My Loving Wife Malti Ch 01

My Loving Wife Malti

Copyright ⓒ August 2021 By Vyasya ALL Rights Reserved

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit. This story may be freely distributed for personal use with this notice attached.

This is a completely fictitious story. The characters in the story are real people, and the setting is authentic. It was inspired by some childhood fantasies I had about these characters. I set the story in the early 1980s because these thoughts arose around that time, and it is also easy for me to capture the quirks of that era. You have the authority to determine what is true and what is fiction.

This is a story about a cuckold. A cuckold is a husband who derives pleasure from his partner's sex with other men. If this isn't your thing, don't offend yourself and move on.

You are committing an act of perversion by reading this story, and there are no better or worse types of perversions, only those that you like and those that you don't like.

This story is about a husband-wife-and-another-man relationship in which the husband is not the equal of the wife and the wife gravitates toward the other man for sex. The wife is shown to prefer having a deep, intimate bond with another man for extended periods of time and values it more than her marriage. Please refrain from offending yourself, if this is not your thing.

You have been cautioned!

Chapter 1 - Introductions

Malti (means a fragrant flower), and I are a married couple living in Mumbai. We have three children and have been married for six years. Malti, at 28, is a stunningly beautiful woman and my only love in life. Ours is a love marriage, and like many other rebellious couples, we eloped and married in order to avoid her parents' disapproval. She is a Marathi Konkanastha Brahmin, while I am an ordinary Marathi man. She is very fair, with pale skin complexion, big beautiful eyes, and full pink lips. Her body is delicate - standing at just 5' 3" with a slender and proportionate figure. I am on the darker side, not completely dark, but treated as such. I am 5' 4" and with a medium build. My name is Sanjay.

Side note: Konkanastha Brahmins are Brahmins from the coastal region of Konkan in Maharashtra. They are known to be the fairest Brahmins in the Maharashtra state of India. Due to their fair, pale complexion, light brown eyes they can even pass off as Caucasians. Unlike Caucasians, however, they don't have blonde hair. There are several theories about their origins but that is not of interest in this story.

I was the eldest of three children in my family. The younger two children died at a young age as a result of various diseases. My father also died before I turned ten. So it was just my mother, my wife, and me at home. In Mumbai, we lived in a building with a Chawl system, in the same house where I grew up.

My wife comes from an affluent family. As a result, her decision to embrace a mundane life in the face of opposition from her family surprised me. We met through mutual acquaintances about 12 years ago. I was drawn to her from the beginning, and she quickly realized that. It took us a year to even talk to each other.

I was taken aback when she agreed to meet me alone. We hadn't expressed our emotions to each other, but our eyes had said a lot. We enjoyed long evening walks along the seashore and visiting the beach on occasion. She came from a liberal family, so it was easy for her to get away on some pretext or another.

We looked forward to our weekly excursions, and it didn't take long for us to hold hands. We hadn't confessed our feelings for each other yet, but it was clear that we loved each other. However, in our society, such fantasies are unheard of. She came to our house dozens of times with her friends, ostensibly to get study tips or share notes. My mother was aware of what we were up to, and was pleased with my decision.

After about a year, we talked about our relationship and discussed our future plans. I was torn; I loved her but wasn't sure if I could provide a good life for her. Her visits became more frequent after she decided to marry me regardless of her parents' approval.

We had a divorced neighbor named Kishore, whom everyone addressed as Kishore bhai (brother). He had been our neighbor since my parents moved into that flat, so he was almost like family to us. He was, however, a well-known and perpetual lecher in our Chawl. Everyone knew he wouldn't mind sleeping with their wives, but no one dared to challenge him.

Some of his antiques had piqued the interest of a few women. I'd seen him confidently hit on women from our chawl; he had a talent for seducing women and a keen sense of who would fall for him. He was a fighter who refused to give up no matter how many rejections he received.

