My Indian Slut Wife Vidya Ch 09

My Indian Slut Wife Vidya -- Chapter 09

My wife and the pool boys -- Rajesh

Author's note: This is a story of a cheating wife, of adultery, of cuckoldry and small penis humiliation. 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

This story is also a homage to a classic story, "Indian Wife & Construction Guys", by aurelius1982. However, I have only taken the basic idea of his story -- a housewife having sex with construction guys -- and put my own characters and my own take on the story. -- Tarek Zia

"Pass me the toast, honey." My wife ordered.

"Yes, dear." I answered.

"Did you make the tea?"

"Yes, dear." I replied. "I didn't add the sugar this time."

"Good." Vidya nodded in appreciation. "You need to cut sugar completely from your diet, dear. Your paunch has been growing recently."

"Yes, dear."

I knew she was right, of course. My wife was always right. Whereas Vidya was the very figure of healthiness and sexiness, I had been growing slightly more rotund recently. With my waist size increasing a little, Vidya decided enough was enough and I had to diet, and exercise.

"Did you go for a run this morning?" Vidya asked.

"Yes, dear."

"Everyone's husband is fit and healthy, baby. When you are with me, I need you to look presentable as well. No one should say Vidya's husband is fat."

"Yes, dear. I am sorry, dear."

"You should be!" Vidya retorted. "I know you don't have a big penis, baby, but that doesn't mean you should compensate and have a big belly!"

"Yes, dear."

"As for your small penis, darling, you can't do anything about it. And Mr. Sarun is nicely taking care of me in that department. But you CAN do something about your growing waist!"

"Yes, dear."

"You can learn something from Mr. Sarun, sweetie pie. Something

other

than how to fuck a woman. Learn from him how to exercise and eat healthy as well!"

"Yes, dear."

Ding dong.

"Get the door,

jaanu

." Vidya ordered. "I think the pool men are here."

"Yes, dear." I replied, finishing off my tea. "I am nearly done, anyways."

"Thank you, darling. You are so nice. Remember to clean up the breakfast table after you let the men in."

"Yes, dear."

I stood up from the breakfast table. My wife was still buttering her toast. It was 830 am in the morning and I was about to head to the office soon. I brushed off a few crumbs from my shirt and walked to the door.

Vidya was right. It was the pool men.

Some time ago, my boss Mr. Sarun had purchased the house next door to us. I still remember how he had told me about it. It had been a long day in the office, full of tough negotiations with a foreign supplier, and we had just returned back to my place, where Mr. Sarun was staying with us for a week. After a sumptuous dinner cooked by my lovely, sexy, voluptuous and talented all-rounder wife, we were just looking to hit the bed.

Of course -- "hitting the bed" -- meant different things to my boss and I. Me -- relegated to the servants' room in my own house, while my boss Mr. Sarun was looking forward to fucking MY wife all night long on our marital bed.

"It's been a long and tiring day, Rajesh." He had exclaimed. "And my cock just wants to sink into that sexy wife of yours. I am glad to have an employee like you who has a hot wife like Vidya. She has a tight pussy, that woman!"

"Er ... thank you, Sir."

All this said while Vidya hovered nearby, giggling like a schoolgirl as my boss praised her in the most vulgar terms.

Mr. Sarun had laughed heartily.

"My dear Rajesh! Her tight cunt just means

you

haven't fucked your own wife properly. By the time

I

am done with her, her pussy will barely feel your little dick. That is, if she even wants to have sex with you, ever again."

"Er ... um ... thank you, Sir, for keeping Vidya pleased in bed, Sir."

I was meekly thanking a man who was constantly bonking my wife and taunting me about it. Vidya came and stood next to my boss, who raised a hand and began to fondle my wife's behind.

"A woman like Vidya is built for sex, Rajesh." Mr. Sarun warned me, as he groped her buttocks. "She has long legs to wrap around her man, a cunt that is always wet and ready to be ploughed, boobs that are big with perky nipples, and a big bubbly butt that just begs to be spanked. Vidya was wasted being married to you. You should be happy you found me to keep your wife happy and satisfied, Rajesh. She is still with you because she is being fucked by me."

"Yes, Sir. I know, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

Mr. Sarun patted my wife's ample perky bottom.

"Today, I think I will fuck her from the rear, Rajesh. It's been a while since I had some ass. Vidya's asshole is nice and juicy, just like her cunt."

