shed continued with the same level of passion and commitment from everyone and Purva was by now horny and sweating like crazy. She had never ever danced so much in her life and Irfan, being the strict master he was, took care of every detail and made her repeat certain steps entirely where he deemed fit. He commanded her to jump more energetically, shake her tits faster and heavier and drop to the ground with a thud multiple times on her back where it was necessary to show off her cunt to the audience. The lads on the other hand did not have any steps that had to show exorbitant energy levels like Purva. All their steps were just mostly feeling her up and slapping her parts or just casual steps. Of course, to Purva it made sense as the raand naach was essentially her show. People would come to see her nude and see her dance obscenely and no one would look at the lads.

With small breaks, Purva's first day of practise finally came to an end after about 5 hours of gruelling practise where she made to dance to 10 songs. She was so tired at the end of the practise, that she just dropped to the floor and slept on her back with her legs wide and gasping for breath from the extreme physical exertion she was made to go through by her master.

Irfan and the lads laughed a little as Purva fell onto the floor. Irfan came up to her and sat beside her as he rubbed his hands all over Purva's nude sweaty body.

"Kaisa lag rha hai randi?", he asked her.

"Master ji, main bohot jaada thak gayi hu, aur yeh bass 10 gaane tak hue hai aaj", she said still panting.

"Haan randi...koi baat nahi...tere me bohot aag hai...aur tu seekh legi...parr tujhe aur aag laana hoga. Samajh ki tu ek mard hai aur saare kapde pehn k naach rha hai...itna khulla aur besharm naachna hoga tujhe...jor se challang maar, jor se niche gir ja, jor se apne babbe hila. Har cheez me taakat laga, samjhi?", he said as he rubbed all over Purva's sweaty body.

"Thik h Master ji", she said as she composed herself. The lads of course enjoyed the view standing right in front of her exposed sex, as she shamelessly spread her legs wide from being tired. They were leering at her sweaty vagina and licking their lips in lust, as Purva blushed, feeling so womanly.

After a while Purva got up and put on her clothes back. "Randi yeh bass tera pehla din hai...issi liye main tujhe jadli chhod raha hu bass 5 ghante ke practise k baad. Kal se isse bhi jaada practise karna hoga, samjhi?", he said to her.

"Thik h master saab", said Purva as she once again dropped to her knees to touch her master's feet.

Irfan dropped Purva at Mushtaq's place on his way back and once again reminded her that she needed to put in more energy into each of her steps.

"Raand naach hai yeh...toh tujhe ek dum ek besharam randi k tarah naachna padega, samjhi na?", he said to her.

Purva nodded and said, "Haan master ji".

Her first day of practise was indeed very demanding, no doubt. From the looks of Irfan, she believed that she could do better and she was serious about it. She wanted to do her best for the raand naach, even if it meant dancing continuously with so much energy for hours on end. With that determination, after Mushtaq and Purva had sex after dinner, she told her husband that she would dutifully put him to sleep when Mushtaq would cuddle with her and have fun with her parts and after that she would just move to the kitchen area and redo her steps that she learnt in the morning session. Mushtaq loved how committed his whore was for doing her best for the raand naach. "Jaroor meri raand, kyu nahi...", he said as he kissed her lips roughly with lust before going to sleep.

Purva then got out of the bed and moved to the kitchen area where there was enough space for her to practise the steps again, that she had learnt in the morning with her master. She didn't want to turn the light on lest it wake up her husband from his sleep. So without switching on the light, she recollected the steps and worked on improving them.

Just like Irfan wanted, she squatted more, shook her tits more, jumped higher and thrusted her pelvis more. She focused on showing great energy in each of her steps characteristic of a whore's shameless dance. Once she realised how good she was getting at it, she attained more and more confidence. She imagined hundreds of cheap local men shouting and clapping at her whorish steps filled with obscenity and ridiculousness. She also made sure her expressions came out perfectly. She bit her lips like a trashy prostitute, slapped at her own tits when required, and smiled like a shameless slut. She practised for an hour or so repeating each of her steps till she felt satisfied, moving on to the next. She was coming to love it and how it made her feel. She was feeling her soul, that of a true characterless whore only existing to satisfy the lustful and perverted desires of all the lustful men of Mastanpur.

She was sweating all over and panting again, but such was her determination. Still completely nude, after practising for an hour, she kissed on her husband's cheek and proceeded to sleep on the ground so as to not dirty the bed with her raand naach sweat. She was so tired having danced like a stupid slut for a total of more than 6 hours that day and she drifted to sleep in a minute.

[ddey333]

Practice makes a MAN perfect

---

Over the next two days, Irfan pushed Purva over the limit as he made her practise for more than 10 hours per day. They would start at around 9 am and then practise till about 2 pm after which they would break for lunch and then convene again at around 4 pm and practise till about 11pm in the night. Purva would be panting all throughout as she demonstrated great energy levels with each of her steps much to the delight and satisfaction of Irfan. He was certainly happy that Purva had improved her energy levels as she shamelessly danced through all the loud songs as he wished.

"Randi tujhe yeh samajhna padega ki sab mard tujhe dekhne aayenge...woh log dekhna chahte hai tere bhosda kitna sahi hai, tere babbe kitne bade hai aur woh kaise hilte hai, tu kitni besharam hai. Yeh tu bhool ja ki tu ek aurat hai aur soch ki tu ek mard hi hai jo sab k saamne kapde pehn k naach rha hai...waise tujhe dance karna hai", he would repeatedly tell her in her breaks as she would be panting and drinking water.

Over the next two days, Irfan also increased her diet to a great extent. In the morning, at the start of her session, he would command Purva to eat her 12 bananas as usual. After lunch before convening for their evening session at 4pm, Irfan would give Purva 10 bananas that would give her more energy for their second session. Again at around 7pm, he ordered her to have 12 more bananas that would give her enough energy till their session lasted till 11pm.

Irfan also increased the whole intensity factor of the raand naach that Purva had very clearly realised. He used songs that were more loud and had faster beats that required the whore to dance more vigorously. Also, she realised that she was being used more and more by the lads. For one of the songs, Purva was taught to do a step where she was told to show her behind to the audience and shake her ass titillatingly and move towards the audience. As she did so, Irfan commanded two lads on either side of her who would slap at her ass roughly several times till she was inches distances from the front row of the audience. "Abbe yaar tum logon ko kya ho gaya? yeh aurat nhi hai, randi hai, ek dum aur jor se iski gaand maaro", Irfan would shout at the lads as they would repeat the step several times until they all got it right. Purva realised how sore she felt as the lads slapped at her ass mercilessly so that they could get it right, right enough to satisfy Irfan. The step of course did not end there. After jiggling her ass towards the audience with the two lads slapping roughly at her ass cheeks with their bare hands several times, Purva was required to turn towards the audience and in one quick motion fall on her back with a thud on the floor and spread her legs wide and push her pelvis to and fro to expose her naked vagina to the crowd. It was indeed quite a titillating step that would entice the audience, thought Purva. In practising the latter step, Purva ended up falling on her back on the rough floor inconveniently several times before getting it right. Repeating the step several times, she was scared for her spinal cord but she didn't say anything to her master. Of course, she realised that the raand naach was a very special event and that she had to be at her very best and so she did not object to Irfan's demands even once.

