Preet Kaur The Town Whore Ch 07

Copyright ⓒ January 2023 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 and is loosely based on the circumstances of a chat friend of mine.

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 perversion, 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 7 - Beginning of a new chapter

Inder’s father had not visited the United States since we married. He made at least one trip to see Inder every year and usually stayed for a couple of months. We knew he had a mistress around Inder’s age. She was married and had two children, who were allegedly fathered by him. He led a nomadic existence and had few attachments. He didn’t get along with Anju, so he rarely stayed at their house. That’s one reason Anju suggested we host him during his visits.

He was 58, but appeared to be in good shape—he’d lost a few pounds—and most people thought of him as Inder’s older brother. As stated in the previous story, he was a disciplined man who always woke up before sunrise and went for his morning walks, no matter how late he went to bed. He was dressed simply, as was his habit, and appeared to have arrived after an overnight journey.

Inder’s father arrived at 9:30 a.m. and knocked on the door. Preet had only just awoken and hadn’t even showered when her mother summoned her. She dashed downstairs in her nightgown when she heard about him. She didn’t even have time to change her clothes or freshen up before rushing downstairs. She went inside after exchanging greetings to make tea and breakfast for him. I awoke only a few minutes later after hearing them outside talking as she greeted him. I tried to ignore the noise, but it persisted for a while, so I became curious and went downstairs.

I met Inder’s father downstairs, took his blessings, and talked with him. Preet’s father didn’t seem happy and sat in the corner, ignoring both of us. Preet’s father was still recovering from his surgery. They had removed his cast but advised him to not put too much stress on that leg, so he continued to use his crutches and avoided unnecessary walking. Inder’s father arrived with only one bag, as I had not seen him for several years. I entered the kitchen, where Preet and her mother were hurriedly preparing breakfast.

My eyes popped out the moment I saw Preet, who was still in her nightgown. She always wore sexy nightgowns with a lot of cleavage, but she recently went braless. Because she was afraid her father would object to her lingerie, she chose one that was more modest and exposed less skin. Her bust had expanded significantly because of her pregnancy, and the sensual, body-hugging silk gown did nothing but highlight her shapely breasts. As if that wasn’t enough, her perfect ass, including the pantie line, was on display. She frowned and playfully patted my bum as I licked my lips and gazed at her heavenly body.

“What’s going on?” I inquired.

“Inder’s father was stranded because of the spread of a new virus and is staying with us,” she explained.

“What happened to our Palace on Wheels tour?” I inquired. “Oh, that,” she gulped her saliva. “That was apparently canceled.”

“What happened to Daddy?” I inquired. “He doesn’t appear to be in good spirits.”

Both the mother and the daughter were laughing. Finally, her mother muttered, “He is always grumpy. But now that Preet is asserting her newfound independence, he is voicing his displeasure.”

“What kind of independence?” I inquired. Preet stood there sucking her lips as her mother whispered, “Daddy is a traditionalist. Doesn’t like women flaunting their beauty in modern dresses. He is annoyed that she came downstairs in her nightgown.”

I didn’t talk to him much, so I wasn’t always aware of his moods. Preet’s mother was friendly. I remember having a mild erection when I realized how Preet was dressed, and that too, in front of Inder’s father. Preet was obviously not wearing a bra inside, but that was part of her allure. Even if she was dressed like a slut, she possessed the natural charm and aura to blame the circumstances rather than herself.

As I walked out of the kitchen, I heard Preet’s mother say, “Your husband is completely fine with this, as you said.”

“Your father would have killed me if I had freely displayed my breasts,” she added.

Inder’s father attempted to speak with Preet’s father, but he was evasive and answered in monosyllables. After a few moments, I noticed them having a meaningful conversation. I continued to move back and forth between the living room and the kitchen, striking up conversations with Inder’s father. I found an appropriate moment to tell Preet, “Your dress is too revealing.”

“Really? Are you having a hard-on?” She teased.

“Doing all of this in front of your parents isn’t right,” I reasoned.

“I’m doing nothing. merely amusing our visitors. Besides, isn’t he like my father-in-law?” She mumbled.

