My Loving Wife Malti

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.

Each mandal, or group, would decorate and come up with interesting themes to depict during the festival. After all of our outings, we were all exhausted that evening, and our mother fell asleep as soon as she climbed into bed. However, I was too worked up to fully enjoy it, and I ejaculated only after mounting for 2 minutes. She was disappointed, but she didn’t show it, and instead asked me to perform oral sex on her so she could climax as well. She finally climaxed after about 10 minutes, and we returned to our positions and spoke.

We would talk for hours, even when we were exhausted, and we would constantly fondle each other. As we hugged each other after our unsuccessful attempt at consummating our marriage, she said, “What’s the matter with you? I expected you to pounce on me as soon as we married, but even after three weeks, you disappoint me with such a poor performance.”

Malti was making fun of me. I had no idea she had a good sense of humor until recently. I assumed she was a shy and reserved young lady, but she was far more advanced in almost every way, much to my surprise.

“Why do you say that?”

“I remember how you looked at me. There was always an element of lust,” she smiled.

“Anyone who looks at you can’t help but be captivated.”

“Of course even Kishore bhai can’t resist me,” she explained.

“What?”

“Haven’t you noticed how he looks at me?”

“I thought he’d mount me even before you,” she added.

I gave her an odd look. Although I had introduced the term “mount” in the previous two weeks during our long chats, I didn’t expect her to talk with such freedom, especially when it involved another man. I was relieved that she had already noticed his sexual interest in her and didn’t seem to find it offensive.

“Come on, Sanjay, you don’t think of me as a conventional woman?” she continued. If I was, I would not have married you. I love you, but that doesn’t mean we can’t talk freely.”

“No, Malti, of course not; it’s just that I didn’t expect it,” I pleaded.

“Does he annoy you?”

“Not at all,” she replied, “he actually makes me happy; I believe there is something in me that can move a man his age.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?” A man staring at your lovely wife?”

Malti was clearly worked up, which didn’t surprise me given that we had already begun discussing sexual matters.

“You know how sometimes we overindulge and can’t finish things, and I step out and run into him? It almost feels as if he senses my weakness and is about to mount me.”

“There are elders to respect, and then there are others who are simply older people,” she clarified as I continued to observe her.

“He’s rumored to be a dog with no teeth; he can only bark and not bite,” I retorted. Her direct approach frightened me, and I didn’t want her to think of me as a wimp. But I still wanted her to explore possibilities with him, and I hoped that the rumor would make her more relaxed.

“But aren’t you upset?”

“We live in a chawl, where there is no privacy. Men are always drawn to attractive women. People here are too busy making a living to think about morality.”

“If it bothers you, I will speak with him,” I explained.

“No, Sanjay, of course not; all men stare at me.” It’s nothing out of the ordinary for me.”

“You are the sexiest and most beautiful woman I know. Even Vishwamitra will succumb to your charms; he is, after all, an ordinary man.”

“Shut up, you charlatan. He is not Vishwamitra, and neither am I Menaka. And I was referring to my attraction, not his,” she explained.

“Your sexual attraction to other men is not immoral,” I said quietly. She turned off the light and reached out to kiss me. Her kiss was passionate; her hand reached into my underwear and stroked my semi-rigid dick.

“Have you ever fantasized about him with me?” she asked in hushed tones. My pelvis humped involuntarily. Malti correctly read it and said, “I have to.”

As she began stroking furiously, my penis hardened. She climbed on top of me and rode me after fumbling for a condom and sheathing my penis. It was our first time, and I liked how Malti took the initiative. This time, we had a longer session, which Malti appreciated.

“You know, you have a dirty mind,” she said as she hugged and slept in my arms.

There was a lot going on in my head right now. Malti had not only noticed Kishore bhai’s interest in her, but she appeared to be intrigued by him as well. She wasn’t opposed to having sex with him either. I was convinced that he would eventually score with her; it was only a matter of time. Furthermore, I sincerely desired that this occur. I knew that despite his lack of physical attractiveness, he could sexually satisfy her. Having observed her own liberal stance on sex, I predicted that this would occur much sooner than I had anticipated.

Unlike the husbands who had protected their wives from him, I decided to do the exact opposite. He had helped us our entire lives, and this was one way for us to repay him. Of course, I wanted Malti to make the decision so that I wouldn’t be obstructing or coercing her in any way. I gave him plenty of chances to seduce her; even today, as we walked from one mandal to the next, he tagged along, and I made sure he got some time with her. Maybe her bold reaction today was just a result of something that happened.