Purva also had to face the wrath of Irfan in instances where she could not get her steps right even in multiple attempts. For example, in one of the songs, Purva was required to raise her arms and put her hands on her head to show her armpit hair, bend at her knees and walk awkwardly towards one of the lads as a comic step that was intended to elicit laughs from the audience. The song that was played was actually a parody song where a male prisoner was acting as a female in front of a horny security officer officer in the security officer station, who was reprimanding the prisoner for his petty crimes. For this song, Irfan wanted Purva to enact the role of the prisoner. She was required to dance like a man dressed as a female and to have certain funny and nonsensical facial expressions that were intended to show Purva as a man dressed like a female. But, no matter how many times Purva tried, Irfan wasn't satisfied with Purva's efforts. "Chutiya hai randi tu...yeh step nhi kar pa rahi hai", he shouted at her. "Mujhe tera chehra aur tera steps dekh ke hansi aane chahiye loudi, mere chehre pe hansi dikh rahi hai kya tujhe? loudi kahin ki", he shouted loudly at her and tightly slapped her on her right cheek after Purva couldn't get it right even after 5-6 attempts. That was the moment when Purva lost it and she instantly started to develop tears in her eyes, as she stood there naked in front of the men and cried, much to Irfan's annoyance. "Bass yeh rona aata hai tujhe, nikamma randi", he shouted loudly at her and exited the shed in anger, as Purva broke down. She fell to the floor and cried loudly with her hand in her hands. Fortunately, the young lads empathised with her who came up to her and comforted her. "Arre raand bhabhi, koi nhi...ro mat tu", one of them said as Purva continued to cry non-stop. "Irfan ji bohot strict master hai aur yeh sab tujhe jhelna padega raand bhabhi", said another to comfort her. Purva looked up at them with teary eyes and said, "mujhe yeh step nhi aa rha hai Firan, aur master ji mere se pareshaan ho gaye hai", she said as she continued to cry like a kid. The lads realised that she wasn't hurt because she received a tight slap from her master, but because she failed to impress him. They could not believe the commitment she showed for the raand naach and her willingness to impress her master. One of the lads named Kabir then said, "Dekho bhabhi aap aise karo", he said as he enacted the step himself as a male prisoner dressed in female clothes. Purva looked up at him and inadvertently let out a funny laugh looking at him even though she was still crying, and she immediately realised what was wrong with her steps and her expression. Looking at her smile in between her tears made the lads happy. "Ab samjhi na tu, bass yeh kar jab master ji wapas aayenge", the lad said to her as he kissed her lovingly on her cheeks and wiped her tears. After that, Purva somehow managed to get her confidence back and as soon as Irfan arrived back into the shed after a smoke, she immediately got into the pose where she raised her arms and put her hands on head. She then bent awkwardly at her knees and walked towards Irfan like a ridiculous tramp. This time, her facial expression were perfect as she squinted her eyes and pushed her tongue out in random directions, twisting her face randomly. Watching her, Irfan let out a happy smile as Purva completed her step by falling at the security officerman's feet. This time, purva was sure that she did her steps as Irfan wanted and looked up at Irfan while she lay at his feet, as Irfan nodded his head in approval. Immediately the lads clapped in delight, knowing that Purva had finally got her step right. Purva too smiled at Irfan and wiped her tears, pleased that she had succeeded in impressing her master.

After her dance practice would end, Purva would be really sore from all the steps and the slaps she would receive from the lads as part of the steps. Indeed, the raand naach was taking a toll on her and she wished that she was fit enough for the actual raand naach. The practise was indeed very strenuous for her, as Irfan only expected the best from her.

On the third and last day of her practise, Purva was made to stay up till 4 am in the morning by her master. The dance troop had left by 11pm, but Irfan found imperfections in some of the steps that Purva had to perform and so he made her stay till late in the morning. He made her repeat her steps until she managed to get all of them right. She was extremely tired at the end of it, but truth be told, she was impressed with the level of professionalism Irfan had showed. She had eaten about 40 bananas that day and she had expended all of her energy for her steps, such was the caliber Irfan had brought out of his students.

At the end of the session, Irfan seemed really happy. "Meri raand, ab mujhe lag rha hai tu ek dum tayyar hai teri raandnaach k liye. Kal tera makeup hai, uske baad ek baar aur thoda practise kar lenge hum", he said as they ended the session at 4am in the morning.

As she reached home, she saw Mushtaq fast asleep. She didn't want to wake him up even though she longed for some quality rough sex with her hubby. Moreover she didn't have the energy after practising for her raand naach through the day and night. She washed her face and slept on the floor and drifted to sleep in a matter of seconds.

[ddey333]

Purva's makeup gets underway

---

After her dance practice sessions, Purva was so tired that she couldn't wake up on time for her duty as the slum's doodhwali the next day. Luckily, her sprint as Nasira bhabhi's kaamwali had ended yesterday, but when she got up at 8 am, way past her usual time of 6 am when she went for delivering milk to the slum women, she panicked. She did not want to piss off the slum women at this time when she was going to perform her raand naach. Mushtaq was still fast asleep on the bed. In a jiffy, she quickly got up from the floor as she was and quickly opened the door and ran for the milk booth all naked. She was barely in her senses as she managed to get just a few hours sleep, and her body was still aching from all the practice she had been doing for the last 3 days.

As she ran naked on the road towards the milk booth with her tits jumping in all directions, all the men who saw her laughed at her and commented on her. "Arre kya hua randi, tera bhosda gir gaya hai kya kahi, dudhne bhaag rhi hai", "Lagta hai randi ka bhosda bohot garam ho gayi hai, subah subah bhaag rahi hai lund k chakkar me", "Kya hua randi? jaada randibaazi karne k wajah Mushtaq ji ne tujhe ghar se bahar fenk diya kya" were some of the comments she received from the passing men on the streets as Purva ran towards the milk booth. Normally, she would have been turned on hearing such rude and nasty comments on her, but now she was too concerned about the slum women to care about their comments.

As she got near the milk booth, Kabul the milkman looked at her running, and said, "Arre bhabhi, kahan reh gayi tu? Aaj doodh bechne aayi hi nahi?", he said with a quizzical look.

Purva panting replied, "Arre Kabul, aaj main uth nahi paayi thi time pe...".

