This is a story about an email friend of mine. Having retired from his job, he reflected on his own life experiences. Getting on the internet, he stumbled upon various cuckolding stories and satiated his curiosity. Some of my stories reminded him of his background, and he reached out, sharing his own experiences. As usual, I have taken liberties to make the story enjoyable for my readers.
This is a cuckold story. A cuckold is a husband who receives vicarious pleasure from his partner's having sex with other men. If this is not your thing, please stop offending yourself and move on.
By reading this story, you are committing an act of perversion, and there are no better or worse kinds of perversion, only the ones that you like and the ones that you don't like.
This story explores the husband-wife-and-another-man relationship where the husband is not equal to the wife in the relationship and the wife gravitates towards the other man for sex. The wife prefers having a deep, intimate bond with the other man for prolonged periods of time and gives it more importance than her relationship with the husband. If this is not your thing, please stop offending yourself and move on.
You have been warned!
Priyamani the Seductress
I am a 60-year-old man who has been married for over 35 years to my lovely wife, who is 5 years younger than me. We have four children, three sons and a daughter. All of our children are married, and we have several grandchildren now. I retired from the civil service after serving for over 30 years. I am a shy and reserved person in my friend's circle and often prefer solitude over the company of others. My strange history urged me to get on the internet and better understand and appreciate it. Until then, I shunned computers and preferred to work the old-fashioned way. Surprised to learn about this, I thought of penning my story for the benefit of readers.
I come from a small village in South India. We are from a backward, oppressed caste. Even today, in our village, we still have to endure a lot of insults. We live in a city now, and also, because of my status and power, a lot of the discrimination has waned away.
The story starts in the late 1960s, when I was perhaps 7 years old. I was an only child and lived with my mother and father on a small farm on the outskirts of our village. My mother was perhaps 26 years old at the time, and my father was quite older than her, at perhaps 41 years old. My mother was a beautiful woman with a fair complexion. I saw her mostly in a tanned state because of her constant work in the field, though. Her name was Priyamani, but everyone knew her by the shortened version of her name--Mani. It may be interesting to note that she had a striking resemblance to the actress Priyamani from South India. My mother, who was a Brahmin, was raped by a lower caste man, for which her family ostracized her. When I was 6 years old, she married my father, even though he was a man of low caste. We are from Andhra Pradesh state, near the border of Tamil Nadu, but now live in one of the big coastal cities of Andhra.
My mother was considered quite tall at 5'7" in those days, with a proportionate figure and large breasts. Her fair skin drew plenty of men to our farms, as it was uncommon to find light-skinned people among the commoners in our area. She was a tough, strong-willed woman and kept everyone at bay. However, the Zamindar from that area heard about her beauty and frequented our house on some pretext or another. He got into bed with her after helping free my father, who had been locked up after a petty quarrel with some well-to-do folks in the village.
I was 10 years old when I first saw the old landlord make love to my mother. Other women visited his quarters for such illicit affairs, but my mother refused to see him anywhere else. So, he would come to our house, mostly at night. My father would be out in the field watching for wild hogs and other pests that ruined the crops. At that age, all I knew was that they were indulging in something forbidden and nothing beyond that. The significance of his visits dawned on me as I grew older, at which point it scarred my psyche. I loved her and never thought of judging her. She was a practical woman who made decisions with our family's best interests in mind.
Watching her cuckold my father had left an indelible impression on my mind. I remember getting sexually excited when I would find out that one of her lovers was going to pay her a visit that night. Once I grew up, they sent me to boarding school, so I never saw her while having sex. So, it was just my imagination most of the time. The only time I saw them was at that single event, when I was too young to grasp it.
In the light of a lantern, I saw him fondle my mother's body as she lay on the bed where my father used to sleep. The stark contrast between my mother's and his complexion was clear even in that dark room. She turned off the lantern after a few minutes, so I could only hear them. After about 10 minutes, the bed creaked with regular frequency as he humped her. I heard her softly moaning for five more minutes, and then it was over.
I clearly recalled them speaking in code language the next day about his visit. It seems he knew about the Zamindar's nocturnal visits. They talked about "good" or "bad" times, which I came to interpret as the "fertile" period or the "menstrual cycle." Since it was a "good" time, he concluded, he may visit her again. It was just a childlike curiosity, with no sexual feelings, and I never stayed up long enough to see what else may have happened that night.
There was an intense yearning and desire to learn about her sex life. They shuttled me to a boarding school as soon as I turned 13, only a few years after that first episode. I imagined her mating with other men too, but she kept a lot of men at bay and only encouraged the Zamindar. This deep seated desire transformed into a desperate need to see my wife someday with another man. I didn't wait long and felt the gut-wrenching pangs for the first time. It was around that time that my father came to my rescue, helped me understand my quandary, and guided me on my cuckold journey. He was a soft-spoken, mellow, kindhearted man and took special care of me as I was not his biological child and also because I lived away from them for most of my life--first for studies and then for work.