These thoughts kept cutting in and out of my mind, keeping me awake all night. I began fondling her body early in the morning, waking her up. To see if she was willing to indulge me one more time that night. I fondled her breasts and kneaded her ass as she tossed aimlessly. I unbuttoned her blouse and grabbed her breasts. She moaned almost immediately. “Haven’t you had enough for the night?” she asked as I nuzzled into her neck and kissed her.

“Malti, it’s me, Kishore bhai,” I said as my hand crept into her pantyhose. As my finger made its way into her soaking wet pussy, she let out a guttural moan. It was dripping profusely now that she knew it was him and not me. She kissed me, ignoring our morning breaths, and said, “Don’t make a noise, you’ll wake my husband and mother-in-law.”

“Put your fat penis in me,” she said as she pressed my fingers into her pussy. I felt the power of her vaginal muscles against my fingers as she pushed her vagina against me. It was so intense that if it had been my penis, I would have ejaculated right away. It only took a few minutes for her to reach a climax.

She seemed quiet and distant in the morning, so I hugged her and whispered into her ear, “I love you.”

As she descended the stairs to our floor that day, she returned my loving gaze. Her school didn’t start until 7:30 a.m., so she was the first one out the door.

I arrived at work at my usual time, but my thoughts were still on Malti and her admissions. She was stunning; none of the Gujarati ladies I knew could compete with her beauty. As if that weren’t enough, she was well-educated and refined. I wondered if she was a cold woman because she hadn’t pushed me for sex as much in the previous two weeks as she did last night. It was clear that her libido was strong, and she was also not a traditional woman. My fantasy appeared to be a reality at this point.

That evening, we both wanted to go to bed, but my mother worked until late at night to finish a few blouses that were due the next day. Malti slept in a regular tight Salwar that allowed no access to her breasts due to our haste. When I complained, she reprimanded me, saying, “you need every day now?”

“Wasn’t yesterday enough? “My breasts are bruised,” she said, slapping my buttocks.

“How can you blame me? “Wasn’t it Kishore bhai the other day?”

She pushed me away and pretended to be upset. I leaned in for a kiss on her cheeks.

“He’s acting like a sex-crazed bull,” she said.

“He may have detected a virginal young cow that has yet to be properly bred.”

She returned her hand to my bulge and squeezed it.

“I didn’t expect you to have such a filthy mind,” she said, turning to face me.

“Did you fantasize about him taking me?”

I gave a nod. I was embarrassed about this fantasy, but the way she reacted or even spoke about it made me realize it wasn’t so strange after all.

“Has he taken other wives in our building?” she inquired, anticipating my response. “You know…” she said, noticing my interest.

She mentioned one of the married women he had boned a few years ago; the one he could have scored with right after marriage but couldn’t because she lived in a very safe environment.

“How did you find out?”

“Is that correct?”

“You’ve only been here three weeks and you’ve already read it? “Did he say anything to you?”

“Stop talking, Sanjay. Why would he say that to me?”

“Is there any other woman?” She inquired, then exclaimed, “Let me guess that.”

Then, much to my surprise, she guessed the second woman. Both of these women were in their thirties and reasonably attractive. One of them had been married for ten years, while the other had been married for thirteen years. Their business had been going on for at least 5-6 years. So when he mounted them, their ages were close to Malti’s. This resemblance had to have piqued her interest as well.

I told her about his background and what I had learned over the years.

“So I’m his new muse then,” she explained.

“I don’t think he’s had much success with a beautiful woman like you,” I said.

“How could he have done it? He’s such a filthy, disgusting pig,” she retorted.

“Haven’t you seen how ugly he is? Not to mention his obesity and age,” she added.

“Didn’t you want him to put his fat penis inside you the day before?”

“That’s just a fantasy,” she retorted, “and how does that matter?” Perhaps he deserves to mate with attractive women.”

“How come you get so worked up if you don’t like him?”

“It’s forbidden. “Don’t you think someone who has slept with 35 women is worth his salt?”

I kissed her neck and fondled her breasts. She was exhaling heavily, and it appeared that we were about to progress to the next stage of our fantasy.

“He is well worth it,” I said quietly. My hand reached for her crotch, which appeared to be soaked in her juices. I untied the knot and pushed my hand inside; she shuddered as my hand reached her pussy. She was drenched, and my hand splashed as it entered her overly lubricated vagina. I kissed her and began finger fucking her.