Kabul deliciously looked on at the whore in front of him all naked and juicy, but he could see the panic on her face that she had failed to turn up to deliver milk to the slum women. Of course, Kabul was a spectator in all the instances when she was terribly debased and humiliated by the slum women for appearing naked at the milk booth few days back and he knew that Purva was terribly frightened from pissing them off. As a friend, he wanted to help her in anyway he could.

"Achha, bhabhi jo tu ne kiya woh sahi nhi kiya...saare gaav ke aurat aaye the thodi der pehle ek k baad ek aur doodh le gaye the, par tujhe bohot gaali diye the", said Kabul.

Purva of course knew that was bound to happen, but she wasn't sure what she could do now.

With a helpless face, she said to Kabul "Abhi main kya karu Kabul? meri galti hi thi, main so gayi thi jaada", she said as she banged her head, upset at herself.

Kabul of course knew the situation she was in, and her reason for panic was genuine. As the slum's doodhwali, Purva played a very important role and missing a day without informing beforehand was sure to cause problems for her from the slum women.

"Raand bhabhi, abhi tu tension mat le...rehne de koi nahi...chala jaa, kal maafi maang lena unse...pair padh jaana unka aur bolna ki aise kabhi nahi hoga wapas. Abhi jaane ka koi matlab nahi hai, sab ne doodh aake le liya hai", said Kabul.

"Hmm, thik h. Yaar nind jaada aa gayi mujhe...uth te hi main bhaag ki aayi aise hi", she said indicating her nude avatar.

Kabul looked at Purva from head to toe at her nude form and licked his lips in lust. He would have loved to have a piece of her right then, but there were many people on the streets at this point and he did not want to risk it for him or for his friend Purva.

"Koi nahi raand bhabhi, abhi chale jao aur Mushtaq ji ke saah maje karo, kal dekh lenge", he said with a comforting smile before Purva half-heartedly waved him goodbye and left.

Back at her home, Purva and Mushtaq completed their daily ritual where Mushtaq roughly fucked his dear wife's mouth and had his way with her parts completely gagging her. He loved to do such demeaning things to his whore wife first thing in the morning. The feeling of having her mouth wrapped around his cock first thing after he got up and getting the opportunity to roughly fuck her mouth was a very erotic experience for him indeed. After that, Mushtaq took a bath and he urged Purva also to take a bath after what seemed like 5 days, as today Purva was going to be made up for her trashy look for tomorrow's raand naach.

"Achhe se saboon se dho lena apna badan, randi", he said to her much to Purva's delight.

Purva of course wasn't particularly into Mushtaq's kink of staying without taking a bath for days on end, but it was something Mushtaq wanted for his whore. He said he loved it when she possessed her swachh sugandh or the natural aroma that he wanted to smell on his whore all the time. The dense pubic hair in her armpits also went along with the same fetish of his. Today, gladly for Purva, she would be taking a bath so that she would look cleaner for tomorrow's naked raand naach that she was going to do in front of all the men of Mastanpur.

Not having received any specific instructions for her makeup day, Purva was dropped off at the shed by Mushtaq and after confirming that Irfan was there at the shed waiting for her, Mushtaq made his way back. He told Purva that he had some work in the city and that he would be arriving only in the night. Purva kissed him goodbye knowing that this was going to be another long day ahead of her.

Once inside the shed, Irfan said, "aaja randi, abhi hum chalenge tujhe makeup karwaane, bass Hussain ji ka call ka intezaar hai", he said.

In a matter of minutes, Irfan received a call from Hussain asking them to come to Patel chowk, their pre-decided place where Purva was going to be made up today for her raand naach tomorrow.

"Chal randi, aa gaya Hussain ji ka call", he said. Purva hopped on to Irfan's cycle as they made their way to Patel chowk for Purva's makeup.

[ddey333]

If possible start some other story this is getting boring

Yes, it is being stretched too long.
Halting here , new story coming in a separate thread. :)

[ddey333]

Yes, it is being stretched too long.
Halting here , new story coming in a separate thread. :)

This thread will be resumed after a couple of days.

[ddey333]

This thread will be resumed after a couple of days.

Will be back with another incomplete story of aurelius tomorrow .
A classic one, but left incomplete .

[ddey333]

The Motel Manager's Wife
 
aurelius1982
 


The Motel Manager's Wife

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Note: Hello friends. Starting a new story. Will be posting as I write it. Should go on for a few weeks I think. I have a long-ish plot in mind. 
As usual, will update whenever I can. if there are no updates for a few days, please be patient. *

[ddey333]

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Where exactly should I start this story? At the very beginning? But what is the beginning? A year ago? Two years ago? Ten years ago? Fifteen years ago?

I guess for me, the story really started in the middle of a scorching hot summer night in a small town in South Texas about a year ago. I woke up with a start in my bedroom, drenched in sweat. Summers in Texas are a lot like summers in India. Even the nights are hot. In fact even hotter. Thank heavens for ubiquitous air conditioning and ample electricity in America, you didn't suffer it much. Which is why I was confused as to why the room was so hot. I am usually a heavy sleeper. Once I even slept through an earthquake. So for me to wake up like this, the room had to be really hot.

In the darkness I got up and walked to the AC. It was making more noise than usual. So it was clearly on. I put my hand over the vents. And I understood the problem right away.

"Apara, the AC is broken." I instinctively said, and then bit my tongue. If she hadn't woken up, why wake her? She was the exact opposite of me, a very light sleeper. Luckily, there was no response. So I hadn't woken her up. Phew!

The good thing about living in a motel is that you have a huge selection of bedrooms. So what if the AC in our small manager's apartment was broken? Half the guest rooms were unoccupied. I could have my pick. I went back to the bed to get my phone from the night stand. By now my eyes had gotten used to the darkness. And that's when I first noticed it.

My wife wasn't in bed with me. I could see the bathroom door was partially open and the light wasn't on.*

I didn't really think much of it at that time. In our business, such situations can arise in the middle of the night. A guest checking in late, some complaint about noise from some room, the night clerk having to leave in the middle of the night, the security officer or immigration officers visiting us to ask if a particular fugitive is in the motel, or literally anything else you can think of. As the light sleeper, if such situations arose, Apara was the one who usually handled them.

I walked out of our apartment, remembering to take my phone and keys with me. The corridor wasn't as hot as my bedroom, but it was still not cool by any means. I checked my phone. It was 3:30 AM and the temperature outside was 38 Celsius. Ouch! No wonder. Pulling at my sweat soaked t-shirt to air it out, I walked to the front desk, which was just around the corner.*

I was half-expecting to see Apara there. But it was Pepe, a guy who occasionally filled the night shift. The 20 year old Mexican immigrant inhaled deeply when he saw me.

