This has cuckold, pregnancy and voyeur themes.
A reader of mine from India, G, requested a story and supplied the basic plot-points of a newlywed Indian couple who's wife is seduced by an older white neighbor. If you think you might like it, I hope you enjoy.
My name is Mohit. I work as an engineer in Silicon Valley for a large chip-maker. I've lived in Sunnyvale, California for a few years now. My parents immigrated to Southern California about ten years ago and I ended up going to Caltech before moving up north.
I suppose in many ways I've lived a charmed life, but I've always been torn between two worlds, not quite fitting into either of them. My parents wanted me to have a more traditional arranged marriage. I wanted a more modern wife, but someone who wouldn't be afraid to stay at home with the kids.
Finding my wife was interesting. There are many misconceptions about arranged marriage outside of India. No, my parents didn't have somebody in mind, a daughter of a friend of the family. Unlike my parents, who'd only met a few times before they were married, I wasn't going to be forced to marry somebody I hardly knew.
When the time came I was subjected to a daily barrage of emails where I was cc'd by my father, who seemed to spend all his time looking for prospective brides online from his home in San Diego. For many Indians new to the US, stuck between two worlds, this is a common right of passage.
Still, in the spirit of romance and adventure I'd endeavored to find a suitable match, a girl who I'd fall in love with and be my karmic destiny. That being said, you'd be surprised who you see on these websites. My father once asked me if I'd be interested in a girl who worked down the hall.
When I met Divya she was the perfect match. She was a nurse at a local hospital. She had a kind and caring attitude and we shared similar values.
I called my parents with the happy news that I'd found "The One".
Twelve months after our wedding we had a baby. I was very proud of my wife. She worked hard to get rid of her baby weight. As much as I might have enjoyed it, she didn't make large portions of hearty Indian meals. She was a vegetarian, but kept the white carbs to a minimum. She joined a local YMCA that had child care where she could hit the treadmill, lift weights and generally keep in good shape.
My life was as I imagined it, me the breadwinner, my wife taking care of house and home. We moved from our little apartment to a much nicer area in Los Altos. It was very expensive, but I figured it to be a good investment as real estate in the area was insane. It was a starter home compared to the other houses in the area, a one story ranch house with three bedrooms, but at least we could make the payments comfortably on my income.
There was another Indian family across the street that we'd hang out with, but I didn't really connect with them on a personal level. They were very traditional, nice enough, but not our type. Next door lived an older couple that was a little strange, Rick and Dorothy. They had a large house, well decorated and maintained, with a beautiful big pool in their backyard. I could go to my backyard fence and peak through the cracks, but it made me jealous.
The first time I met our neighbors was under unfortunate circumstances. About a month after we moved in, some idiot neighborhood kids had gone down the street, slashing car tires. I was in my work clothes, staring at my flat and pissed off at the world. I'd never changed a flat tire so I rolled up my sleeves and opened the instruction manual for the minivan, locating the donut sized spare tire and the jack.
Rick came down from his porch to see if he could help. We exchanged friendly greetings, and I felt relieved because he said changing a tire shouldn't be a big problem. Suddenly my situation seemed manageable.
He was in his early 60's, but had this strange youthful vitality. He had a full head of gray hair, was slender, and built like a rock. He told me he was a plastic surgeon. In his open garage I'd spied a couple of motorcycles. He wore a t-shirt that showed off his arms.
His wife Dorothy also came out, curious as to the commotion on our sleepy street. She was a fox. I'd guessed he'd done some work on her as it was hard to tell her age. I guessed she was in her 50's, but she looked ten or fifteen years younger in a strange artificial way that wasn't off putting. She dressed well, had large fake breasts, wore expensive jewelry and was damn sexy, a true MILF. She had a beautiful ass and thin waist. Liposuction was probably involved. I stared at her for ten seconds too long and when I looked back up, Rick just winked at me, smirking. I hoped I hadn't offended him.
At this point Divya came out with a cell phone, offering to call the police to make a report. I introduced her to our neighbors and started the repairs.
I struggled with the lugnuts on the tire, twisting with all my might to loosen them. Wearing a nice shirt and pants, I kept rubbing my clothes against grimy bolts and parts, souring my mood.
"Woah, woah, watch it," Rick said, "let me get dirty doing that, I don't have to go to work." He knelt down beside me and I looked up at my wife who couldn't stop smiling as he took the tire iron from me. He put the end around the bolt and pulled up hard. I couldn't believe his arms, all muscle and veins as he yanked up and twisted the bolt loose.
"Oh my," Divya said. I looked at her and frowned. She just laughed, turning her head in an attempt to be modest.
I leaned in, grabbing the tire iron. "Take a break, I can get the next one."
"Be my guest," he snickered, standing over me.
I twisted and turned making the same motion he did, pulled with all my might. My hands hurt but the bolt didn't move.
"Mohit, let Rick do it, you'll hurt yourself," Divya said.
I made an excuse, "I just don't want to get my clothes dirty, getting in too close."
Rick just looked at me with squinted eyes like he'd unexpectedly met the village idiot. He took the tool and popped off the next four bolts, each time straining and showing his muscles. He was clearly showing off.
When he was done I was discombobulated having been shown up in a contest of strength. My desk job had failed me. He handed me the jack.
My adrenaline pumping in humiliation, I was determined to finish the job. I put the jack under the car, fumbling as I twisted the crank to lift up the car.
"Mohit, let Rick do it. He's strong, he can crank it up," again Divya humiliated me.
"He's the strongest guy I ever met," squawked Dorothy, sounding like she once had a pack a day cigarette habit. She found our situation uninteresting and returned to the house.
I turned over the tire iron to him, a beaten man. He finished the job in a few minutes, including putting on the new tire. My only contribution was putting the lug nuts back on by hand so he could tighten them properly.
Divya thanked him and he leaned in and they hugged. "Thank you Rick," she said, "You are a real lifesaver!" I shook his hand and went inside to change out of my dirtied office clothes.
The baby was asleep in his crib and Divya followed me into the bedroom.
"It's a good thing Rick helped us," she said.
"Absolutely." I wasn't going to argue, figuring it was best to let it go. While I changed she came up behind me and planted a kiss on my neck.
"You weren't so bad yourself," she said, reaching around to pull out my manhood. She wanted sex now? We hadn't had proper sex in almost a year, the baby keeping both of us sleep deprived. I decided why not, I'd already called into work warning them I'd had car trouble. Another fifteen minutes wouldn't hurt anything.
We lay on the bed and I reached down between her legs, her thick thatch of pubic hair musky and wet. I slid a finger inside her and she gasped.
