I am taking a big gamble by putting this story in this section. I am told that the readers of "Loving Wives" stories are the most demanding and the least forgiving. I know that writing stories with such themes do not come naturally to me. I am not a native English speaker either. But this is a category I have not yet attempted, so I must give it a try.
Well, this story also gets everything topsy-turvy. There is no BTB or RAAC. There is a wife who cheats. But she is an endearing woman. Then it is the lover and not the husband who is the good guy. There are rare occurrences of stray words and phrases from more than one of the fourteen official languages of India but a reader not familiar with such languages will be able to easily discern their meaning from the context itself.
The idea and some inputs for this story come from a fan of mine who prefers to remain anonymous and to whom I would like to express my gratitude. If you like this story, the credit goes to her, if not, it is because of my inability to express her ideas in a way that appeals to the readers.
And now for the disclaimers:
This story is a work of fiction and any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is just coincidental.
All characters who indulge in sexual activities in this story are well over 18 years of age.
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She lay on her back, on his huge bed, her head sunk deep into a large fluffy pillow. She was fully clothed and nervous. For the first time in her married life, she was in the intimate presence of this other man who was not her husband. Not that she had ever been comfortable in the presence of that inconsiderate brute who was her spouse. But an arranged marriage was not where you married the man you loved. You tried very hard to love the man you married.
He lay to her right, on his left side, head propped up by his palm and elbow. His right hand lay lightly over her stomach. She sensed a long, hard, and thick piece of flesh sidling up the outer side of her right thigh. Did she feel it pulsate? She wasn't quite sure.
He was looking deep into her soft brown irises with those steely black eyes of his. Her vision at that not-so-close range easily took in his features.
How on earth was she falling for him? He was nowhere as good-looking as her husband. A dark though smooth complexion, and thick dark brown lips that bespoke of genes not purely Aryan, dominated his face. Was it his gutsy look? Or was it those lines of kindness that furrowed his forehead that made him so attractive to her?
She imagined his mouth on her pussy. Of his thick horizontal lips on her big soft vertical ones. Of a tongue snaking in and moistening her innards. She involuntarily shivered.
Her confused mind wandered tangentially. "Oh my god, the babies he will put inside me will be dark, with bulbous lips!"
But her body responded with a tightening of her nipples. So hard were they now, they seemed to be jutting out, not just through her lacy bra and blouse but through the drape of her saree.
"Can he see them?" She wondered. But he seemed focussed on her face.
She was hit by a sudden state of fugue. As newly become friends of a couple of months, she was enjoying an afternoon cup of coffee with him, seated in the small Bistro outside her office. She could not remember the way the conversation had turned, just that she was here now, on his bed, in his house, with the door firmly locked behind them.
Her brain in turmoil asked of her, "Will this man penetrate my defences? Will he probe my depths today, go softly and gently to some of those places where only my husband had often roughly and brutally accessed? Will he explore some new nooks and crannies and boldly go where no man had gone before? God! In moments like these, do I have to sound like Star Trek?"
Before her mind could answer, the harsh jangling of her phone broke her reverie. She fumbled with the device she had placed on the bedside table, swiped and uttered a nervous "Hello?"
"Where are you, Bitch?" A harsh voice screeched at her.
"Just leaving the office," her fear was evident in her voice.
"Office? Or are you preparing to get fucked by one of those many pricks who hover around you all day, sniffing your sweaty cunt and ass?"
She knew the man beside her could hear the conversation, for her apology for a husband was screaming
"Get your ass over here double-quick. We have my office party to attend and the presence of my old cow is necessary."
Even as two huge drops of tears rushed down her flushed cheeks, something snapped inside her. Was it the presence of those piercing eyes alongside that gave her the courage?
"Screw you and your party, husband, Who the fuck would want to be seen with an asshole like you. With that noodle-like string that hangs between your legs, that with my best administration can be nothing better than a flimsy stiff paper straw, you can find your own cows, sheep and she-goats at your party. Or better still, a bull will find you and rip you a new ass in the men's room."
As she heard a choked apoplectic scream from the other end, a hand reached out for her phone, disconnected the call and placed it back on the bedside table. It rang again, he held her hand, shook his head and did not let her pick it up. It rang a few more times and tinkled with a flurry of messages when he reached out again and switched it off.
"He will find us, Arvind, he will come after us," she sobbed hysterically.
In response, he bent down and licked the two trails of tears on her cheeks, leaving a different kind of wetness behind.
"Your car is in your office parking, we came here in mine. No one can find us," he whispered soothingly.
Yet, seeing that withering look that had overtaken her countenance, he arose from the bed, pulled her up and pointed her to the bathroom.
"Go fix your face. I am taking you someplace where even the gods cannot find us. In one hour, we stop at the suburban mall where I am going to equip you with clothes, toiletries and other necessities. Then by early evening, we will be in a safe protected haven. We will then decide what to do."
So saying he gave her a sweet soft kiss on her cheek followed by gentle prod to her ample behind.
In an hour, they were in the suburbs. "Don't worry about the costs, just pick up all that you like," he said, giving her a tight sideways hug as they stepped into the mall.
She chose a dark blue cocktail dress. The seamstress took her measurements after she had tried it on and promised to have the alterations done in an hour. Then came the lingerie. She undoubtedly had very good taste in clothes and she seemed to be picking up items that she already had back home. Then some formal trousers and shirts, a couple of transparent silky sarees and cholis followed by her personal toiletries and she seemed sorted.
Retail therapy seemed to work for her, the shopping had uplifted her tense mood to a great extent. He picked up a large suitcase for her to gather her purchases in and as she excused herself to go to the washroom, slipped into the medical store to 'equip' themselves for their time together. He quietly slipped his purchases into his laptop bag that hung from his shoulder.
They sat down at the food court for some sandwiches. Her mood considerably better, she asked him,
"Where are we going Arvind, and for how long? You know I have my business to look after."
"As we drive to our destination, call up your assistant and tell her to take charge. You can be in touch with her at fixed times of the day. By tomorrow evening, I will have a plan worked out. Just tell me in one word, do you want to be rid of your abusive husband?"
"Yes," she replied with a firm determination, "though I do not know what the future will hold for me."
"You, I love, Sushmita, and till you want me, I will be your friend, benefactor, protector and guide. While I will liberally dole out advice, what you want to do with it and your future will be decisions that only you will make. But one thing is certain. Your abusive husband will exit from your life."
She gave him a grateful look. In the secluded basement car park, as he put her suitcase in the boot, she stepped up to him and placed her full bountiful lips on his in a chaste kiss.