"Er ... yes, Sir. As you wish, Sir."

"Not that you will know, you cuckold. Vidya tells me you are not man enough to fuck her in the ass."

"Um ... no, Sir."

As Vidya stood there, chuckling while my boss played with her ass, he suddenly seemed to be think of something.

"Your house has no swimming pool, Rajesh." He had said.

"Er ... no, Sir."

"I talked to my real estate agent. He tells me your neighbour is selling his house."

"Yes, Sir. He has been trying for some time."

"Good. I have asked my agent to purchase the house. After it's bought, we are going to take down his house and join the land with yours, and a big fence to go around the property."

"Oh ... thank you, Sir."

My boss turned my wife around and started to play with her breasts.

"No need to thank me, Rajesh." Mr. Sarun graciously remarked as he started to unbutton Vidya's blouse. "I just want a swimming pool and an outhouse here next time I come, so I can watch Vidya take a bath in her little bathing suit. Or no suit at all. She has great tits -- your wife!"

"Er ... thank you, Sir."

"Alright, now ... come ... you two ... follow me to the bedroom."

And with that comment, he went to our bedroom to fuck my wife. Unlike other times, this time I was commanded to accompany him and Vidya into the bedroom. As expected, I was ordered to record their sex session. Obediently I recorded a video of him enjoying my wife's body, so that he could view it again and again later.

That was two months ago. It had taken some time for the realtors to close the deal, and then some more time before my neighbor moved out. Then, last week, Mr. Sarun called me from the USA and told me that his agents here had hired a contractor to start working on the pool.

"Next time I am at your place," Mr. Sarun gloated on the phone, "We can both watch your sexy little wife swim naked in the pool, her beautiful big tits bouncing up and down, and the water running down her gorgeous big ass when she gets up from the water."

"Er ... yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. Thank you for the pool, Sir. It must have been expensive."

My boss had just bought a property in the most posh part of Pune, hired a contractor to remodel that into an outhouse and a pool. It was expensive -- sure -- but not for him!

"It is expensive, but it's worth it." Mr. Sarun replied. "I like a good swim, and I like sex, Rajesh, especially with other guys' wives. At your place, I was having the latter, but not the former. And think of it -- this way, you get to use the pool at least, if not your own wife."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

"There's something special about fucking a woman by the pool, Rajesh." Mr. Sarun continued. "Of course, you wouldn't know ... but I am sure Vidya will. Or she will get to know."

"Er ... I guess so, Sir."

"I fuck Rukmani by the pool all the time I am in Kolkata, Rajesh. The sounds carry across the water and her screams and moans are amplified, especially when she is taking my name. It all adds to the pleasure, Rajesh. I am looking forward to giving your fucking bimbo wife the same treatment."

Rukmani was a young Nepalese girl who worked as a maid in my boss's mansion in Kolkata, and was the wife of his driver, Imtiaz. Mr. Sarun regularly fucked Rukmani, often in Imtiaz's presence. I wasn't the only man he regularly cuckolded.

"Yes, Sir. I am sure Vidya will also love it, Sir. She is beside me right now, Sir. She says 'hi'."

"Oh man!" Mr. Sarun went on. "Rajesh! I am horny just thinking of that

randi

! Put that harlot wife of yours on the phone, Rajesh. I want to speak to my little slut."

"Yes, Sir."

I had passed the phone to Vidya. Soon she was giggling like a young girl talking to her crush, all the while rubbing herself between her legs. After some time, she had turned to me.

"Baby, can you please leave the room? I want to talk to Mr. Sarun in private."

"Yes, dear."

That was what my life was nowadays. "Yes, dear" to my wife, and "Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir" to my boss, her lover.

I don't want you to get me wrong. It wasn't a bad life. My wife

did

feel pity at my situation and had regular sex with me when Mr. Sarun wasn't here. She knew that when Mr. Sarun was visiting, she was to service him only, so she took care of me at other times. Mr. Sarun had also increased my salary quite a bit, so we were now at least financially very comfortable. When Mr. Sarun would fuck Vidya, often he would talk to her about finances and stocks in between the sex. He liked to brag about the company and his own wealth. Vidya trained herself to be very knowledgeable about the stock market, and she would pass on these valuable tips to me. Right now, we had quite a nice and growing portfolio based on Mr. Sarun's inadvertent stock tips.

