My husband and I returned from the States six months after I had my first gang-bang encounter in a bar. I did not wish to risk my marriage -- I had everything that I needed -- and so exercised discretion over disquiet in my life. I had led a sheltered life in India till we traveled to the US five years back, and the lifestyle and attitude in that country helped to loosen up a lot of inhibitions that I had for so long carried around as baggage. The encounter happened and left a mark on me. I was gang-raped (if submitting to a group of sex-crazed men craving for free pussy can be termed rape), used in an alleyway, and left to walk home without my underwear and in tattered clothes -- and I loved every moment of it.
I have not stopped thinking about it and reliving it since.
Six months later, we returned back home -- we were not sure how long the relocation was going to last, but I was crestfallen that I could not experiment further in men as boldly as I could in the US.
Our apartment on the outskirts of Pune was one of a few condos in a luxury complex. On this day, I was on cloud nine -- my husband who was away for work for two months was coming down.
Suffice it is to say I was terribly horny all this while. Miserable every night in my bed, I would toss and turn, trying not to think about his hugeness in my bush, his tongue-lashes in my cunt, his warm hands on my tits, his fingers playing with my nipples. Sometimes, it would not be him I thought of when I came. Yes, it was painful to be away from sex for such a long time.
My dildo was my constant companion through these months. I used it almost everyday. At work, I would quietly sneak inside the men's room and shove it up my pussy; this somehow made me cum instantly. Probably because the venue excited me even more and I secretly wished somebody would actually see me in the act. If your husband's away for so long at frequent intervals, such thoughts are but inevitable, one can assume.
So on this day I wore a semi transparent chiffon sari (to quickly bring you up to speed -- this is nothing but 5-6 yards of unstitched cloth worn over a midriff-baring blouse and a petticoat that can be wrapped around in various styles). I wore it in such a way that my bellybutton and the ring in it was exposed, and the other end was draped over the shoulder exposing as much of my right tit as I could without having the sari fall off. With that, I wore a backless halter-neck blouse with only strings behind and a very low neck, aiming to flaunt the gear when he walked through that door. My hair, in its curly volume, was loose. Finally, I wore a nose-ring and a red bindi on my forehead to accentuate what I needed and what I could offer. Looking at myself in the mirror, I could believe that this 35-year old could get picked up if she stood by the roadside.
Since we had lived abroad for such a long period of time, I hardly knew people in Pune, including our neighbors. So on that day while taking a stroll on the corridor, I suddenly realized that from across the balcony a group of men were ogling me. I did not know them, and tried not to pay attention, but my eyes kept on meeting theirs and what I saw was not unexpected. They were staring at me as if I were a piece of cake, ready to be gorged! I was instantly shaky, and my cell phone fell on the ground. Two seconds after bending over to pick it up, I realized to my horror that the sari draped over my shoulder had fallen, completely exposing my cleavage and my belly button. There were instant catcalls from the other balcony. I was on display. Cursed myself for being so stupidly absent minded -- if only I had pinned my sari to my blouse...
Quickly, I reproached myself. Yeah, so a few men had a little fun at my expense. Big deal! I went inside, thought it may be a good idea to sit by the pool with a beer, and went hurrying down the stairs. They were relatively empty at this time of the day. Now in case you did not know already, a sari is not the most manageable of dresses -- as fate would have it, I tripped.
Someone made a speedy grab as I fell. Whoa! When I regained my orientation, someone I had never seen in my life was lying on his back with me on top of him, with one end of my sari astray and my hair all over his face. I was so shocked and overwhelmed by the whole thing that I couldn't move. He slowly moved my hair from his face and stared straight into the valley between my tits. They almost grazed his chin, so even in my distraught mind, I could not blame him for his eyes going there first. Then he looked into my eyes and grinned. Two seconds later I realized that his hands were on my ass -- he held me tight as if to prevent me from losing my balance further. As I peeled my eyes away and tried to pry myself off him, I realized with a sinking feeling that my blouse button had entangled itself with that of his shirt. I tugged and pulled but it just wouldn't come off! Finally, he took over, and used his hands to slowly untangle the knot. In the process I could feel his hands touch the soft flesh of my tits from where they were exposed from the blouse. Big surprise there. But still I didn't complain.
At last I was free. I gradually gathered myself and made a quick (and hopefully decent) exit.
But something happened then and there. My mind was racing with possibilities. Thinking back to the night six months back. He wasn't bad looking and was probably no more than thirty. Dirty thoughts about him assailing me filled up my mind as I replayed the events, and I started sweating.
Two hours later, I received a call from my husband, informing me that he had missed his connecting flight due to heavy snow at Heathrow. At best, he would be able to take the flight tomorrow. That meant I had a whole day to wait again. I didn't know whether I should be upset or happy. Either way, I was impatient.
It was dusk when I wanted to go to the roof to get some air. Even by then, I had not changed from my outfit -- kind of liking how I looked in it and the attention I had got so far through the day. The roof on our building is usually deserted unless there are raucous parties thrown by the residents. As I was walking down the corridor towards the door that led to the roof, someone grabbed me by my waist and pulled me beside the doorway. It was Him. He was sweating and looked anxious, as if he had been waiting for quite some time. As I struggled to free myself, his grip became tighter. Till then, I hadn't shouted or cried for help. He pulled me closer and now I could feel his hard member against my exposed belly.