Sometimes I'm such an asshole. I run a small construction company, and sometimes I have to lay off all my workers when work is slow. But that's not why I am an asshole.
As I've grown more mature, I take increasing pleasure in fucking other men's wives. And almost as fun as the actual fucking is the planning for how to do it.
Some are gimmies. Some husbands actually advertise for males to join them in a threesome. Those are the least fun get together, although I'm never one to turn down a new pussy. The more fun times are those where it's the couple's first time or where some scheming or creative trickery is involved.
Long ago I discovered that if nature has endowed a man with a larger than average cock, then gaining access to wives is only a matter of creating the right situation. This involves a sense of humor, a sense of daring, graciousness and guesswork, pretty much in equal doses.
For example.
As the end of year holidays approached, my business was slowing down. In fact, it was about dead for a month. A young man approached me about work. He was newly arrived in this country from Bangladesh and eager for work. He was skinny and clean cut and in his twenties.
I did have a small job and could use some help, so I took him on. He told me that he and his wife were glad to be here. They were the first in their family to arrive and wanted eventually to bring over other family members. But first they had to get a foothold here.
I soon came to appreciate his work habits and courtesy to the customer. Rohan was a gentleman and had adequate job skills. We finished and then started on another small job.
The holidays were fast approaching, and I invited him and his wife for dinner at a restaurant. When they arrived, I was dazzled. Mila was very lovely and very shy. They both had lovely deep dark complexions. She was lithe and graceful and said little during the evening, watching her husband for clues about how she should behave.
My loins began to stir.
They weren't doing anything on New Year's Eve, so I invited them over to my place and began devising a plan to enjoy myself with Mila.
During our work together, I joked with Rohan about sex enough to find out that he was as red blooded as the next American male when it came to such matters. So I hoped that he would also enjoy what I had in mind for them.
My home has a private patio in the back with a small pool and hot tub. Mila and Rohan arrived at six, and we enjoyed a meal that Mila prepared. I'd never had such delicious and exotic foods.
We live in the southernmost part of the country, so New Year's Eve was mild with warm breezes. Mila's flowing clothes floated in the breezes and her bright eyes sparkled.
I told them that the celebration of the New Year had several traditions, including fireworks. But I created a few new ones, too, and I was about to see how far I could take things based on my fake "traditions."
First, I invited them to join me in the hot tub. I knew they didn't bring bathing suits with them. "Oh, I'm sorry," I said, "I forgot to tell you that we always ceremonially ablute ourselves before the new year arrives."
"Actually, it's more a tradition for the males," I quickly added in order to take the pressure off of Mila. I suspected that she was very shy, so her husband would have to be convinced first before any steps could be taken whatsoever to move Mila toward a fucking.
"Actually, it's best to do it without bathing suits anyway," I told them. Then I watched for Rohan's reaction.
"We don't have to do it, not really, but it's considered good luck for the new year to immerse yourself nude in water," I added. I pretended not to care too much. I was just telling them what the custom was.
Rohan seemed thoughtful for a few seconds, then said, "Why sure, why not?"
"Swell," I told him, "let's go inside and get towels." I led the way into the house while Mila sat beside the pool in the gentle evening stillness.
I directed Rohan to the guest room and told him to wrap a towel around himself and meet me on the patio. A minute later, we were standing next to the hot tub while it bubbled, both Rohan and I naked with towels concealing our private areas.
Who knows what Mila was thinking? She looked down most of the time, only occasionally flitting her eyes upward to take in the scene in front of her.
I pretended to be modest and stepped into the water with my back to Mila, removing my towel only at the last second before the warm water covered my backside. Rohan was on the other side of the tub, so when he removed his towel, both Mila and I saw his little pecker. It was limp and looked like a pencil dick with an almost invisible little ball sack.
Rohan sat down. He and I faced each other and relaxed in the swirling water. My eleven inch cock was limp, too, but its bulk felt heavy and full even in the water. Neither Rohan nor Mila could see it at that depth.
That's when I began to compliment Mila. "Rohan, you never told me how beautiful your wife is. I've seldom seen such a lovely woman."
"Why, thank you," he replied. "I am lucky to have such a wife."
"Did you choose each other, or was your marriage arranged in your home country?"
"One of the main reasons we left was because Mila and I wanted to marry against the wishes of both of our families," Rohan explained. "Mila was the most beautiful girl in our town, and I had longed for her since we were quite young."
Just as I suspected. Mila was a true beauty, and my young friend Rohan was romantic. I was encouraged that he might enjoy what I had planned for them.
"Rohan, my family traces its roots to natives in this country, and they used to paint themselves with elaborate designs for special occasions. I brought some henna paints so we can do it tonight, if you like."
I pointed to a little case that contained the paints, "Over there, could Mila bring it?"
He nodded to her, and Mila retrieved the case. "Open it, Mila," I told her. "See inside the pictures of how these look?" I had printed these from the Internet and juggled the images to look like old snapshots.
"It's for good luck," I announced. Then I looked at Rohan, who seemed relaxed and peaceful -- so far.
"In our tradition, the women apply the paint and do the drawing," I told him. "Would Mila like to decorate you a little bit?"
Rohan smiled. "I don't see why not," he answered. Then he summoned his wife and sat up on the side of the pool. She dried his back and chest while I gave her some ideas about what to draw.
Mila laughed gently as she began to decorate her husband's back and arms. She worked at it carefully, trying to replicate the swirls and images in the photographs.