She walked out carrying two plates of breakfast before I could say anything. She gave one to her father and placed the other on the table in front of Inder’s father. As she bent forward, I could see her pantie line, and I knew Inder’s father could see her dangling breasts. I did not know she’d turned into such a slut in just over a year. She returned to hand over tea cups and paraded herself in front of them once more.

I went upstairs to freshen up. When I arrived downstairs, there seemed to be a disagreement about where Inder’s father should stay. Preet’s father insisted on him staying in the spare bedroom downstairs with them. I’m not sure if I was relieved or disappointed to hear that, but Preet guided me inside.

“Our Palace on Wheels trip has been canceled. That’s why Inder’s father is here,” she told me.

“What?” I inquired. She sighed, rolling her eyes.

“I don’t have time to elaborate. Persuade my father to let him stay upstairs with us.” She went on.

“Why?”

“Do you want him to seduce my mother?” She seethed and smacked me on my back.

“Ouch.”

I needed to calm things down, so I went and convinced both of them. Preet’s father agreed reluctantly, and it was unclear where his reservation came from. Inder’s father needed to make a few long-distance calls, so I led him to the nearest cyber cafe. He couldn’t use our phones to make the calls and also had some personal work he preferred to do at the cafe. I returned right away because the cafe wasn’t far away and he needed an hour.

The downstairs door was shut, so I didn’t knock and headed upstairs when I heard Preet’s parents talk. I suspected the conversation was about Inder’s father and decided it would be best if I listened in.

“You have no shame. Being so impolite in front of him. Don’t you realize? He’s almost her father-in-law.” Preet’s mother chastised her husband.

“Do you think I’m stupid? I told you he’d be on the train that night,” he shot back.

“And I’ve heard it so many times before,” she grumbled. “So, what?”

“A family member saw him alone with Preet in her compartment,” he explained.

“And then what?”

“She had vanished from her berth in the middle of the night. What could she be doing at that hour?”

“You’ve married off your daughter,” she sternly stated. “Stop worrying about her and policing her. She is no longer your responsibility.”

“She lives upstairs with her husband. Why are you bothered if an elderly member of his family lives with them?”

“Because I saw her walk out of his cabin late at night,” he mumbled finally.

Preet’s mother was taken aback. She sat on the couch with her mouth covered. For the next few minutes, there was a pensive silence, and I worried that there would be an explosion and they would both come upstairs to talk to Preet about it.

Preet’s mother held him briefly and said, “What she does now is entirely her responsibility. We have completed our role and must trust that she will do what is best for her. Let’s never bring it up again.”

“I witnessed her enter his cabin at that ungodly hour and spend nearly an hour with him. He was the only one in that cabin. What else could they possibly be doing?”

“Why didn’t you stop her?” Preet’s mother inquired, concerned.

“I’m not sure what to say to her. I was furious, but all I did was wait for her to leave his cabin.”

“I guess you never told Preet about it?” she inquired.

“Obviously. Which father talks about such things with his daughter?”

“Let it go. It is not up to us to tell her what she should do,” she said, her voice unusually stern.

I knocked on the door to diffuse the situation. I did not know how I planned to do it, but I went ahead.

“Preet has locked the room,” I excused myself. “Babuji is at a cyber cafe and will be back in an hour.”

“Are you comfortable hosting him upstairs?” she inquired, concerned. “You’re a newlywed couple; you’d need privacy, right? We can give him the downstairs spare bedroom.”

“No mother. Don’t be concerned,” I said. “Preet enjoys his company. She is friendly with him and has spoken to him several times on the phone. He’d stay with us anyway during his visits.”

“Why isn’t he staying at Inder’s?”

“Do you know how it is these days with daughter-in-laws? They are so self-centered. Anju does not get along with him. He rarely stayed at Inder’s place all these years.”

“Besides, he has an unusual food taste. It’s better if Preet prepares food for him upstairs,” I added.

“What does he eat?”

“He avoids carbohydrates. So no rice, roti, paratha, and so on. He mostly eats steak, fish, and eggs with a side of salad. He prefers organ meats as delicacies. He enjoys goat testicles and oysters.”