Kishore bhai was the only son of his parents and came from a Kutchi family. He made a good living for himself despite his humble beginnings. In the last 15 years, he has been married three times. His first wife died in the first year while giving birth; unfortunately, the child did not survive either. He divorced his second wife after ten years because she was unable to bear children for him, and his third wife divorced him a few years ago.

None of his wives were particularly attractive, but his third wife was adorable and the youngest. She, on the other hand, was quite short (4' 10") and unusually weak. People in the Chawl frequently wondered how she could bear this man's weight during sex. The first and second wives were both obese, and the second wife was also ugly.

He was quite tall, about 6', and towered over me, allowing him to frequently boss me around. However, he was significantly overweight, possibly 100 kg (220 lbs). Nonetheless, he would frequently describe himself as "well-built." He had dark skin, several shades darker than mine. His face was covered in chicken pox marks, making him appear much uglier than he was. His thick stubble did nothing to improve the appearance of his face. His only saving grace was his long, silky hair, which he took good care of. It made him appear younger than other men in their forties.

He smoked on occasion but drank on a regular basis. He introduced me to the drinking game; I had learned that completely avoiding it was not a good strategy, so I would accompany him on occasion. Furthermore, at my mother's request, he would try to mentor me, and to some extent, he had influenced me.

"If you are born poor, curse your fate; if you die poor, curse yourself," he would often say. He recognized my sincerity and backed me up financially. Furthermore, he assisted us with our studies and even assisted me in starting my own business, which was still in its early stages. During our drinking sessions, he would frequently drop hints about understanding human nature.

In his early years, he worked as a salesperson and had gone to great lengths to land big deals. He was wealthy and could afford a posh apartment in Mumbai, but he was afraid it would make him lonely. He knew a lot of people here, and besides, he considered us to be his family. He had written an entire thesis on women and advised me to be cautious around them. He had cheated on 35 women and had multiple affairs with married women at the same time. This was mostly in his twenties and early thirties; after that, things slowed down for him.

He had no qualms about objectifying women in front of me. He believed that there are three types of women: those who arouse lust in you, those who you long to be with, and those whom you avoid or ignore. He warned me that when it comes to marriage, a woman's character is far more important than her looks. A good wife prioritizes her husband's and family's needs over her own, making her a much better woman to marry.

Most men make the classic mistake of marrying a lustful and self-centered woman. This is the worst combination because the vast majority of men lack the ability to keep such women happy or sexually satisfied. He cheated on such women because they were an easy target for him. I remember telling him once that a lot of people gossip about your bad hygiene behind your back. He was unconcerned about it, saying, "Never trust women on such matters because they say one thing and mean another." It may surprise you, but many women are drawn to that manly odor that they claim to dislike in public.

We once got into a moral debate, but he wasn't bothered by such trivial societal concerns. He was performing a social service because these women were not sexually satisfied in their marriages, and by having sex with them, he was able to keep their marriages alive. Given the importance of women in our lives, keeping them sexually satisfied should be a top priority. He went on to rant about how some men married very attractive women but lacked the ability to keep them happy.

He gave me the example of a 25-year-old young woman who seemed like a perfect target for him because her husband couldn't take care of her. After five years, he finally mounted her and gave her the real pleasure she deserved all along. He couldn't understand why the husband would deprive his wife of this pleasure. Despite the fact that he did not provide many details, I had guessed the woman he was referring to because I knew he had slept with her. Sex, he would argue, is a physical necessity that should not be confused with love. If the husband had recognized his wife's needs from the start, she would have been far happier in the marriage. According to him, a woman can easily appease 2-3 men sexually.

When Malti first entered my life and it became clear that we were in love, he told my mother, "Sanjay is lucky; she is a good match." Soon after, during our drinking session, the subject of Malti came up, and I asked him, "Kishore bhai, what do you think of Malti?"

"She's a nice girl; don't be late," he advised.

"How do you rate her personality?"

"Golden; she'd make an excellent wife!"

"Please excuse my language," he continued, "but you know I always think with my dick."