"Meester Hitesh!" he said loudly.

"Pepe." I nodded yawning and rubbing my eyes. "Is 106 still empty?"

If I had to choose a room, that was the best. It was the closest to our apartment. And it had the newest and strongest AC. But even as the manager with the master key, I couldn't just walk in. I had to make sure it hadn't been given to some guest.

"Que?" he said, looking either confused or scared.

I grimaced. Growing up in India, I used to think everyone in America speaks great English. It was only after I moved to the small Texas town close to the Mexican border that I realized that there were probably more English speakers in any random Gujarati town. I never understood the logic behind having a guy with zero grasp of English working at the night desk. What if someone who only spoke English showed up in the middle of the night? Apara brushed those concerns away saying, that situation in our region was highly unlikely.

"Uno....zero.....cinco." *I said trying to remember the Spanish numbers. I didn't really know too many words. Apara had grown up in Arizona and was fluent in Spanish, so if a situation arose when the language had to be spoken, she handled it.

"Uno cero cinco." He nodded.

"Is it still empty?"

"Emp....tee?"*

"Ocupado?" I said, hoping it was the right word for occupied.

He understood. Looked at the computer screen.*

"Uno cero cinco......no ocupado."

"Okay, I am going there to sleep."

[ddey333]

I reached over the counter for the keyboard, turned the monitor to face me, and changed 106 to occupied, hoping that it would be nice and cool. I made sure I had my master key card with me and walked away. A few steps and I stopped. I turned around.

"Where is Apara?"

"Apara...."

"My wife. Apara."

"No se." he shrugged. He didn't know. He was turning the monitor around to face him and looking at it.

"She didn't come here?"

"No se, jefe." he shrugged again.*

I shrugged too. My guess was, my light sleeper wife had woken up because of the broken AC much before me, had the same idea, and moved to a guest room. I was about to turn into the long hallway at the end of the reception area and was about to turn right towards 106 when I thought I heard Pepe mutter to himself.

"Merde! Uno cero seis!" and then he said to me loudly. "LAVENDARIA!!"

"What?

"Miss Apara.....lavendaria." he said very urgently.

"She is in the laundry room?"

"Si."

"Why is she in the laundry room?"

"Laundry room. You go. You see."

This was weird. Why was she in the laundry room in the middle of the night? Maybe some machine had broken? Maybe she could use my help. I turned around, because the laundry room was all the way at the end of the other hallway. Pepe stared at me as I walked towards it. And just as I was about to walk out of earshot, I got the feeling he picked up the phone and dialed some numbers. But I didn't think much about it. At that time.

It took me almost a minute to walk all the way to the laundry room. When I opened it and walked in, I was confused. It was completely dark. I turned the lights on and looked around. There was no one in the room. At that time, I thought maybe there had been an error in our English-Spanish communication. I yawned, closed the door and turned back to head over to room 106.*

[ddey333]

I stepped inside the room. Ah, nice and cold, with the AC cranked up to high. Didn't even bother turning the light on. Just as I sat on the bed, I heard the bathroom door open. And instantly jumped up. What the hell? The room was occupied? How was I going to explain my presence there in the middle of the night? But before I could say anything, the light streaming out of the bathroom illuminated the figure that stepped out.

"Apara?"

"Hitesh?"

"What are you doing here?" she said, looking around the room.

"What are YOU doing here?"

"I came here to sleep because of the AC." I said.*

"I just came to check on the shower in this room. One of the maids said the knob was wobbly." she said. "What happened to the AC?"

"It stopped working." I said.

"The AC is fine, Hitesh." she pointed to it.

"Not this one. The one in our apartment. Stopped working. The bedroom got really hot. I woke up drenched in sweat. So I decided to move to this room. I thought that's what you did too. That's why you weren't in the room."

"Yes, yes. The AC in our room. That's right." she said and walked towards me.*

I stared at my wife. She was dressed differently than when we had gone to bed earlier in the night. At that time she was in a t-shirt and pyjamas. Now she was in a tank top and a skirt.

"When I went to the front desk to confirm this room was empty, Pepe said you were in the laundry room." I said as she sat on the bed next to me.

"Yes, I was in the laundry room because the maid also said one of the machines was not working. Then I went to one of the other rooms to check on some thing there." I felt her hand on my arm and then move to my chest. "And then Pepe told me you are in this room. So I came here."

And suddenly I felt her teeth at my ear. She nibbled at it and then pulled my face into a kiss. This was a pleasant surprise. Usually Apara never made the first move in bed. Many times when I did, she said she was either too tired or had a headache. We had sex maybe once a week or so. And it hadn't yet been a full year since we got married. So this gesture from her pushed all other thoughts out of my head.

I grabbed the back of her head and kissed her back. She kissed me very passionately. Much more so than usual. I thought I detected an unusual scent in her breath. With her right hand, Apara grabbed my shirt and pulled me on top of her. I reached under her skirt to pull down her panties, and was surprised when I fingers directly touched her bare pussy. That made me pause.

Apara paused in the middle of the kiss and giggled.

"I took them off in the bathroom. To prepare for you."

"But you...." I was going to ask her something when I felt her other hand reach into my shorts and grab my hardening dick.

And soon I was completely on top of her, thrusting my dick in her warm and wet vagina. I pulled up her tank top and played with her big jiggling boobs.*

"Yes....yes....just like that....harder....come on, harder." she said, biting my shoulder.

I complied, banging her even harder.*

"Kiss me!" she hoarsely said and pulled my face down. And then I felt her ankles lock behind my back and pull me in.*

I felt my wife's tongue probe all over the inside of my mouth as our thighs slapped against each other. I could feel my orgasm approaching. I grabbed her boobs harder and started pounding her even faster.*I was on cloud nine. Was this really happening? Such amazing sex, with Apara acting like an animal in heat? This is how I had always imagined it! It took a year but finally, our sexual chemistry seemed to be clicking.

-----------------------------------

[ddey333]

Apara and my marriage was an arranged one, and like many, was a marriage of convenience and compromise.*

I am originally from Ahmedabad, born in a lower middle class family, the son of a grocery store owner, and the grandson of a grocery store owner. Growing up, I was never too academically inclined. Like many Gujaratis, I always wanted to be an entrepreneur. So after getting a simple bachelors degree in commerce from a mid-level college, I tried my hand at striking it big in business. With a couple of friends, I first tried to open a gym. It was an ambitious plan. Our respective parents financed it and put a lot of faith in us. But we had overestimated the demand for fitness and underestimated the competition. In three years, it shut down.