Preet’s mother was perplexed, so I told her. “Mummy, don’t worry. He is an ex-army man with his own quirks. I don’t want to inconvenience either of you. Daddy’s recovery is more important.”

“What kind of man is he?” she inquired as we both entered the kitchen.

“Why?”

“Preet’s father is concerned about his roving eyes,” she stated flatly. “And Preet has always been the mischievous one. Didn’t you notice how she strutted around in that silky gown? It doesn’t seem appropriate.”

“Mummy, men are men. Inder’s father is a young man at heart. Everyone regards him as Inder’s older brother. If he had been in the US, he would have stayed with us. Preet chose rather conservative nightgowns for her India trip. The ones she wears at home are much more revealing. If Daddy saw her in those, he’d have a heart attack.”

She playfully patted my back. “Still, be careful. He can guess a person’s character just by looking at them. He didn’t like Inder or his father at the wedding.”

“Mummy, they are like family to me. I don’t have much of a choice,” I said. I could see why her parents were worried. I was astounded to learn that Preet’s father was aware of her secret rendezvous with Inder’s father. It must have been terrifying for the poor guy. Preet told me about her strict upbringing, and he was partly to blame for her early inhibitions in the bedroom. And maybe her new slutty avatar was just a sign of rebellion.

I got very little sleep the night before. Her story was so intense that I kept waking up, picturing Inder or Adarsh mounting Preet. She didn’t sleep well, either, and when I hugged her and pressed my crotch against her buttocks, I felt her push back. I inserted my hand into her underwear and began massaging her pussy. I latched onto her lips as she turned to face me. We kissed with our morning breaths all the time, and it never bothered us.

I began my slow fingering. Mounting her was out of the question because she had told me there would be no sex for me until we returned to the US.

“Would you have married Inder?” I inquired.

She was sluggish, moaning and slowly undulating her hips. Inder, like his father, led a nomadic existence. He lived in a small apartment and shared his bed with Adarsh at the time. It didn’t bother him because all of his business took place away from home. He had a nanny who assisted him when he couldn’t stay at home all night. Anju had been married to Inder for slightly over 6 years and had struggled greatly to have his two children. Preet became pregnant right away, and the thought weighed heavily on my mind. She believed she could easily deliver three children. If Preet had married as soon as she turned 18, she would have been married to him for 8 years and had four children, with the possibility of a fifth if Inder pushed her hard enough. Inder cherished having children—or at least the idea of having them.

“You would have been only 18 then, and Adarsh would have been only 10,” I kissed her.

I recall him telling me that Anju would complain about sharing a bed with Adarsh. They had sex in the living room for a few months before moving to their current home. I was curious if Preet felt the same way.

“Wouldn’t you enjoy it? Inder mounting you every night while Adarsh slept in the same bed next to you?”

“Uh...” she grunted as my fingers pushed in far too quickly. She was a complete slut who would never refuse her alphas if they approached her, no matter how tired she was.

“You are so wicked,” she muttered. I kissed her passionately as she lifted her buttocks and pushed against my fingers. Her dry pussy was getting wetter by the second.

“You’ll oblige, Inder, no matter what?” I said. “You would sleep every night on their king-sized bed, right next to Adarsh, while wearing this sexy nightgown of yours. Wouldn’t you?”

Preet’s pussy, completely saturated with her lubricating juices, gave me the answer. I kept fingering, enjoying every moment. It was a strong sensation because we didn’t seem to care about our breath or body odor. Preet used to shower every night before bed, but I’d noticed recently that she was skimping on it. And I, too, was in such a frenzy that such details didn’t bother me.

“Would you avoid wearing a bra?” I muttered.

She pushed back against my intruding fingers. She was now imitating that fucking motion by pushing against it rhythmically. Preet then urged me to insert more of her fingers into her pussy as she began to enjoy my fingers and the scenario we were creating in our minds.

Inder was still working hard to build his empire at the time. He had a lot of businesses, but they weren’t fully established and he didn’t trust a lot of people. So his hours were unusual, and he didn’t have time for the elaborate sex that Preet had with him in the previous months. He’d leave early in the morning and come home for dinner. So, if sex had to happen every night, he couldn’t spare more than an hour; knowing Preet, that was a real possibility. So sex on their bed would have been the most likely scenario in her case.