“Don’t you think so?” I inquired.

Malti was drowsy as she continued to concentrate on the pleasurable sensations emanating from her vagina rather than my kissing or talking. It was obvious that it was working. I kept doing it the same way for a while, and she quickly climaxed from my finger fucking.

“Will you let him put his tongue in your mouth or yours in his?” I asked as I put on my condom and prepared to mount her.

She moaned and asked, “Is there any other way to kiss?” as I settled into position and sank my penis inside.

“Go slowly; I want you to stay inside for as long as possible.”

She kissed me slowly as I began my slow fucking.

“Would you like him to mount you, Malti?”

She didn’t respond, but she was still motionless as I slowly pumped her. I urged her, and after a few moments, she said, “In my fantasies, he deserves to mate with your young, beautiful, virgin wife.”

After a minute or so, as I was approaching my orgasm, she began to breathe heavily as well.

“Would you put his stinky penis in your mouth?”

“Yes,” she mumbled as she neared her peak.

“He’s not going to use condoms and cum in your womb!”

“I want him to breed me,” she screamed, squeezing my penis. It only took a few moments for me to start gushing with my sperm in the condom.

We crawled into our bed. We were both very pleased with our episode; despite my initial reservations, I was able to please her and, more importantly, prolong the sexual intercourse, which I wasn’t sure about. Nonetheless, Malti’s pelvic muscles were strong, and my ejaculation was accelerated once she employed

them.

“I had no idea you could have such twisted thoughts,” I told her. “Neither did I expect you to have such thoughts about your wife,” she said with a smile.

“We may be unusual, but we are not alone in having such fantasies,” she added.

“It can’t be that all 35 of his affairs were always behind the husband’s back, can it?”

“In fact,” I responded quickly, “he specifically mentioned some husbands who were happy with this arrangement.”

“So, in your fantasy, he takes me like he did the other wives? Maybe in 3-5 years?”

I pondered whether I wanted to be completely honest with her, but we’d come too far to hide anything, so I mumbled, “much earlier than that.”

“Really? “How soon?”

I didn’t say anything. She paused for a moment before asking, “Like right now?” 3 weeks until our wedding?”

When I didn’t respond, she asked, “On our wedding night?”

“I had exactly the same fantasy,” she exclaimed as she turned on her side to face me. Strange, isn’t it?”

“He had been pursuing me even before our marriage, but he seemed more persistent once it became clear that we would marry.”

“I didn’t like him, but the fantasy was so erotic that I couldn’t get it out of my head.”

“You are stunning. What did you see in him?”

“Nothing. Despite the obvious differences, he pursued me as if he deserved me,” she explained.

“Do you want to pursue this kind of relationship with him, Malti?”

“Are you serious?”

“Why wait if this has to happen in 5-6 years anyway?”

“Seriously?”

“It’s strange, but even before I met you, I fantasized about him taking my wife the way he took other men’s wives. It became even stronger and more persistent with your arrival. If this was such a vivid fantasy for you, we can discuss it,” I said.

Malti was aroused and seemed eager to consider, if not accept, the proposal, but she hesitated as any woman would. It was now my turn to encourage her and provide the necessary support for her to take the next step.

“Look,” I continued, “you, too, had a fantasy about him taking your virginity, didn’t you?”

She nodded nervously.

“Technically, you are no longer a virgin, but practically, you are,” I explained, “after all, we have only had intercourse three times so far.” We can still indulge in our fantasies.”

Malti froze just hearing my proposal. After a while, she inquired, “Don’t you love me?”

“I adore you, which is why I am willing to consider such a proposal. You are far more deserving than I am. So, at the very least, I can ensure that you get what you deserve sexually. He will undoubtedly satisfy you in bed.”

“Only if you feel strongly about it as well,” I clarified.

“Wouldn’t it have an impact on our marriage?”

“We fantasized about these things because we understand that sex is not the same as love. I don’t see how this relationship could affect our marriage as long as it doesn’t change our love for each other.”

“What if someone discovers it?”

“If we take care, no one will find out; all they can do is speculate, which they are free to do anyway.”

“It’s unusual for both husband and wife to have such a fantasy and then have the opportunity to live it out,” I added.

She leaned in close and kissed my lips. She snatched my semi-flaccid penis in her hand and asked, “Are you sure about this?” It doesn’t seem right to give away what is rightfully yours.”