One of those friends got married to a girl in the US and moved there. The two of us who remained, decided to open a big internet cafe. Back then, they were in high demand. But along came smart phones, and our revenues or profits weren't able to keep us going for long. Yet another business failure. And then another.*

Before I knew it, I was 36, starting to lose my hair, my pudgy body getting even pudgier, with no real career or business, helping my father out at the grocery store, seemingly destined to follow in his footsteps. I was also unmarried. Not being very good looking or charming, I had never been able to get any girl to say yes to me in the romance/dating context, which was already rare in our conventional community. A few attempts at arranged marriage had also fallen through because of those business failures.

And then my mother came to know of the Apara prospect through our caste's match-making service. Apparently her family was keen on a husband from the same caste. Like my own marriage resume, her's seemed to have some flaws, which is probably why she was unmarried at 34.

From the pictures, she looked nice enough. Let's say, above average. Not a drop-dead gorgeous hottie and slightly plump, but a nice face, and from what I could see, well-stacked. She was born in Baroda, but at age 3, lost both her parents in an accident. Her uncle and aunt had adopted her, taken her to the US and raised her there. She had dropped out of college after a couple of years, and from what I heard, worked for her uncle who owned 3 motels in Texas.

What made the proposal really enticing was that it came with a job offer. The uncle was about to buy a 4th motel and whoever married Apara would be the manager. We would get an apartment in the motel, rent-free, and a combined salary of 35,000 US dollars. And after a few years, he would loan us money to start our own motel if we wanted. And needless to say, because Apara was a US citizen, her husband would instantly get a green card, and in 3 years, full citizenship.*

My father was very gung ho about it. My mother had just one concern - why is this girl unmarried at 34? And having grown up in the US, what kind of a "past" does she have? My father brushed those concerns off saying, well, our own son is 36 and unmarried. And we know it's not because of some shady past, but just bad luck. So her uncle was approached.

Unsurprisingly, mine was one of about two dozen proposals she got from within our caste. The lure of an easy green card is hard to resist, especially in Gujarat. I apparently made it to the "shortlist" of five. Then the family came down to Ahmedabad to meet the prospective grooms. When our families met, Apara herself didn't say much. But I was pleased to see that she was nice looking in person too. A little darker complexion than in the pictures, but otherwise, very nice. And yes, definitely well-stacked.*

It was the uncle who talked the most. I felt like it was a job interview. And it was completely in English. He asked me about my two failed businesses, why they failed, what I had learned from them, and so on. After two hours, they left, and said they would let us know.

In five days, we got the call. I had been "selected". Later the uncle told me I had been selected because my English was very good. And I had experience in the service industry, and from our conversation, he was convinced the failures were mainly because of bad luck. There was no mention made of why I would be a good husband for his niece, or whether Apara had any say in the matter.

Both families started preparing for the wedding. Our relatives met their relatives. There were a lot of functions, in true Gujarati tradition. Apara and I got to spend some time together, but rarely alone. There was always some family member or other with us.

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Throughout all this, I was a little bothered by how Apara seemed almost........disinterested in the whole thing. Don't get me wrong. She wasn't sulking or depressed or anything. And of course, in arranged marriages, the bride and groom are a bit subdued. But still, it seemed like something was off. So after one function, as the family was going back to their hotel and everyone was saying their goodnights, I spoke up.

"Can I...talk to Apara alone for a little while?"*

Suddenly everyone in the family fell silent. The uncle looked at me.

"About what?"

"Just....like that." I said nervously. My dad gave me a look as if to say, why are you trying to ruin this?

"For how long?"

"Ten minutes? We'll just take a short walk around the block."

"Hmmm...OK. We will be in the car." He looked at Apara and nodded. And I thought I detected a stern 'behave yourself' kind of a look. She lowered her eyes and walked towards me.

I took a dozen steps down the road, with her by my side. But I couldn't think of anything to say. I had no idea about how to start a conversation with a woman I would be spending the rest of my life with.

"Are you......happy with this?" I finally said in Gujarati.

"Sure." she said in a nonchalant tone.*

Silence for a few seconds.

"Are you happy?" she asked.

"Me? Yes, of course I am." I said. "I just....I don't know....I found it strange that we are about to get married and we haven't had a one on one conversation yet."

"Isn't that how it's supposed to work in our community? It's the families that do everything before the marriage?"*

"Well, yeah. But still. We can talk and spend some time together alone. It's not like the 1800s anymore."

She let out a short derisive laugh.

"If you say so."

We walked a little more. I was having trouble coming up with the next sentence.

"What are you thinking about?" Apara asked.

"Nothing." I said.

"Should we turn back?" she stopped.

I stayed silent and looked at her. She looked back at me with the same prosaic expression I had gotten used to. And then suddenly, there was a spark in her eyes and she half-smiled. For a second she looked back at the car with her family, about 500 feet away from us. The uncle was standing and looking at us. Then there was a flash of emotion on her face.

"Are you trying to summon the courage to ask me if I am a virgin or not?"

"What???" I was taken aback.

"Isn't that supposed to be a big deal? Especially when it's someone who's grown up in corrupt godless America."

In a way, this first ever open expression of thoughts was refreshing. But it was also disconcerting. Women in my family or my community didn't talk like this.

"No." I said. "I mean, yes, it is supposed to be a big deal. But for me personally.....I don't care."

"Don't care? Or have you just assumed I am not a virgin....and are okay with it because you get a job and a green card in return?"

"I......." she was sort of right.

"Well, for your information, you assumed right." she said, smiled, and started walking back.*

I walked back with her, in silence.

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Back in Room 106.

"Ohhhh yes....yes....harder....harder...." she was saying in her Texan drawl.

And then I started shooting my cum inside her. And she stopped talking. Put her right hand on my chest and unlocked her legs from behind me. Spent, I gently kissed her and rolled off.*

Before I could say anything, she jumped off the bed and ran to the bathroom. I used tissues from the night stand to clean myself. And as the exhilaration of sex wore off, some thoughts that had been pushed to the side started making their way back.

I closed my eyes and thought about the conversation we had before she initiated sex for the first time ever in our marriage. A few things didn't add up.*

She did not seem to know initially that the AC in our room was broken. She said she had just come here to check the shower. And seemed surprised to see me in the room. But later said she had taken her panties off in the bathroom in preparation for me. And she had changed from her usual night garb into a tank top and a skirt. She rarely, if ever, wore those clothes.*

All these thoughts were swirling in my head, and the implication was too much to contemplate. Had she been lying to me? If so, why? Why was her story so mixed up? And then I thought about my interaction with Pepe. He initially seemed almost shocked to see me. And his English seemed even worse than usual. It could be because it was the middle of the night and he was groggy. But still.*

And then I thought about how I mixed up the Spanish words for five and six. When he thought I was going to room 105, he was fine with it. But then he saw the screen and probably noticed that I was going to 106, which was across from it. And then he suddenly sent me on the long trek to the laundry room.*

A few minutes later, she walked out of the bathroom. Her demeanor was very different from earlier. She was back to being her inert self. Without making eye contact with me, she walked to the other side of the bed.*

"I'll call the AC repairman tomorrow." she said, getting under the sheets.

