Indian Wife Meets Her Servant Again
Indian wife is enjoyed by former lover again as husband watches.
Author's note: This is a story of a cheating wife, of adultery, of cuckoldry. If that is not your thing, skip this story. And remember while adultery can be a great source of enjoyment in fantasy and erotica, in real life it damages souls and destroys marriages. Please treat the following story as a fiction and fantasy piece only. It is written to deliver pleasure and has no other purpose. - Tarek Zia
"Are we all set for India, Gopal?" Neetu asked me, as I climbed into bed beside her. My sexy wife was wearing a small low-cut pink nightie, giving me ample view of her generous bouncing cleavage.
"Yes, dear." I grabbed hold of her by the hips, throwing my arms around her, and we kissed passionately.
SMOOCH!
"My goodness, you are one horny hubby tonight." Neetu giggled, as I untied the sash that held her nightie together. The robe flew open partially, letting loose her big boobs.
"Your panties need to come off too, my dear." I told her, reaching for her underwear. My hands rested on her ass as I squeezed the flesh there. "Damn Neetu! You are one sexy spunky wife. I am so lucky to have you!"
Neetu gave me a lovely smile.
"And I am lucky to have you, Gopal, my dear hubby!"
SMOOCH!
We kissed again for some time, even as I rolled off her panties. She wasn't wearing a bra, so only the nightie had remained.
"Darling." Neetu hooked her hands on my shorts. Very expertly she rolled down my pants, and then helped me out of my T-shirts. I now lay there, fully naked, even as my wife, clad in a loose nightie, wrapped her hands around my shaft.
SMOOCH!
"My love." My wife Neetu said, kissing my right cheek. "Let me ask again. Is everything ready for our India trip?"
Suddenly her hold on my penis tightened. Even as I looked at her, a little smile came on her lips.
"Er ... yes, dear." I repeated. "Why do you ask?"
"Is our residence finalized?" Neetu continued her firm grip on my penis.
"Er ... yes, my love." I answered. "The agent booked a three-bedroom penthouse condo in a suburb of Pune. It's close to the marketplace and the metro station and has a nice veranda overlooking the city. There's no other taller building nearby, and he already booked a car for us too. The condo comes with underground parking. There's a gym, and other facilities. We can use one bedroom, and I can use the third bedroom as my work office and study. The servant can have the second bedroom."
"And who ..." Neetu gently squeezed my turgid penis. "Who did you hire as our servant, Gopal?"
I drew in a sharp breath. So, she knew.
One look at my wife, and I could tell that ... yes ... she knew for sure.
Neetu smiled, and gently stroked my penis.
"You think I wouldn't know?" She asked softly. "
He
still texts me; you know. I am still his favourite slut wife."
He
could only be one person in the whole world. The only person who could refer to my dear wife as his favourite
slut
wife.
Bhola. Our former servant.
Ten years ago, for the first time in our married life, my wife had an affair. For five months, almost every other night, Neetu would go to our servant Bhola's room to get fucked.
Yes.
MY servant would fuck MY wife, roughly, passionately, ardently, for almost three hours straight, giving Neetu orgasm after orgasm, leaving her panting, helpless, and breathless. Bhola had that way with women, especially married ones. By the time the affair ended, there was hardly a room in that house where Bhola hadn't made love with my wife. In addition to emptying his cum into my wife's unprotected womb, he also ejaculated into her mouth, and often took her roughly in the ass ... acts that Neetu never allowed me, her own husband, to do with her.
I remembered one time in the middle of the night, standing outside the window, watching secretly as Bhola continued to fuck my wife. I watched as they both moved together, slowly, and passionately, as Bhola went deep inside her. Neetu had to bite on the sheets to remain quiet, even as she started to go through a severe orgasm. Moments later, Bhola was filling her with his cum, pushing his great cock deep inside my wife and holding it there as he shot into her, again and again.
The affair ended when Neetu got pregnant with our son Sahil. Yes, I say
our
son, even though biologically he is Bhola's offspring. We cut off all ties with Bhola and soon we moved from India to Canada.
I thought we would never see Bhola again. I was wrong.