Before I narrate my story, I intend to explain the background story about my mother. It is, however, best told from my father's perspective, as he was very close to it and it is his story to a great extent. The rest of the narration in this chapter is from his perspective.
The word about Mani's beauty spread in our village as soon as we arrived. Everyone envied me and tried to score opportunities with her. She was a hardworking woman and spent a lot of time on the fields, so a lot of people had time to check her out, but none could touch her. Once, someone tried taking liberties, and she put a machete on his neck and challenged him. No one has dared to cross her path ever since. Even the Zamindar heard about her fiery temperament and steered clear of her. However, he was attracted to her and knew that she was a young woman, and an ordinary old man like myself couldn't do justice to her beauty and youth. Mani was only 25, and I was 15 years older than her. He was a powerful man and had enjoyed the pleasures of plenty of women, but seemed to have been smitten by her.
Mani was an educated woman; she had cleared the intermediate exam, which was uncommon for even most men to clear in those days. Still grounded in reality, she had come around to accepting her fate. I felt I would repulse her, but when she lovingly accepted me the same night we reached our home, I knew she had no remorse. Self-pity was not her thing. She accepted life's challenges, put her best foot forward, and left the rest to God. She would freshen herself every night before hitting the bed to greet me. When she was tired, she hesitated.
At 5'5", I was two inches shorter than her, but she never spoke about it. She had large grapefruit sized breasts and a warm, soft, moist vagina that seemed perfect. The first night, when I approached her, I thought she would refuse. She took her time to ensure that her young boy was fast asleep before coming to me.
Laying next to me, she softly kissed my lips and rested her head on my chest. She was fresh like rain and young, like a newly budding flower.
"I know you were worried about the difference between our ages and looks. It doesn't bother me," she said. "You mean the world to me. I don't want you to worry about such things anymore. I am your wife and always available to you."
That was enough for me to feel content that night, but I didn't want to disappoint her. I fondled her body, kissed her cheeks and neck, and suckled on her large tits. She relished it, and we consummated our marriage that night. I couldn't stay inside her for more than a few minutes, but she didn't complain. We slept on that small bed in each other's arms, chatting about small things and dozing off. An hour later, I mounted her again, and this time I stroked for over 10 minutes, and we both climaxed together.
Mani enjoyed sex and was uninhibited during our sessions. In the first year, we did it twice every day. In the first few months, we did it twice in the night and once during the day. Even though kissing on the lips was uncommon, she allowed me to kiss her lips. She even allowed me to French kiss her when she was sufficiently worked up. Tasting her saliva and sucking on her tongue was a surreal experience. During her periods, dry humping and kissing were the primary ways for us to get off.
Mani reciprocated well during our sex, but she was still shy about asking for it. She expected me to take the initiative. On the nights when she herself wanted it, she handed me a towel and soap before our dinner. It soon became an indicator that she was ready and wanted me to make the move that night. Oral sex was something that she resisted for almost a year, but somewhere at the end of the first year, she allowed me to taste her pussy. She relished it a lot more and, after that, allowed me to lick her, but only when she was clean. Although she stroked me, she never took my penis in her mouth until then.
She was a reserved person and talked little, unlike other women. She would raise her voice only once after she gets upset, but after that, she would simmer inside and not throw a tantrum. It took a few months for me to understand and I came around to expecting her likes and dislikes. She never complained; taking everything gracefully in stride. Other men's interests in her came up, but she always mentioned it in passing. She didn't expect me to intervene.
Mani was married for a little over 2 years before her ex-husband passed away and she had to return to her parents, who didn't want to do anything with her or her child. She did odd jobs and managed her son for the next several years until she married me. It was a nightmare with no future as her ex-husband, whom she married only because he raped her several times and made her pregnant, was unstable and had no steady job. They lived with his father and uncle. She did all the housework, apart from taking on a minor job on her own to support the family.
Mani avoided talking about her past sex life since she didn't remember those days fondly, but I was curious about it and would bring back the topic on some pretext or another. After about 9 months, she opened up and shared that her husband's father and uncle, throughout her stay, sexually exploited her. There was no anger, frustration, shame, or remorse on her face. She seemed calm, and I wondered if I really understood her. As the weeks passed, I learned more about her sordid past. Her father-in-law consummated their marriage on the fifth night after their wedding. Her husband's uncle followed soon after that. That night, they each took another turn with her. All the while, her drunkard husband slept right next to her. It became the norm after that, as these men treated her as their wife and demanded sex from her. Her husband got a whiff, but he said nothing. He was callous to her and had no interest in the marriage. He drank to forget about life's responsibilities. He had sex with her, but mostly it was the two elderly people in the house who enjoyed her youthful body.
There was a deaf silence after she shared that with me. My heart was beating wildly, and my penis was stiff. She knew I was sexually excited after hearing about it, but said nothing, and we had a rather long session that night. She opened up and shed some of her inhibitions, and allowed me to lick her vagina soon after that.