"OK." I said.

I thought about questioning her a bit more about the story. but then, thought better of it. Soon she was asleep. But I stayed awake, thinking about all these things in a loop.

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At 5:30 my daily alarm rang. I reached for my phone and silenced it. It was time to put out the breakfast and relieve Pepe. As I headed to the bathroom, I sensed that Apara was also stirring. I came out of the bathroom a few minutes later and turned the light on. Apara was sitting up in bed looking at her phone. As I walked towards the bed, she got up from it and started walking towards me.*

And then I stopped and looked at the floor. There were two socks there. Apara also noticed them. Her jaw seemed to tighten.

"Whose socks are these?" I said.

"Aren't they yours?"*

"No."

"Maybe the previous guests forgot them." she said picking them up.

"I thought the maid had already cleaned the room."

"Oh you know how they can be." she shrugged and laughed. "Anyway, I'll go change and then start the coffee machine."

And she almost ran out of the room.

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So you see, in certain ways, the story starts that night. At least from my perspective. It was the first time ever that I had real suspicions that my wife may be cheating on me. I had no concrete proof and of course, maybe there was some other explanation, but that's when the worm of suspicion first entered my head.

As I thought back to the almost one year before that, I realized that this change wasn't exactly overnight.

Although I am from a conventional and orthodox family, with traditional moral values, I am also a realist. I knew that I could not expect a woman who had grown up in the United States, no matter how chaste her family, to be as docile and homely as someone who grew up in India. And she had even confirmed that she was not a virgin. But I had still expected some level of decency, soberness, and even obedience.

After we got married and moved to Texas, she started showing her true colors very soon. Again, nothing extreme initially if you have a modern upper middle class mindset. But those were big changes for me. For example, in my family, all women wore saris or salwar kameez. Before the marriage, Apara had also been dressed that way. But when we moved to the hotel and started our life together, those traditional clothes became less and less frequent with each passing day.

She gradually went from wearing Indian clothes every day to wearing them every alternate day, down to almost once a week. What she started wearing wasn't scandalous by Texas standards or frankly, even Ahmedabad standards - jeans, trousers, blouses, long skirts, western dresses etc. The streets of India are full of women who dress that way. It's just not something I was used to seeing in the house. But I didn't say anything. When in Rome, do as the Romans.

As time went by, I also realized that her personality was quite dominant and assertive, at least with me. When her uncle and aunt were around, she was always very quiet and obedient. After moving to Texas, we spent the first week at their house. She was like the typical Gujarati housewife then, being silent, respectful, staying confined to house work. But after we moved to the motel, she started being more independent. Again, nothing radical. But she was a lot more involved in the decision making, even taking the lead on many decisions. One small example is that she insisted on driving most of the time, saying I was not used to American rules. In my family, none of the women drove.

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In running the business too, she was asserting herself. I had gone there with the understanding that I would be the manager, running the business side of things. And she would take care of housekeeping stuff like laundry, cleaning rooms, cooking etc. She still did the housekeeping things of course. But was acting like a co-manager with me, deciding shift schedules, setting prices, etc. One time we had a little argument about this.

"Hitesh....I see the price in the system is set at 150 dollars a night for the next weekend." she said one night.

"Yes, I read there is a rodeo contest nearby. So there will be high demand."

"There will be, but 150 is too high. 125 will be better. Or we won't sell out. That's roughly how much our competition is charging."

"No, I heard some fifty thousand people come for it."

"I know. Still, we should change it to 125."

"150 is fine." I gruffly said, with a tone of finality.

I saw anger flash in her eyes as she said,

"I am the one who has grown up here. I am the one who has grown up in the motel business. But you think you know more than me in just a few months?"

"Apara!!" I raised my voice, sounding like my father.

"Whatever." and she stormed away.

In the end, she was proven right. We only sold about half hour rooms that weekend whereas other motels were packed. On the last day, I decided to drop prices down to 100 dollars to salvage some business.

I had started off with that traditional mindset of the man knowing the best. That's how it worked in my family. My mother never disagreed or questioned my father on anything. However, I realized soon that Apara was indeed more experienced and knowledgeable than me about the business. So I slowly started making peace with the fact that she would be an equal decision maker.

Another aspect of her behavior and personality that I found unusual was how friendly and chatty she was in general, but particularly with men. Be it guests who were checking in, or the guys who worked for us, or other casual acquaintances, she spoke to them for a lot longer than I would have expected. In my family and social circle, women only talked this much to men who were related to them. With strangers, especially working class people like clerks, plumbers, delivery men, repair men etc, the women barely interacted. So I found it strange how she could have 5-10 minute long conversations, often full of giggles and jokes, with these kind of people.

I noticed that America was in general a more chatty country than India. Even strangers chat so much. They call it "small talk" I think. And America doesn't have that social barrier between men and women that we do in conservative Gujarati society. So it wasn't unusual considering that she had grown up here. But still, it wasn't something I was used to, and it bothered me.

And what additionally made those conversations bother me was the fact that most of them were in Spanish. I was still not used to how dominant Spanish was in South Texas, It almost felt as if we were in Mexico. So I would be around Apara while she chatted with them in fluent and rapid Spanish. And I had no idea what they were discussing.

So by the time that night in room 106 happened, there was already a lot of discomfort that had built up. Growing up in an orthodox Gujarati family, I had certain expectations of how a woman and that too a wife should behave. Maybe some rich modernized guys from Mumbai or Delhi might have been okay with it, but it rankled to me. Of course, I didn't say anything. Just kept everything to myself. Even with all these small hiccups, things were on the whole good. I was in America, the land of opportunities. I had a green card and would soon be a citizen. And my kids would grow up here and have a better future than I ever did.

 
I don't want to come across as very whinny or thankless. Yes, all these aspects of Apara's behavior bothered me. But not enough to really make my life miserable. She wasn't exactly what I expected, but she was still a good wife, all things considered. She cooked for me, cleaned the home, took care of all the household work, helped me run the business. Was quite good looking too, and had a nice body. And sex with her, although not always as mind blowing as that one night, was still satisfying.

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I mean, it satisfied me. Apara had dropped the bombshell that she was not a virgin. She never asked me the same question, so I never volunteered the information that I actually was. Yes, until my mid-30s, I had never had sex. I was never able to get a girlfriend. And unlike some of my other friends, I never had the courage or the inclination to go to brothels or hire call girls. I was brought up being told that pre-marital sex was bad, prostitutes were unclean, and sex should only be had after marriage. So as much as I felt tempted, I ended up saving my virginity for my wife.