"She is the type of woman who can elicit lust in a 60-year-old man while also having a very good character. In today's world, this is a difficult combination to find. But you'll have to be on your toes to keep her happy."

I knew he was only thinking lustfully about Malti. In any case, nothing else could have been expected of him. Malti knew him well by then and always addressed him with respect. I noticed that whenever he mentally undressed Malti, I got a strong erection. It was a strange feeling that I couldn't quite put my finger on at the time. With each passing month, it became clear that this truly piqued my interest. I would frequently masturbate just picturing him with Malti. Fortunately, subsequent conversations with him clarified that I wasn't weird.

The question on my mind was how the husband was unaware of this. He had affairs with over 20 women, after all. With the majority of these women, it was not a one-time occurrence. He then told me that while some men were unaware, a large number of them were aware and simply turned a blind eye. This astounded me to my core; I couldn't believe such a thing could happen.

He went on to say that some even encouraged their wives to mate with him. This was the point at which I realized I was experiencing similar emotions. I thought he was a real stud who could please any woman, and I wanted Malti to be happy; sexually satisfied. Nothing less would suffice for me because I adored her so much. It was a bonus that I could get off on those thoughts.

During one of our drinking sessions a few months before our wedding, he brought up the subject of Malti. He was inebriated when he said, "Yesterday I met Malti; she has turned out to be a fine woman." Seriously, man, she's a real hottie."

"Some women are so hot and well built that they can really deliver 4-5 children, but some are so hot that even if they are not built to deliver many children, you would still want to impregnate them as many times as possible. Malti is one of them," he explained.

I ignored his conversation because he was inebriated. However, I was certain that this man was going to take Malti, whether I liked it or not.

In Mumbai, we lived in a large chawl. A chawl is a common building with apartments next to each other; each apartment's doors open into a common patio. Ours was a U-shaped structure. We lived on the top floor, along one of the U-bends. Kishore bhai's apartment was at the far end of the bend, and ours was right next door. Our apartments did not face the open space in the center of the building because of the apartments at the bottom of the U-shape. This provided some privacy because people who were only on our aisle could see us if we stood outside our door, on the patio, or on the balcony.

Our apartment was a small room with a kitchen and a bathroom in each corner, separated by a window that opened behind the building. It was a single room, perhaps 10 ft x 20 ft - a reasonable size for a Mumbai apartment. As was common in these buildings, toilets were located in the center of each floor. We had our own bathroom, which made bathing and washing dishes and clothes more convenient.

One room was definitely a problem for us because there was no privacy for us. My mother would sleep in the night to the side of the room where the kitchen was, while we slept by the door. We used a thick curtain as a separator, but it didn't give us the confidence to shed our inhibitions. Malti was too afraid of being caught or overheard by my mother to engage in sex.

Malti was only 21 when we married, and I was 24, so we debated delaying starting a family. We reasoned that our current residence was too small to accommodate a child. We used condoms for protection; anyway, she was uncomfortable having actual intercourse because she was afraid of making noises and waking up my mother. We didn't have actual sexual relations until the second week after our marriage. Even then, it was such a brief and insignificant affair that I was embarrassed by my own performance. Malti, fortunately, was too concerned to notice my poor performance. We had to resort to fondling and actual oral sex. We also indulged in some deep French kissing. All of these things were not common during our time, but we had no choice.

I was too enthralled by her beauty the first night we slept together to do anything. I just kept staring at her through the small bedside night light. We both knew she was stunning and far out of my league. We talked about trivial matters for about 15-20 minutes before she softly asked, "Are you going to do anything at all or just keep staring at me?"

I took a step forward and kissed her soft, pink lips. They were so soft; she parted her lips and I smelled her fresh breath. My tongue caressed her tongue as I sucked on her lower lip slowly. We kissed for a few minutes, and when she broke it, she asked, "You waited too long for this?" Isn't that so?"

