Preface - This story is the same as Old Man and the Wife but here, the wife narrates. Again, thanks to aurelius1982 who helped me write what was in my head. You can read the husband's narration first. It will put the events here in perspective. This story also fills in some gaps that the other story has. In fact I suggest having both stories open simultaneously to note the different ways in which two people view the same situation.
My name is Shipra and before I get to the events in Las Vegas, I think it'd be useful to talk a little about the relevant portions of my past.
I am the younger of two sisters, born in a family that was very liberal. My parents were both college professors, and they never treated my sister or I like average Indian parents treat girls. We were encouraged to give our best and excel at everything, be it academics or sports.
I was always considered a very cute and pretty child, and was used to attention from everyone. But despite my dainty looks, I was a bit of a tomboy and spent most of my early childhood on the playground with boys. Around age 12 is when the first major changes in my life began. I hit puberty and started growing in every which way. I shot up eight inches in just over a year, and started filling out as well. Initially, I was embarrassed at the unstoppable growth of my boobs. Boys whom I used to play with were starting to notice the change too, leading to some awkwardness. My abnormal height combined with my big boobs led me to unconsciously adopt a hunching posture.
Luckily, my parents were great at communicating with me and explained that I had nothing to be ashamed of. I was told that an ample chest is seen as a sign of beauty, as is being tall, and I should not be ashamed of my body. I stopped hunching, and through my teenage years, came to terms with my looks. I started reading about love and sex, watched sneaked porno films with girlfriends, and was soon fantasizing about naughty things.
It turns out that having encouraging, even demanding parents, can be a bit of a double edged sword in India. Thanks to their pushing, I excelled at studies, sport (played basketball and volleyball for the state), and was well-read and exposed to quality cinema. While my girlfriends read Nancy Drew, I had moved on to Raymond Chandler. When they moved on to trashy Mills&Boons romance novels, I finished Jane Austen. And when they discovered Jane Austen, I was reading the works of Camus, Dostoevsky, Vonnegut, and Borges.
While my parents were proud they were raising such a well-rounded daughter, they didn't realize that it made me something of a snob when it came to my peers. I wasn't a bitch or anything, but I did find it difficult to get interested in guys my age. The good looking jocks were too dumb for me to connect with intellectually. the smart ones were too clumsy, geeky, and awkward around my radiant beauty.
By the time I turned 18, I had briefly dated a few guys, but couldn't really feel too attracted to them. I had a hyperactive imagination when it came to sex and I read about it voraciously. So I had no qualms losing my virginity to a jock one year older to me one weekend when his parents were out of town. We had sex a few more times, but I simply did not get the rush or the excitement I had read so much about. Maybe because he had been a virgin too, and didn't know much of what he was doing. I broke up with him, hooked up with another guy, but again, the mental as well as physical connection was lacking.
I finished 12th grade in the same year my sister finished college. My parents decided to take us on a vacation to Goa. We rented a small beach cabin on South Goa and spent the days lounging on the beach, reading, trying different kinds of seafood, and playing some games.
One night, after my parents had fallen asleep, my sister and I went for a walk on the beach. We didn't want to stray too far that late at night, so we kept doing the rounds of the beach close to our cabin, as we engaged in the usual sisterly talk about boys, clothes, books, and life. My sister was planning on taking the GRE and applying to American grad schools, something my parents were extremely supportive of. She was telling me about her latest break-up, when we noticed a man walking a few feet behind us.
"Hi, sorry if I scared you." the man said in a British accent and approached us.
He was old, maybe in his late 50s. But looked very lean and fit. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and knee-length shorts and had what looked like an expensive SLR camera around his neck. he did not look scary or intimidating at all, so my sister and I stopped to talk to him.
"Hello. My name is Nigel." he said extending his hand towards us. My sister shook it.
"Hi." I said.
"I am sorry, but I couldn't help but notice you as you were walking on the beach." he said, looking at me. "And this may seem abrupt, but have you considered a career in modelling?"
"Excuse me?" my sister jumped in.
"I am a fashion photographer based in London here to scout talent for a modeling assignment. Would you be interested?"
"Shipra?" my sister smiled and looked at me questioningly.
"Ummm.. I don't think I am interested." I said. This wasn't the first time someone had suggested modeling as a career option. When you are a pretty young lady standing at 5 ft 10 in Bombay, you keep getting approached with such offers. But I had no interest in pursuing a career that consisted of starving yourself and strutting around on a ramp.
"Why not? There's good money in it." Nigel said, checking me out from head to toe. I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt.
"We don't need money." my sister barged in. "Thanks but bye."
We walked away giggling. My sister teased me about it for a while and we turned around and continued walking towards the cabin. We were both feeling a little peckish so we decided to stop at a beach shack for some food. I noticed that Nigel was sitting a few tables away drinking beer. He smiled at us when we walked in and we smiled back. The food arrived, we ate and then my sister said she needed to use the bathroom.
As soon as she left, Nigel got up and approached me. I smiled, and he took it as an invitation to sit down, which he did, next to me.
"You really have a gorgeous face." he said leaning close to me.
"Thank you." I said and blushed.
"Amazing tits too."
"Excuse me?!"
I shot him a dirty look but he was unfazed by it. He was very obviously ogling my breasts which were pushing against the t-shirt. At that time, I measured 34D. I expected him to look away, but he didn't. He continued to eye me with a hungry expression on his face. A few seconds later, he said.
"And these legs." and he put his hand on my thigh.
I felt a bolt of electricity surge through my body at his touch. And I felt confused. No other man's touch had ever produced this kind of a reaction from me. I sat there dumbstruck as he gently rubbed my thigh.
"You're a gorgeous little thing that could set the ramp on fire. All these Indian super-models have nothing on you." Nigel said in a husky voice.
That's when we both noticed my sister walking out of the bathroom. He took his hand off my leg and said,
"If you want to discuss this further without big sister snooping around, I am staying at the Palm Resort. Come by tomorrow. Just ask for Nigel at the reception."
I sat there stunned at the pass that had been made at me. My sister sat down and asked what the old Brit wanted. Nothing, I said. He was just saying hi. We got back to the cabin. And I had trouble sleeping. I kept replaying in my mind the moments when he was staring at my breasts and when he had rubbed my thigh. I was taken in by his confidence, something that was lacking in boys my age.
I found myself fantasizing about him. I imaged him fucking me on the beach as the waves washed over us. I imagined him putting his dick in my mouth and making me suck it. The fantasies made me cum hard in bed, and I had to struggle to not make any noise with my sister sleeping on the next bed.
The next morning I stood outside his cabin door in the Palm Resort, unsure about whether I was doing the right thing. I had feigned a headache when my parents woke me up for our planned day-long cruise and convinced them to leave me in the hotel. An hour after my family left for the cruise, I headed over to the Palm Resort.
I finally knocked on the door and Nigel answered it after a couple of minutes. He only had a towel wrapped around his waist, and the sight of his taut hairy chest made my heart skip a beat. he invited me in and rushed to the other room to get dressed. He came out a minute later, wearing only beach shorts. I guess he had seen my taking an admiring look at his chest, so had chosen to remain shirtless.
"So." Nigel said sitting down so close to me that our thighs touched. "You are interested in modelling after all? But your conservative Indian family won't let you try it?"
"Well." I said looking into his deep blue eyes. "My parents are cool with anything I choose. if I decide to get into modelling, they'll support me."