So until the first night I spent with Apara, I had no first hand experience of sex or of even kissing a girl. All I knew about sex was what I had seen in porn and movies and books. All I knew about sexual pleasure was what I got from masturbation. My close friends knew this about me, but it's not like they themselves were Casanovas. Some of them had only been with prostitutes. Others, only with their wives, who themselves were virgins. So before my wedding night, I got a lot of advice from these friends, but most of it was confusing and conflicting. I searched for advice online, and found even more conflicting and confusing information.

Don't get me wrong. It's not like I was ignorant of basic anatomy or what goes where. I had watched enough porn to know that. I wasn't sure exactly what to do. Like....should I just start taking her clothes off? How long do I kiss? Is it okay to touch her breasts? We are practically strangers after all. What if she doesn't want me? Do I look good naked? Does my paunch make me ugly? Is my dick big enough? So on and so forth.

All my friends who were married, had married virgins. Or at least that's what they told me. So if they were confused, so were the wives. At least they took this journey together. Here I was marrying a woman who grew up in America and had already said she wasn't a virgin. When had she first had sex? How many times had she had sex? With how many men? Even if it was just once with one man, that still made her infinitely more experienced than me. So maybe she could sort of take the lead and teach me things.

So when I went to the ostentatiously decorated bedroom on wedding night, my heart was thudding against my rib cage. I was nervous. My mouth was dry with fear. And my friends and cousins, who were coming along to drop me to the door, weren't making things easy. Comments like, don't worry man, I am sure you will make her shriek like a banshee, just follow your instincts, make her beg for more, easy on those big boobs, etc.

I finally entered the room and shut the door behind me. Maybe it's all the movies and books, but I was expecting her to be sitting demurely on the bed, with her pallu pulled over her face. Instead, she was lying down on the rose petal covered bed, one leg folded up in the knee, checking her phone. When I walked in, she gave me a polite smile, the kind an air hostess gives you when you step onto the plane. And then went back to looking at her phone. I felt less like her husband and more like an intruder. Regardless, I forged ahead. Sitting on the bed, I asked her,

"Kem chho....how are you?"

What a stupid question to ask.

"Fine. A little tired." she said, not taking her eyes off the phone.

"Yeah, I am also tired."

"It is exhausting standing so much, smiling for all those people, and bending down and touching feet of so many relatives."

"Very true." I said. And then had no idea what to say.

She took her eyes off the phone and looked at me with an inert expression. I did the same. It looked at the clock on the wall.

"It is past midnight." I said.

"Yes, it is."

"If you are tired and all, you should sleep." I had no idea why I said that. I had been insanely waiting for this moment my whole life. My first sexual experience. And I had just offered to postpone it.

"Are you sure?" she arched her eyebrows.

"Yeah...I am tired too." I said.

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A few moments later, the room was dark, and I was on my back staring at the ceiling and cursing myself. Apara had turned over on her left side and was facing away from me. What the hell was going on? For the first time in my life, I had an actual woman with me in bed. One who was legally married to me. One who was supposed to be my sexual partner. And I was just there next to her like some idiot? What must she be thinking?

Well, she is experienced. Maybe she will make the first move, I thought, optimistically. Twenty minutes later, no such luck. In fact I could hear from the sound of her breathing that she was asleep. Ten more minutes passed. Then I felt some movement. She rolled over on her right side and was now facing me. But her eyes were still closed. And she was still sleeping. By now, my eyes had gotten used to the darkness. And I was excited to note that as she had rolled over, her sari's pallu had fallen away. Right there, a few inches from my eyes, was her ample chest, covered by her embroidered blouse.

I stared at it in wonderment. She really did have big breasts. I could make out their shape straining against the fabric. It was a conventional wedding blouse, so there was no cleavage on display. But just whatever I was seeing was enticing enough to make my dick respond. Should I touch one, I thought. Of course, she is my wife now. It's my right. But she is sleeping. So what? It is her duty to make you happy. I debated like this with myself for a while, my erection growing by the minute. Finally I decided to do it.

My hand was trembling as I raised it and placed it on her left breast. Soft but also a little firm, I thought to myself. Her breathing changed and her eyes opened. For a second, I thought like she wanted to pull away. Maybe she didn't instantly recognize me. We were practically strangers in a dark room. But she probably resisted the impulse. I thought I saw the edges of her lips widen a little, as if she was smiling. She looked into my eyes. I looked into hers. My hand was still on her breast. She hadn't moved it away. So I felt a little more confident. Putting pressure with my fingers, I pressed her boob. Again, soft and firm.

Isn't she supposed to also do something, I thought. In the porn movies I had seen, women were very enthusiastic. I knew traditional Indian women aren't like this, but she was supposed to be different. But she didn't move. It was up to me. I kept pressing that breast for a few more seconds. Then I felt the other one and pressed it too. My erection was now the hardest it had ever been.

And then suddenly, something came over me. Maybe it was millennia of male instinct hard-wired into my DNA. Maybe it was my horniness pent up for three and a half decades. Maybe it was lust. But I found my limbs moving on their own. I sat up and pushed her over on her back. I reached behind her blouse to open it. It had a zipper. I pulled it down.

"Take it off." I said in a hoarse voice. She complied.

Now her breasts were covered only by a red bra. And I now saw her cleavage. It looked even better than I had imagined it. Because her breasts were bigger than I had imagined them. And so perfect. I ran a finger down her cleavage and with the other hand reached behind her. I had never unhooked a bra before. So it took me almost a minute to figure out exactly how it worked. I thought she chuckled a little at my struggles. But didn't help me. Finally I got it open and pulled the bra off her shoulders.

Oh wow! Look at those boobs! They are so perfect. Those nipples....wow! Oh man, I am actually looking at real naked breasts. Of my wife. I can touch them skin to skin now. I am going to do that. Yes, I am going to do that. I have done that. This feels so amazing. Wait....what's happening down there? No no no! Not already! Wait!!!

A few minutes before I was being led to the bedroom, one of my oldest friends, who was married, pulled me aside.

"Hitu....go to the bathroom and jack off first."

"What???"

"I am serious. Do it."

"Are you insane? I just got married. I am going for my...."

"Yes yes, I know what you are going for. That's why I am telling you. This is the first time you will be with a naked woman. Trust me, you don't want to.....you know....premature ejaculation?"

"Shut up! I don't have that problem. When I am watching porn....."

"Porn is different. That's just visual stuff. This is going to be a three dimensional warm body. Naked. Trust me. Drain the snake."

"You're crazy." I laughed and walked away.

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That had been almost an hour before.

Now his words made sense. Apara seemed a bit confused when I suddenly stopped my frantic attack on her breasts and rolled off the bed.

"What happened?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"I just....I mean....I have to....I'll be right back."

I ran to the bathroom, with an uncomfortable mess in my underwear.

