Note: This pandemic gave me a chance to explore some new plot points in this story. So here's another part. It's a story about an open marriage and a slutwife. If that bothers you, skip this.
In the past, my stories generally ended soon after the wife breaks her marriage vows, because the tension leading up to it was what I enjoyed writing. Some other writers continued my stories about the aftermath. I myself did it with the Construction stories.
Here's a similar attempt to see what could be the possible fallouts of Menaka's transformation. You don't absolutely have to read previous parts, but it is recommended. Because this chapter is long but low on sexual details (compared to previous parts) and high on conversations. I'm trying to explore the characters and some taboos. And just exploring what love, marriage, companionship, loyalty exactly mean. In my small pervy way.
Remember, this is just a fictional erotic story so by definition, meant to titillate and provoke, far fetched and depraved. Also it was written in lockdown times so some parts might be darker than my usual stories. Just a heads up if you need trigger warnings. :)
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The first real pang of insecurity I felt about my marriage was when Menaka came home from the hospital one day sporting a brand new nose ring.
Which in itself was not a red flag. Menaka often wore nose rings, but on her left nostril, as was traditional in our community. This ring was an ornate one in her septum. Something I had only seen in tribal documentaries.
"That looks like it was painful." I said.
"Yeah." She simply answered. And gave me that look which indicated that she preferred not to talk more about it.
That's how we had weathered the uncertainty of the month since I returned from the ship right after that eventful night on the roof for my wife. Menaka had asked me to respect her privacy and trust her to tell me things at her own pace. She herself was trying to come to terms with the massive changes in herself in the past few months.
Since I had been mostly kept in the loop by her, and had in fact encouraged her to seek other lovers like I did, I had no rationale to press her for more. Given that I had secretly installed cameras all over and kept tabs and could have stopped this whole chain of events with a single phone call.
And I still held that veto power. Menaka had said repeatedly that I had to just say the word and she will stop all sexual adventures and return to being the monogamous housewife she used to be. But I could sense that she did not really want it. She was in this now, and keen to continue this journey of self-exploration. And I could not bring myself to be the reason for her to stop, even if I had started worrying about my wife drifting away from me emotionally.
After she went for her regular post hospital shower, I googled Nepali nose rings. Sure enough, that's what she was wearing. A symbol of her dedication or maybe even love towards her older Nepali lover Dara. She had been utterly honest when I asked her, do you love him. She had said yes, but not in the same way as me. And her first priority was always me. And I had absolute veto power.
But having entered the marriage with a perpetual hall pass from her, I could see neither the justification nor the need to act possessive.
So I made my peace with the fact that my wife would be going to the hospital everyday to spend at least a couple of hours with this other man in her life. I dropped her off and picked her up the first few days. But then she said she'd feel more comfortable just taking a cab. I gave her space on the Dara time. I was sure she did some hanky panky there and occasionally gave me updates. But I largely left her be.
I did pick up on some rumblings among the neighbors though. Like the way they used to look at us and seemingly whisper something amongst themselves. And then a neighbor made a snide comment to me about how everyone appreciates Menaka visiting the watchman in hospital and helping out. The tone seemed to suggest that he thought my wife and the watchman were having an affair. I saw Banke also often talking to people. I wondered if he was spreading the word too. It was true after all so I didn't know what could be done about it. I myself didn't really care what other people thought or said. Menaka used to. But if she was fine with it, who was I to interfere?
"Listen, I'll be a little late. Have something to do." Menaka called me one evening after visiting hours at the hospital ended.
"Oh, what is it?"
"Nothing. I'll tell you later. Just pick up Ayan from tennis practice." There was a finality in her tone that suggested she was done talking.
"Okay."
I said. And then I heard faintly in the background, a male voice whisper right before the phone cut out,
"Kya jhanjhat bra hai" (what a complicated bra)
So my wife was being undressed right now by someone! It didn't sound like Dara. And I had just seen Banke in the building. So it had to be either the maid's husband and brother. Or maybe she had taken yet another lover.
For the first time in a while, I felt that strange nervousness of ignorance. Since installing the cameras, I had pretty much a ringside view of the action. And her emails and conversations would fill in the details. From far away.
But right now, maybe just a kilometer away from me, my wife was having her bra removed by some man whose identity I did not know. That gave me a strange kind of nervous chill and also turned me on. My wife the slut. Just casually telling me to pick up our son so she could bang someone. She was so much like me.
I picked Ayan up, fed him, got him showered etc. I was wondering if I should order food for dinner when the door opened and in walked Menaka with a couple of grocery bags.
She was in a T-shirt and a long skirt and looked very radiant. Her increasingly common just-fucked look with a pink hue on her cheeks.
"I'll start dinner." She said and headed to the kitchen. I followed her.
"So?"
"So?" She replied washing the vegetables.
"Anything new to share? What were you up to?"
She was silent for a couple of minutes. I didn't press more. I knew my wife well enough to know that she would eventually share. At her own pace. She was having internal moral struggles of her own everyday.