I slowly unhooked her blouse, and she assisted me in unhooking her bra. I expected her to object, but she assisted me, and then I noticed her amazing breasts. They were approximately the size of small grapefruits. Her areolas were about the size of a one rupee coin. Her nipples were the size of small raisins.

As I examined her breasts, she blushed but was not embarrassed. Her areolas were lighter in color, matching her skin tone. Her breasts appeared to be lovely and substantial on her chest. I showered kisses on her breasts before sucking on her areola and nipples. When I bit her non-existent nipple, she moaned softly.

After what seemed like an eternity of playing with her breasts, she drew me in for a kiss and kissed me hard. It was intense and profound. As if she were the aggressor and I were the victim. She reached for my penis and squeezed it, saying, "Aren't you going to show it to me?"

"Let's hurry," I suggested, "mother might notice we've been at it for a long time."

"Let's try 69 instead of intercourse for today then," she said with a smile.

Malti was my dream girl, and despite the fact that I thought I knew her well, I didn't. She was far more daring than I had anticipated. She was also a brave woman to take the risk of marrying me and foregoing many of life's comforts. I never expected her to bring up the subject of oral sex, let alone in the way she did.

As we attempted to get into position, she gave us a mischievous smile.

"You had to marry me before you could kiss me. I would have lost 5 years if I had waited for you to suggest it."

She removed my underwear and examined my slender penis. She looked at it with interest and tried to pull back the foreskin. Her hands gently massaged my testicles as she said, "Now you get to see what you've been waiting for."

Malti lifted her Saree and slid forward on my chest, revealing her pussy. She'd already gotten rid of her pantyhose. In the dim light of the bedside lamp, I could clearly see her pussy covered in hair. She held up the Saree for me to see the thin slit with the help of a torch. Her pussy lips were pinkish red, with a tiny slit glistening with her juices. I drew her to my face and began to eat her away. Malti shuddered as soon as she felt the pleasant sensations. Her pussy was spotless and odor-free.

She licked my tongue for a few moments before turning around into the actual position. For a long time, we delighted in each other's company. I ejaculated in 5 minutes, but Malti needed relief, so I continued for another 10 minutes.

When we finally calmed down, she asked, "Did you imagine it this way?"

"This is different," I commented. She gave me a warm hug and a smile.

In the following weeks, our sex life didn't change much; she was nervous about making tnoise during intercourse. Her soft moans were already audible. In the back of my mind, I kept picturing her having sex with my next-door neighbor, Kishore bhai.

The stark contrast in their skin tones added to the intrigue. I was irritated that I couldn't have intercourse, but I was also worried about Kishore bhai stealing her virginity.

Malti was a nice and caring person. It didn't take her long to make friends in the building. Everyone envied my good fortune! None of them failed to notice the stark contrast between her pale skin and my dark skin. We agreed to look past people's lighthearted jokes because the difference was obvious.

Malti was a primary school teacher who left early in the morning and returned after lunch. I worked at a small computer firm and ran my own small computer company; computers had begun to take off, but they were still quite expensive, and only large corporations or the ultra-wealthy could afford them. Due to the two jobs, I worked long hours and frequently returned late at night; sometimes I worked on Sundays as well. It was our life, and Malti stood by me, knowing the importance of laying a solid foundation.

We were frustrated with our situation at times, but Malti reassured me that our future was bright. We were hardworking and optimistic people. We did have a few opportunities when our Mother went out for errands, but we were too conscious to take full advantage of them. It certainly made our lives more interesting. We were into French kissing and oral sex, which I couldn't say about many other couples at the time. We began with them without hesitation. We were at ease discussing these topics outside of bed, at least using code language.

Even so, our fears would prevent us from having physical intimacy at night. Outside of Mumbai, such concerns were unheard of. There was a scarcity of space, which had interesting consequences. We would pray that my mother would be tired and quickly fall asleep, and on the days when she did, we would take more risks and venture further. We consummated our marriage in the 3rd week at the beginning of Ganesh festival. My mother wanted to see the idols of various mandals, which was a big deal back then.