“Do you think it’s erotic enough for you to live it?” I inquired.

“I do,” she replied, “but it’s complicated; I’m not sure how it would work even if we wanted it.”

“Exactly as you expect,” I replied, “you have two husbands instead of one, and how you care for them so that both relationships thrive is up to you.”

“Let’s sleep on it,” she said, “we shouldn’t make any hasty decisions.”

“I had always felt that he would enjoy my charms sooner or later, and I see the same confidence in his eyes as well,” she continued, “perhaps you are correct that we have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that we are both eager to consider.”

“If I truly desired a conventional life, I would have married according to my parents’ wishes,” she continued, “so this is something worth considering, but fantasy and reality are two entirely different things.” There are consequences in real life, many of which are irreversible.”

I whispered to her the next morning, after our morning activities at home, when we had a quiet moment.

“We are still exploring the possibility, right?” She blushed and nodded and returned back to her work.

“You said he could have scored with you very likely? How soon would it have been?”

She elbowed me, saying, “you only think about those things?”

When I persisted, she replied, “Since you approve, maybe by our first anniversary.”

“What if I didn’t approve?”

“Maybe by our third anniversary then,” she said.

She went to take a bath after serving breakfast to us. On Sundays, my mother would generally go to her temple activities, which gave us the opportunity to enjoy our privacy, but we were always afraid of being interrupted, so we never did anything more than kiss and fondle. My mother was in a hurry because of the Ganesh celebration, so she departed after finishing her meal. I shut the door and waited for my lovely wife to emerge from the bathroom.

After her bath, I saw my lovely wife perform her morning pooja, worshiping God and receiving blessings. When she saw I was staring at her, she gave me her naughty smile. “Aren’t you underestimating him?” I asked her after she finished.

“Three years?”

“Are you still stuck there?”

“Didn’t you take this breakfast for him?” she asked.

“I thought you wanted to do that,” I said quietly.

“Now I have to reheat it,” she exhaled as she lit the gas stove and began reheating the breakfast and tea.

As I approached her and kissed her on the neck, she said, “Of course I don’t underestimate him.” Since you approve, it would take less than three months, and even if you did not approve, it would happen by our first anniversary.”

“Honestly,” she said, looking at me, “if we had privacy, it would have taken even less time.”

Malti quickly took the tray containing his breakfast, while I grabbed a towel and went to our bathroom. I changed my mind and quickly followed her to the door. “Thank you so much, Malti,” he said as he opened the door. As I quickly peered in to see, he had let her in and was following her. He almost ran into her as she set the tray on a corner table.

“Good heavens, why do you drink so much?” she exclaimed as she turned around.

“Oh Poha, nice,” he remarked, picking up the plate and taking a spoonful right away.

“At the very least, brush your teeth,” she grumbled, her gaze fixed on the strewn-about house.

“Come on, Malti, you know Lions never brush their teeth, don’t you?” He said this while sipping his tea, smiling.

Malti quickly gathered her belongings and announced, “Kishore bhai, you can have lunch at our place today.”

“You are such a sweetheart. Thank you very much, but today is your only day of solitude, so I won’t bother both of you.”

Malti shook her head and walked away.

“Unless you agree to what I proposed,” he explained. As soon as she stepped inside our house, I rushed inside. She seemed irritated, and I wondered what had gotten her so worked up, because I had noticed him keeping a physical distance from her and not saying anything out of the ordinary.

“What proposal was he referring to?” I inquired as I wore my shirt after taking a bath that day.

“Forget it,” she said, “he’s going insane.”

She had no idea I was listening in on her; she assumed I had simply overheard him as I stepped into the bathroom.

I didn’t want to push myself any further, so I sipped my tea and read the newspaper. Sunday afternoons were usually a good time for us to spoil each other. My mother returned that day within a few hours because she wasn’t feeling well. That thwarted our plan, so we went for a walk on the beach. We felt liberated as we walked along the Marine Drive coast holding hands and talking normally without fear of being overheard.

During our late-afternoon stroll, Malti opened up and shared how her own fantasies began to form. Her visits to my house increased as we became more serious about our relationship, which brought him in contact with him a lot more. She was initially repulsed, even scorned, by his overt, desperate attempt to woo her. However, her rejections were quickly replaced with curiosity as he continued to approach her as if he were the prince charming. When she noticed other women in our Chawl secretly glancing at him at every opportunity, she knew there was something special about him. Within a year, she had become one of those women who looked at him when he wasn’t looking.