When I got back a few minutes later after cleaning up, I saw that Apara was still topless. But had fallen asleep. Her naked breasts rose and fell with each breath. She looked so pretty to me at that moment. I was tempted to resume where I had left off. But I felt guilty and also a little ashamed. This is the sort of stuff that is supposed to happen to 18 year olds, not a grown-up like me. How was I to know my body would react this way?

I got back in bed and laid down on my side, watching her face and her heaving breasts. Better get used to this, I told myself. Let's not repeat this again. And I fell asleep while watching her boobs.

 
So that was how my first ever sexual experience with my wife unfolded. And it left me feeling even more anxious than I already was. That was the wedding night, which was THE socially sanctioned night we had alone. And I had made a mess of it, literally. When I woke up in the morning, Apara was already dressed in different clothes. That day, my friends and cousins cornered me to ask me about details. I didn't want to tell them the truth. So I just played coy and hinted that it had been great.

We didn't get an opportunity to spend a night alone together after that for a few days. We had only a few days until we left for the US. Now that she was married to me, she spent those days at our house. But it was a relatively small house. We didn't get much privacy, because a lot of relatives who had come for the wedding had stayed behind to spend more time in Ahmedabad. So we had 4-5 people sleeping in each room, and there was no chance of any sexual activity.

When we flew to the US, we spent the first week at her uncle's house. It was a nice house, but not as big or spacious as I had expected. Plus they had kids and family members of their own. There simply weren't enough rooms. And after all, you must remember that she was their niece, not daughter. Apara and I slept on a pull-out couch in the living room that week. So obviously, there was no privacy to get too intimate.

Anyway, in that first week, there was too much going on work-wise to think too much about all this. As soon as we landed in the US, Uncle started treating me more like a business associate than a son-in-law. There had been no actual honeymoon, but the honeymoon was already over. He took us to the motel, and started explaining how all the systems worked, what different aspects of business I had to take care of, what the competition was, and so on. It was like a week-long crash course in motel management. I had to meet the old owners and learn all the details. Apara was by my side through all this, but it felt more like we were business partners than husband and wife.

We would wake up early, she would drive us to the motel. Then we would spend all day there, learning the ropes, working out the formalities, observing the operations, and so on. Until late night when we would return to uncle's house exhausted, crash on the pull-out couch and fall asleep right away.

The real transition happened when the old owners finally did the formal handover. Uncle now owned the restaurant. And Apara and I were the managers. The old owners were also a Gujarati couple from our caste that was retiring and going to live with their son in New Jersey. They had owned and also run the place for over twenty years. As a result, they happily left us all the furniture they had in the manager's apartment.

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My first tinge of disappointment was with how small that manager's apartment was. The way it had been described initially, I thought it would be a proper sized apartment, with one or two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, etc. Instead it was basically a big hotel room converted into an apartment. There was a bedroom and separated by an artificial wall, there was a small kitchen. And a single small bathroom with a tub-shower and a toilet in the same space. The whole thing was less than 500 square feet. It was close to the reception area and a small office. Because its main purpose was for the manager to constantly be accessible at reception.

People often wonder why we Gujaratis dominate the motel business in America. The biggest reason is that we are one of the few communities who are willing to put in so much hard work for such small amount of money, just to make it America. Most motels are very simple. There are a bunch of rooms. There is no restaurant or kitchen or anything like in hotels in India. The staff is very minimal. Customers check in, go to the room, spend the night, and leave. Most customers are people driving from one city to another and stopping over. Or visiting budget tourists or professionals looking for the cheapest room.

So basically, a hard-working couple living on the premises can manage the whole thing with very little extra help. All you need to do is have someone at the reception, clean the rooms, and put out a very simple free continental breakfast of bread, muffins, corn flakes, sausages and boiled eggs. And some coffee. With a husband and wife working on the hotel, a lot of these duties are taken care of. With each of us capable of working 16 hours a day, most of the reception and accounting related shifts in a 24 hour day are taken care of. You hire someone at minimum wage for the extra shift. You hire one or two maids for the extra cleaning. And that's it. Very low operating costs and overheads, which means higher margins.

The more I learned about how everything worked, the more I realized what a cunningly smart deal Uncle had made by hiring us. He was paying us $35,000 a year. Apara and I were both working pretty much every waking hour in one way or another - either sitting at the reception or managing employees or housekeeping or accounting or breakfast or whatever. So about 16 hours a day. We got just one day off each, and that too not at the same time.

Let's calculate then. 16 hours each from the two of us, for 6 days a week, for about 48 weeks a year (we were allowed 4 weeks of vacation). Texas minimum wage is $7.25, so even at that minimum wage, it comes to almost $67,000. And that's minimum wage. We were doing manager type work. Even with the free tiny apartment we were getting, the $35,000 salary was a steal for Uncle, who kept all the profits. In one way, I admired his business savvy. But I also felt resentful that I was being exploited this way. It was still too early to negotiate a pay hike though.

So anyway.....we moved into the hotel, took charge. Worked insane hours. That was when Apara started asserting her managerial abilities. We had retained most of the employees from the earlier owners. And they were all Mexican immigrants with very limited English skills. Uncle told me that if you want to hire someone fluent in both languages, you have to pay them more. So she was best equipped to talk to them, check on them, and so on.

The first day as managers was predictably hectic. After spending 16 hours at the reception, I was relieved by a night clerk, and I headed to our apartment, exhausted. Apara was still in the laundry room. By the time she came back, I was asleep. The next night, it was the opposite. After I made my way back after doing some inventory, she was asleep.

It was only on the third night that we were together and awake. It was past midnight. I was sitting on the bed, going over some old accounting records. She walked in, tired but also very pretty in a salwar kameez.

"I'm going to change." she said, wiping sweat from her forehead. It had been a hot day.

I nodded and watched as she headed to the closet and took out a t-shirt and pyjamas. She stopped a second and looked at me. Then looked at the bathroom door. I could see what she was thinking. We were husband and wife. But we were also like new acquaintances. Should she just change in front of me or go to the bathroom? She took a couple of steps towards the bathroom.

"You can change here if you want." I said. "I will look away if you feel shy."

"Hehe, you don't have to look away. We are married, after all." she said giggling.

She paused. Then walked towards the bed close to me and kept the clothes on it. Then looking at me with a half smile, she pulled off her kameez. This time the light was on, and I got to see her glorious bra-covered breasts and cleavage again. She then untied the knot on her salwar. I inhaled audibly as it dropped to the floor, revealing her smooth legs and her black panties. My dick started coming to life as I watched my busty wife's body the most exposed yet. And I admired how great it looked. She was slightly plump, but the curves were in all the right places.

She just stood there in her bra and panties for a few seconds, as if expecting something. I was just ogling her, thanking my stars for landing such a hot wife.