"I was with a man. A new one. The hospital security guard. It wasn't my choice. More like blackmail."
"Ok..."
Menaka waited as if to give me time to yell at her if I wanted. And a part of me did want to. Not about the sex. I didn't care if half the town humped my wife as long as it was just casual and consensual. But she seemed to suddenly be in a series of blackmail induced sexual encounters which are not good for personal safety. I held my tongue for now. She continued.
"It's my fault. Usually if I... do something with Dara.... I make sure Vimla is on guard outside. Today she couldn't make it. I was there. He was.... Very hard. Usually not many people came around that ward then. We took a risk. Got caught by the security guard. You can fill in the rest."
My brain was already conjuring up images for it. Is that why she had worn the long skirt, not something she usually wore? So she could sit on top of the hard dick of our bedridden watchman? I gently stroked her butt over her skirt and noted that she was not wearing panties. She half smiled at my touch, as if knowing exactly what I was checking. I imagined her feeling horny, checking the corridor to make sure it was empty. Then slipping her panties off and climbing on top of him and riding him. The skirt providing some modesty to the lovers. Her riding him as he looked at that new nose ring that symbolized the hold that he had over her. This young hot high class woman who was going everyday to be his bedside and on him. Maybe he had her tits out. A security guard walks in. Threesome?
One thing that had fascinated me during frequent rewatches of that weekend's events is how quickly Menaka had shrugged off the blackmail element from the maid's husband and Banke's betrayal and thrown herself into the sex. Watching the later hours, especially after Dara was taken to the hospital, took some time. I needed privacy which was hard to get unless she went to the hospital. I had still not told her about the cameras and wasn't planning to.
So it took me a couple of weeks to watch the full hours long footage of an orgy which involved one dick or another being inside my drunk wife at any time. Sometimes two, one in the mouth one in the pussy. And she managed their rhythms like a pro! Once the Dara situation resolved, I planned to have several threesomes with her.
Most of the time, she was on all fours. Given the perfect milf bubble butt that my wife has, it was no surprise that the men doggy styled her more than any position. She was taking their pounding with eyes half open, being regularly given booze by the men who themselves kept drinking our home bar empty.
I also realized that although in my initial skimming, I had not seen her have any orgasms, detailed perusal showed that she had cum a lot as the night progressed. As the action shifted to our apartment, her sexual enthusiasm did not indicate a woman doing anything under duress. She was all in on the gang bang. It was just a pile of bodies to her.
At one point Muthu was fucking her on the bed when he stopped humping and then moved a bit behind her. From the camera angle, I could not see what he was doing. But Menaka's moans got more high pitched.
"What are you doing man?" said Banke who had fucked her right before.
"I got into her ass a little bit." He laughed.
And watching carefully, I could see the signs. Menaka was gripping the bed sheet really hard with both hands and squealing. There was a tension in her naked back that was clearly the result of a dick being inserted in her asshole. All the sloppy seconds meant plenty of lubrication for his dick.
I had had anal sex plenty of time with women when I was overseas, but never with my wife. Until recently, she had been so staid and straight and wholesome that it felt wrong to even suggest it. But she was a different woman now. However, I don't think Dara or Banke had ever tried to bugger her either. Muthu, the most unremarkable of all men she had bedded recently, was the first to go up her ass. There was an oddly appropriate irony to that.
I watched fascinated as Muthu slowly kept pushing more of his modest dick into my wife's anus and she kept making deeper and deeper noises. Not one of those noises was a "No" by the way. She did not seem scandalized or freaked out that a dick was in her ass. Even Vimla, sprawled on her side naked as she sucked her brother in law's dick, seemed surprised.
Muthu rarely lasted long even in her pussy so of course came quickly in her recently virgin ass. When he rolled over and I saw Menaka's face, she looked to be enjoying herself. The ease with which she had given in meant the other guys also took turns at her ass and she came hard during each of them because they lasted longer. An hour later, cum was gushing down her ass crack.
That day when she returned from the hospital, I took her straight to the bedroom and shoved my dick in her ass. She didn't resist or express surprise. She made the same high pitched noises as my significantly larger dick invaded her insides. It disturbed me how turned on I was at the awareness that at least three dicks had already fucked this ass. I buggered her hard. She came harder than with those guys, I noted with pleasure. It's like I wanted my wife to see and acknowledge that I was a sexual pro too. And she did, through her orgasms and passionate kisses. But never explicitly. I never heard her say, you know Prakash, I have fucked a lot of men but you are just something else. To be fair, I had never paid her such a compliment either, because it would not have been true.
So when she told me about the security guard, I was not surprised. My wife seemed to have erased most boundaries sexually. In fact, she seemed to relish risky and taboo situations. Which I am sure weighed on her conscience and sense of self-preservation too.
Finally she was ready to talk about the security guard a little more. The reality seemed less perverted than what I had imagined.
"I was giving Dara a blowjob like everyday..."