Our marriage was a low-key affair because Malti’s parents were against it. We chose to marry in an unconventional way, first registering our marriage and then having a few ceremonies performed at a temple. Kishore bhai was instrumental in arranging all of this because it was easy for the bride’s family to bribe cops and have the groom arrested back then. We were able to avoid the hassle entirely thanks to his contacts with local politicians. As we posed for pictures at the Court, he made his intentions clear. He fondled her naked back and touched her naked back while striking a pose for those photos. No one noticed, but Malti was well aware that his intentions were questionable. He took advantage of the opportunity to touch her naked waist several times on the way back in the bus.

He was far more aggressive with her, while I was too concerned about being caught in the act with my mother, even though we were legally permitted to have such sex. Because of her timidity, she believed it would be far easier for him to score with her than with me. This fueled her desire for him even more.

She had never considered another man before that, and even after our marriage, she only fantasized about him.

As we dug deeper into the details, it became clear that she didn’t like him. He was dark, ugly, old, overweight, and smelly, but she could easily see him taking her on our wedding night. The prospect of exploring this relationship and allowing him to take her virginity appealed to her. We even discussed where they could find opportunities to mate, as it was difficult for us to find solitude with only one room and my mother constantly staying at home. Kishore bhai appears to have already floated the idea of us using his front room at night, which opened up the possibility of finding a time when they could be together.

“Let’s discuss more tonight,” she said as we ascended the stairs of our building.

The usual evening TV noise was present. Most programs aired only on weekends back then, and everyone stayed glued to the television on Sunday evenings. We still didn’t have a television in our house, though Kishore bhai did. If he didn’t mind, we would frequently watch TV at his house. We had never been big fans of television and had decided against it. My mother was preoccupied with her chanting in the evenings, so she wasn’t keen on it. It made sense to go to Kishore bhai’s place and watch it for a pleasant diversion.

On the way, one of our elderly neighbors greeted us; Malti quickly accepted his blessings by touching his feet.

“Is he looking after you?” he inquired, his voice concerned. Malti gave a nod.

“Come to me if he bothers you,” he said. I’m going to give him a good thrashing.”

He laughed and walked away. “I thought he’d say visit Kishore bhai, if he bothers you,” I said into her ear as we walked across the floor to our house.

Malti chastised me for mentioning him and elbowed me; one of the elderly ladies saw it and chuckled, “Give it to him; keep a tight leash on him.”

Malti smiled and walked over to our house after greeting her. My mother had cooked dinner for us and said, “Food is ready, let’s eat together.”

I silently admired my lovely wife as she worked in the kitchen. I used to think to myself, “She’s such a beautiful woman.” Her skin complexion was so fair and clean that I had the impression that if I touched her, I would leave marks on her body. It was true.

She only wore conservative dresses that kept her perfect body covered. One could only imagine how good her figure looked in the loose-fitting Salwar-Kameez she wore. We weren’t wealthy, so she only wore a small “Mangalsutra” and held a delicate golden bangle in her hand. She was simply stunning! In the sweltering heat of Mumbai, all of our bodies had their natural odor, unless we could afford deodorant or perfume. Malti had a strong aversion to such unnatural smells, and we both avoided them; instead, she bathed twice a day. Malti knew I was smitten by her beauty and would frequently sit and stare at her instead of doing anything useful.

“She is your own wife; instead of staring at her all day, why don’t you do something useful?” my mother would sometimes say.

But, for the most part, she let me do what I wanted. Malti, on the other hand, would always have those nervous smiles when she realized I was watching her. As she realized it today, I took a step closer to her and whispered, “You’re dressed so conservatively.” Do you honestly believe he can score with you in three months? There aren’t nearly enough opportunities for married couples like us.”

She smiled and ignored my mindless banter. Sometimes my mother would get annoyed with such constant chatting of ours with each other; not including her in the conversation, but then she would also say that you too are bonding very well.

“Compromise is an integral part of every relationship. It will be strong only as long as you are willing to make necessary compromises and sacrifices,” she would say.

“Look into that cabinet,” Malti said, hinting towards our small medicine cabinet. I opened it and found a fresh bottle of vitamins.

“It’s not for you,” my mother said between her prayers.

“Are you listening to God or to us?” I retaliated. “Yes, it is for me; mother thinks I am skinny,” Malti chuckled.

