Rushing to the hotel, I felt a bit like Schumacher; I zipped and zagged, extending my rather superfluous control over the metallic cage in which I travelled. The car whined with a shrill urgency as I pulled into the drop zone, tires squealing their vulcanized rage, at my sudden break.
Chucking the keys, at the valet, I rushed into the hotel nearly bowling over the old couple in front of me. People gawked as I made through like a typhoon through a hapless forest, bodies parting, in seeming self protection.
I paid them no heed. I was late, very late and I feared my wife's fury, more than the general public's. I made it to the posh a la carte, restaurant with eagle-like ease.
My eyes skirted through the rows upon rows of well groomed diners, searching for that familiar face. My quarry eluded me.
Squinting hard, I dialed my wife's cell-phone.
"Hey, where are you?" asked the tart voice.
I was a little delayed in replying. I had been late, and I expected her to be furious. But I detected none of the rote sarcasm in her voice.
"Hi, Sou, I...ah, got a bit delayed where are you?"
"Fourth seat, third row to the right," said the crisp and impatient voice.
I walked with a little trepidation, wondering what she had in place for me.
I was able to find her after a few tries. And I realized why I had not been able to locate her table. I was searching for a woman alone, she apparently was anything but.
I espied, her dinner partner as I made my way to the table. Something about him was vaguely familiar.
The handsome man, sitting opposite my wife, rose towering above me, and reached out to shake my hand.
"This is Rajesh," my wife said as she introduced us.
The reason for my wife's non-responsiveness as to my being late turned a devastatingly handsome smile upon me. No wonder she had not been angry with me for being late, she must have been positively delighted!
In the manner of most men worldwide, I pretended to recognize him through out dinner.
I broached the subject that night in bed.
"Who was he?"
"What you don't remember him? My wife asked, with that accusing expression women reserve for moments like these -- when men do not remember something that was obviously important to them.
"Should I have?" I retorted.
"Yes..." she said, with certain softness in her voice that put me on my guard.
"Who?" I queried, persistent to the end.
"My...my first," she said, eyes not meeting my own.
Oh...
"Oh that guy..."
"Yes, that guy."
A little background on us would be in order, at this point. We had an arranged marriage, but no, it was not a marriage of convenience; we genuinely liked each other, a quality so rare in arranged marriages, so as to be virtually extinct.
Being conservative my-self, imagine my shock on my first night, when I realized my lovely wife was not a virgin.
My uneasiness heightened, when I was able to enter her, as easily as a knife threw butter.
Why only the previous day I had received enlightening lectures, from more than a few people with my good will at heart:
"Do it slowly..."
"Take your time; everything doesn't have to happen on the first night..."
"A lot of lubrication is required, particularly for a virgin..."
"First times are always difficult, it's as hard for her as it is for you..."
With such advice reverberating endlessly through my head, I marched into the room where awaited my chaste bride (or so I thought at the time).
But the truth really, was quite the opposite.
We went through the rituals of the first night, and to my credit I said nothing. But inside I was very hurt.
That someone had fucked my wife to the point where her pussy, was wide and easily enterable, had my confidence wound up in painful knots.
As I went down on her, the loose labia mocked me further, thereby bespeaking past ravages by a manhood of rather gargantuan proportions.
In the morning I could not resist.
"You're not a virgin are you Sou?" I asked my voice cracking slightly.
She shook her head slowly, her expression sullen. I realized with a start, she had thought me de-brained enough to not realize that.
She told me her tale then, with more detail than was really required. But she was young and inexperienced with this whole 'wedded for life' thing.
Rajesh had been the bull-stud in her college. With a multitude of girlfriends under his belt, and vast wealth to inherit, all the girls swooned for him. Sou had liked him in her shy, innocent way. But her innocence had lit a fire in his belly. He was, as it so happened, fed up with all the women who threw themselves on his cock.
His conquering gaze then settled on the ripe un-plucked flower, that was my future wife. He then serenaded, romanced and accosted his way, till she went out with him. She had dated him but resisted his sexual overtures. She had loved him, and wanted him to take her after she was married.
But Rajesh with his vast sexual experience was persistent.
Her first sexual encounter was when she blew him in his black Bentley.
"His cock was huge, and I mean huge," gestured Sou, her eyes widening as she remembered the incident. "It was big when it was soft, but when it became hard..." she closed her eyes and unconsciously licked her lips.
Needless to say I was very, very disquieted.
But Sou went on and on, seemingly oblivious to her husband's feelings -- "He was not circumcised like you and so he asked me to pull back the skin and I almost jumped when the big pink thing came out."
"Then he asked to lick it, but I couldn't, no way, not at first at least, so he asked me to stroke it with his hands. I kept on massaging it. God it was so big it completely filled my hand and my wrist hurt because of the weight!"
"...when he came for the first time, I thought he was in pain, I didn't understand these things you see....all this creamy stuff exploded with such force on my face and clothes as I stoked and squeezed him. He said it was his personal cream, and asked me to lick it. It actually tasted quite good. I had to take a long shower to..."
She droned on and on, and somewhere I had stopped listening to her ruminations. Here was a woman who after her wedding night, was gushing about how big her lover's manhood was, to her newly married husband.
Tact, as you might have deigned to notice was not my wife's strong point.
"...then he did this thing with his mouth, and I was so wet..."
What was my life going to be like with this woman? Was she really this naïve or was she fucking crazy?
"...a little went in but, not too much and then with a 'plop' all of it went inside. Oh the pain... I was screaming by then..."
Sitting there staring rather sightlessly at the canopied bed, listening to how she had been deflowered by Rajesh, I made a firm decision.
"...when he pulled out, my blood was on his cock, mixed with some other white stuff, I thought it was mine too but I later realized what it was. Rajesh had come inside me. I was too tight for him you see, and he had lost control..."
"Sou stop!" I screamed.
She froze, and I threw her on the bed, strangely her descriptions of her sexual exploits had fired me up and I fucked her senseless.
Fast forward ten years and one kid later, and we had not discussed Rajesh even once.
Until now.
She had kept a few poems he had written her, and one dog-eared photo of the two of them in some park (which she kept carefully hidden from me.)
"Tell me honestly, do you still have feelings for the guy?" I extorted.
"I have some feelings, but not what you're thinking"
"Meaning?"
"You know what I mean."
"What do you mean?" I asked innocently.
"Oh shut up, I have apologized a thousand times, for that night; I was young and innocent and I did not know what to say."
"And..." I persisted.
"You're a very understanding husband who did not take it out on me. There- you happy?"
"Very" I said contented.
But a part of me was not sure; I felt that I was shaky ground here. The cock that my wife probably still adored (in spite of everything she said) was in town.
I decided to do a bit of moon-lighting.
I found out that Rajesh had a habit of visiting his exes and showering them with gifts. He did not seem to want to renew his relationships. There was no specific pattern here. Only one thing stood out- he went out of his way to pursue the exes who were married- chance meetings with said exes in restaurants; hallways, old school reunions, sudden visitations at homes, all of which had married heartbeats quickening.
And unfortunately I came to know through the grapevine that Rajesh had set his sights on Sou.
The next few weeks I began to follow her closely, checking her email, her cell phone messages. I even went to the extent of taking the day off and following her to work.
Rajesh and his legendary manhood loomed like a shadow I could not step out of.
But things calmed down, when Rajesh left town. He was never discussed further.
Until one day, at a party thrown by my boss a Black Bentley pulled up, and a gorgeous woman in a red dress, curves everywhere, got down.
I was ogling at her till I realized it was my wife, escorted by none other than Rajesh.
She made straight for me, her face glowing.