I opened the door. Jawed and Asghar stood there.

It had been six days since work on the pool started at my place, but these two men reported on time every day punctually.

Jawed was the taller -- and older -- of the two. He was also the person in charge of the whole project. From what I understood, Jawed was also a mere labourer, but he had spent years working for this contractor that Mr. Sarun had hired, so now Jawed was put in charge of whatever project he was on, and a bunch of men put under his command. These men were mostly manual labourers hired from project to project. Some -- I guessed but had no way to be sure -- were actually illegal immigrants from either Nepal or Bangladesh.

Asghar was Jawed's right hand man -- the second-in-command. He was younger, stronger, but was also shorter. He never smiled -- and his face had a mean streak about him. He didn't talk much. Most of the time he grunted.

"I wanted to say we are here,

sahib

." Jawed addressed me respectfully. "The men are already at the back, and started to work."

"Thank you, Jawed." I told him. I appreciated his punctuality. It was rare quality in India, particularly amongst the lower class. When he started, he said they would be here every day at 8.30 in the morning, and he had been true to his word.

"Are you going to stay home today,

sahib

, or go to work?" Jawed asked me.

For the first three days after the pool men's arrival, I had worked from home. I wanted to oversee their work and understand what they were going to do. The last three days though, I had gone to work. The men seemed competent, and was moving at a good pace, and Jawed was knowledgeable, and seemed to know all the proper standards. What he didn't know, Asghar knew. Between them, they were making sure the 8 labourers they had with them were doing a good job.

"I am going to work." I answered.

"OK,

sahib

." Jawed said. "If we need anything, we will call you. I have your number."

"You can ask my wife also." I told him.

Was it my imagination or was there a sudden smirk on both of their faces. I blinked -- I couldn't be sure. It wasn't there now.

"We don't want to bother

memsaab

." Asghar suddenly spoke.

It wasn't my imagination -- there was definitely a smirk on his face. But it was once again gone as soon as it was there.

I didn't know what to make of it. I guess I was just overthinking it. When it came to Vidya recently, I tended to overanalyze everything.

As I drove to work, my thoughts turned to my wife.

It has been five long, eventful months since my wife had voluntarily become Mr. Sarun's mistress, his plaything, his fucktoy, his concubine, his slave girl ... whatever you want to call it. He was supposed to be in India every month for only ONE week, yet it had become TWO weeks every month. So for half a month, my wife was at his service. She was his chattel.

Instead of being married to a bombshell of a wife, now half my life I was a servant to my wife and her lover. I was their chauffer. Their cook. Their cleaning boy. That is ... when

he

was here, of course.

The way it worked, when Mr. Sarun would be in India, either he would stay over at my place, or he would book a ticket for Vidya. My wife would fly to Kolkata to be at his place, along with his maid servant girls Narges and Rukmani. This was Mr. Sarun and his Indian harem of debauchery. Last month all four of them (Mr. Sarun, Narges, Rukmani and Vidya) had even spent five days together holidaying in Sri Lanka. And the month before that, Mauritius.

Of course I wasn't privy to what happened when my wife was away. Vidya did not share any or the sordid details, much to my chagrin. Asking her meant she would stop being the loving and respectful wife. She would then punish me by slapping me, or by stripping me naked and then subjecting me to some humiliating spanking. So I had stopped asking, just to ensure Vidya remained the doting wife. She had made it abundantly clear that questions about her extra-marital affairs were off limits, and she would share any juicy details only when she wanted to. It was something which was now out of my hands, all I could do was accept it.

Because it was me initially who had wanted this lifestyle, as she would constantly remind me.

Yes, dear.

When Mr. Sarun would be staying over at our place, I would be the servant (and hence I would have to stay in the servants' quarters). He would make me change the bedsheets between their love making sessions, and I was told to always be ready to serve him a drink after every time he fucked my wife.

Thank you, Sir, for putting your big, dark cock into my wife' willing, juicy cunt, stretching her to her limits, pumping her for hours and then flooding her fertile womb with your virile semen. Would you like a vodka, Sir?

It really did seem as if he was owning her, and I was just there as an extra valet. I was sure that with every thrust of his alpha cock, my memory was slowly being erased me from my wife's lush womb. I was afraid that by the end of the year, when technically our deal would be over, she would be begging for his child. My little dick throbbed in defeat (or was it arousal) every time I visualized that imaginary scene in my head.