Seven years later (which was three years ago), we returned to my ancestral village in Chennai, India, for a wedding. My son stayed with my parents, whereas Neetu and I shared a hut with a servant.
That servant was Bhola.
Once again, for almost two weeks straight, my wife Neetu became Bhola's secret sex toy and cum dump. From a tiny hole in the wall in our own room, I would stand and watch as my wife would dutifully go to Bhola's room every night, to be taken and treated like a slut, and he would ravage my wife's body for the next few hours. There was hardly any sex act he didn't try (again!) with my wife.
This time though, things got out of hand. First, Bhola introduced his younger brother Bunty to Neetu. Soon, both Bunty and Bhola were having fucking my wife every night, going at it like bunnies. And then things
really
got out of hand. My cousin Manav, who had apparently fantasized about my wife for a long time, persuaded Bhola, who owed him some favours, to share Neetu with him.
That fateful night, New Year's Eve, even as Manav respectfully called her
Bhabhi
, my cousin spanked and slapped and fucked my wife for hours, ejaculating inside her several times. One time without a condom.
Bhola wasn't done. He then showed his real colours, actually making my wife a true common village whore. That same fateful night, Bhola ended up sharing Neetu with a few men from the village to all of whom he owed a few favours.
The scene is still etched into my brain. For two hours that night, I had to listen as men after men from the village entered Bhola's room, one by one, and sometimes in twos and threes, taking turns to fuck, and do whatever else they wanted, with my helpless wife. The village men were rough with Neetu, not hesitating to slap my wife across her fair skinned cheeks or spank her on the fleshy buttocks, twisting her big boobs, calling her names like '
randi
' and so on. I remained in my bed, shamelessly masturbating, even as Neetu's moans, her groans, and her cries continued to filter through the walls. She was in constant action, with at least one dick in one of her holes at all times, getting fucked constantly.
We knew we could never show our face in that village again, as it seemed almost half the village men had their dicks buried inside my wife that night. Life after returning to Canada hadn't been exactly smooth sailing either.
Of course, Neetu was pregnant with Bhola's child again. This time it was a lovely baby girl. We named her Sunita. She had Neetu's lovely smile and complexion, and Bhola's deeply charming eyes. Yet, the post pregnancy had been tough. Neetu suffered from post partum depression for almost a year, and nothing - no medicines - helped. She loved her baby, don't get me wrong, but Neetu had extensive mood swings. She suffered from a loss of appetite and severe anxiety. Neetu was always worried that she wasn't a good mother or wife (which she was). Overall, she was in depression for almost a year.
Sunita was a different child compared to Sahil, who had been fairly easy as a baby. Sunita was constantly demanding attention, and in her first year she was persistently sick with cold and cough. This being Canada, we had no hired help in our home in Ottawa. Neetu was on maternity leave, but she decided to quit her job completely to take care of our kids. Meanwhile the cost of living had gone up significantly in Canada, and money became tight due to inflation and my stagnant salary.
As I said, it had been a rough three years since our return from India. Last year though, things began to look up. I got a brand-new job, almost fully remote, and with much higher salary. Sunita became a much easier kid to handle and didn't fall sick as often.
So, when, on Sunita's second birthday, Neetu proposed that we spend the next summer holidays fully in India, I wasn't opposed to it. My work by now was more or less completely remote, and my office was fine with me working from India, as long as I logged on during the North American regular working hours.
"We can drop off the kids at your parents." Neetu had suggested to me. "They can spend some time with each other, and
we
can spend some time with each other."
That completely sold the idea to me. And of course, my parents were delighted. It would be three years since they had seen us last. They had never seen Sunita, and now they would get to spend two months with both Sahil and Sunita. And thus, the plan was set. We would depart at the end of May to Chennai, where my parents lived, and then spend two weeks there. After that, the kids would remain there, and we would spend 6 weeks in Pune, where my office had vendors that I could liaison with. Pune was a short flight from Chennai, so we could come and visit the kids if there was a need.
I had talked with an agent and booked everything, including a nice condo penthouse in Pune. The only thing remaining was to hire a servant for our month and half long stay in Pune.