“Would it worry you if Adarsh awoke?” I inquired of her.

“Uh...” she grunted, shamelessly lifting her pelvis and inviting me to go even further.

“Surely, under Inder’s massive weight, the bed would creak rhythmically,” I added.

Preet was delirious as she rocked her pelvis back and forth, making rapid fucking motions. It was an animalistic lust. We kissed passionately for several minutes while I fucked her with my fingers furiously.

“Uh... Uh... Uh...” she whimpered, and I whispered into her ears, “How would you explain those wet spots on the bed to Adarsh every morning?”

It was enough for her to shudder with climax. She fell back, uttering a series of “Oh my gods...” in her guttural voice.

“That was intense,” she remarked as she caught her breath. “Wouldn’t it have been great if we could have brought Marcus?”

I was in a better state and didn’t need the relief because I had stroked myself a few hours before, and I didn’t think Preet cared. She changed her soaking pantie, which were completely drenched, and slept soundly. Her radiant face told me she was relieved and well rested this morning. It could, however, have been because of the arrival of her first lover. I went upstairs and confronted Preet as some of these thoughts ran through my head. Preet was still in her robe and had just exited the bathroom.

“Why don’t you lock the room?” I expressed my displeasure.

“I don’t need another father in my life.” She retorted, rolling her eyes.

“Well, you’ve caused quite a commotion with your slutty behavior in front of your family,” I said.

Her dark-blue nightgown was made of the thinnest satin silk material, which hugged her skin but not as tightly as the chiffon. Her chest was beautifully framed by the netted, florally embroidered heart-shaped neckline. Her grapefruit-sized breasts were perfectly outlined, and her tiny nipples made the perfect impression against the material. As it fell down, the dress gently caressed her shapely buttocks. The pantie line was apparent, especially when she leaned forward. Her milky white complexion stood out so beautifully against the dark fabric that I knew Inder’s father was swooning over her.

“If my father had his way,” she retorted. “He’ll make me dress like a man, so no one notices how beautiful his daughter is.”

“Besides, he’s seen a lot more,” she continued.

“They’re aware of it as well, and we’re discussing it,” I muttered.

Preet’s behavior is borderline reckless. Earlier in the marriage, she was so prim and proper, but she was still a little receptive in bed. Later on, especially after the anniversary, she morphed into a carefree slut. She suddenly exposed her breasts to some truckers a week before we flew to India. I was stunned by her action and had to exit the freeway to avoid further embarrassment. Whatever she did in private, away from the prying eyes of the world, didn’t bother me, no matter how depraved or perverted the act was. I still expected her to be a good wife on the outside. That’s what living in a society required: conforming to the norms of the social strata we belonged to.

“So?” she retorted, echoing her mother. It was strange. Perhaps Preet inherited her mother’s slutty genes. Even at her age, she might have entertained quite a few men if she had complete freedom. She was 43 years old and, according to Preet, still capable of becoming pregnant. At the wedding, I was astounded by her beauty and knew she inherited all of her mother’s beauty genes. Preet’s mother, like Anupam Kher in the Hindi film “Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge,” believed that Preet should enjoy even her share of spoils. Realizing that with her indifferent behavior she was getting on my nerves, she turned to me and said, “Stop with your sulking and apply some lotion to my legs. I want my skin to be soft and youthful for him.”

She knew I enjoyed pampering her by doing such things for her. As I approached the window, I noticed Preet frowning. We lived in a densely populated area, and some of our neighbors could see into our upstairs bedrooms through the windows, so we had to be cautious. Preet, on the other hand, had begun to enjoy her freedom and was less concerned about it. She proudly lifted her leg and placed it on the bed. I knelt in front of her, admiring her shapely, milky white legs, which she had meticulously waxed. I imagined how her father would have felt if she had dressed in her regular, silky kameez-style nightgowns, exposing her legs in all their glory. Those had a split on the sides, which added to the sexiness by exposing her panties.