Mr. Sarun was very upfront with Vidya about 3 things. Number one, most women cannot handle how big he is. Number two, Vidya backing out of their deal wasn't an option any more (not that she wanted to). And lastly, gentle and loving sex with her was for pussies like me. Many times during their rough love making, I was ordered into the room while he was wildly fucking Vidya, or doing nasty things to her, and ordered to take videos of their passionate affair. Or take pictures of Vidya with cum on her face, or red marks on her cheeks after being slapped, or stroke marks on her ass after being caned or lashed, or just cum trails down her thighs.

From time to time Mr. Sarun would share these videos, or a few snaps in a WhatsApp group called "Sarun's Leaders". It was a small group of 12 people, including me. Other than me, the rest of the men in that group were influential people on the board of our company. Kumar, Ashish, Kabir -- these were a few of the names I recognized on that chat. All the men in the chat would chuckle and pass raunchy comments on all of Vidya's pictures or videos that Mr. Sarun shared, many a time taunting me.

Bring Bhabhi over sometime

, one of them would comment.

And then leave her with me.

And then others would continue.

Bhabhi has nice big tits

, another would write.

Imagine just how big they will get if she becomes pregnant?

Well

, yet another would reply.

Why don't we find out?

I wondered sometimes where else these videos were being forwarded to.

Or those videos that Ramu the milkman had taken of Vidya giving him a blowjob.

Or the guard Wasim and his friends during their rough gangbang session with my wife.

By now, there were quite a few XXX-rated videos of my darling wife, circulating who knows where.

There was one particular video by Mr. Sarun that really hit me in my guts.

It was a video of Mr. Sarun and Vidya, sitting by the fireplace in their hotel suite in Sri Lanka, kissing. The video had been recorded from the phone, and it was clear Mr. Sarun had propped the phone against a lamp, started to record, and then went and sat down beside my wife. And then they started to kiss.

It was a passionate kiss.

Unlike other videos, they were both clothed. Especially Vidya. And yet ...

Mr. Sarun and Vidya kissed, their mouths hungrily searching for one another, their tongues exploring each other. I don't know why this stung me the most -- Mr. Sarun had certainly done worse to her, but this ... as he kissed her like a lover, and she seemed to be responding, it had hit me hard. I had to shamefully admit that I was a cuckold, and I got aroused seeing my wife taken by a stronger man, but I loved my wife.

Vidya had emphasized to me often, regularly, many times, she loved me -- and me alone -- and it was only sex with Mr. Sarun. Raw, passionate, rough, physical, sex.

And the other men.

But ... that was one passionate kiss. It was the kiss of lovers.

Vidya had obviously not slept with any other man during these five months, as far as I was aware. Her current lover was my boss -- Mr. Sarun -- who could afford to buy a house in Pune and give it as a gift to his raunchy mistress just to make a swimming pool just so he could see her swim naked.

So why was I suddenly wary of these pool construction labourers?

Vidya and I had a good sex life otherwise.

Especially

last week. Vidya knew that this week, and the next two weeks was the only time she could have sex with me. The week after that it would be Mr. Sarun's turn to be with her again -- and this time with the swimming pool. So I was, by default, having sex every other day. And every day for the last three days.

As I parked in my office parking lot, I cleared my head. It was a long day with lots of work lined up. Suddenly my phone rang. It was Mr. Sarun.

"Rajesh! You are still not at your desk?" He was angry.

"I am sorry, Sir." I meekly apologized. "I am just entering the building."

"What do I pay you for, you incompetent man?!" My boss thundered. I was being scolded. "You should have been at your desk half an hour ago!"

"I am really sorry, Sir. Traffic was very bad ..."

"Don't give me excuses, Rajesh! I told you yesterday that I needed you to be on time for today! I have a board meeting in half an hour!"

"I am so sorry, Sir. You see, the pool man ..."

"Oh shut up! Go up and call me at once. We need to discuss the latest inventory figures."

There was only one thing I could say to my wife's lover.

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

It

was

a long day. Around noon, suddenly I realized I hadn't heard anything from home, so I called Vidya. And then ...

I stared at my cell phone. Why wasn't Vidya picking up? I then glanced at the clock. It was 12.30 pm. She

should

be home! Where else would she go?