“You are Malti,” my mother interrupted between her chants, “make sure she takes one every day, has eggs for breakfast every day, and drinks a glass of milk every night.”

“How much do you weigh, Malti?” I inquired.

“Last I checked, I was 42 kgs (93 lbs),” she said.

“How long ago was that?”

“A few months before our wedding,” she replied quickly.

“Have you checked yourself in the mirror, do you really think you are still at 42?” I made fun of her.

Imitating my mother, Malti smacked me with the serving ladle and said, “do something useful.”

“All right, I’m leaving,” I said, then whispered into her ear, “He’s 100 kgs. Do you really believe you can handle his weight?”

“Shut up, Sanjay,” she yelled, then whispered back, “Mother wants us to start our family; that’s why she brought those.”

We both understood what that meant for us in that situation. She asked me to leave as soon as she covered her mouth, embarrassed by her own remark.

My mother delivered her usual sermon, which she always delivered when she was happy. It made her feel better to have Malti as her daughter-in-law. Everything about Malti was perfect in her eyes, and given that her parents were adamant about not having any contact with her, we were both emotionally supporting her and bringing laughter into her life. Malti, according to her, was content, and it showed in her weight gain. We were relieved to see her adjusting to her new life after her family had cut her off from their lives.

As is customary, my mother concluded the conversation with a sermon, saying, “People think a good marriage is based on physical relationship, but the truth is, it solely depends on your longing for each other and the compromises and sacrifices you make for each other.”

We looked at each other and realized we were made for each other.

That night, as I cuddled with her, she whispered to me again, “I love you.”

“Mother is correct,” she said, “I am happy here, and it is reflected in my better health.”

“Physically, you’re getting ready to breed with him,” I said softly as I climbed on top of her. I sat on top of her for a while. “What are you doing?” she enquired. I’m being squashed.”

“I am only 60 kgs, and that bull is at least 100 kgs,” I slid next to her.

“Perhaps you are correct, my body is preparing for it,” she said, lost in thought.

“It was the fifth night when I first fantasized about him,” she explained.

“Even before we had our first intercourse?” I was taken aback by the realization. She had a sly grin on her face.

“Does that make you envious?” She said this while softly kissing my lips.

“A little,” I joked.

“You know,” I said, “even right now he could be thinking about you and, who knows, jerking himself off.”

“He’s a sex-crazed bull, for sure,” she remarked.

“He’s a Water Buffalo bull, and you’re a virginal Indian cow,” I said softly.

“He weighs more than 600 kgs, while you are barely 300 kgs. He’s as black as coal, and you’re as white as snow. He stinks to high heavens, and you smell like heaven,” I added.

“God,” she grumbled, “you are good at working me up with your talk.”

“Perhaps it was the contrast that drew me to him,” she speculated.

“Let’s play a game,” I suggested, encouraging her even more.

“Tell me five things you like about him,” I said.

“Five? “What’s there to like about him?” She pretended.

“Think about it,” I suggested.

She pondered for a few moments as I massaged her body and hugged her tightly. My mother also liked the fact that we talked a lot in bed because she thought it was the best way for us to bond; simply having sex wouldn’t have the same effect. We developed a deep understanding and trust between us because we were naturally in a situation where we couldn’t have sex whenever we wanted.

“The first thing I like about him is his attitude, possibly his arrogance,” she began.

“He comes across as someone who has very high self-esteem. “The second thing I like about him is the way he looks at me,” she explained.

“You know, that’s quite subtle,” she explained, “it’s the way a water buffalo bull would look at a virgin cow coming of age, as if to say, ‘I’ve taken a note of you; be ready, the time is coming.'”

“Quite creative,” I complimented her.

“The third thing is the way he confidently intrudes on my personal space,” she continued. It’s as if he believes it’s his right.”

She came to a halt and waited for me to say something.

“How about the fourth?”

“Come on, Sanjay, there isn’t much to like about him anyway,” she pleaded.

“You can’t get out of it, honey,” I pushed, “you took your time to think about it, so say it now.”

“I’m not sure,” she said after a brief pause, “but I think I like his dark complexion.”

“Do you mean his dark face, which is smeared with marks?” I made fun of her.

“I know he’s unattractive, but I’m drawn to him. I wouldn’t say I like it, but I’m drawn to it.”

“All right, the fifth one.”

“I believe the fifth one is his age. I’m not sure why, but I believe that at this age, we don’t care how the rest of the world perceives us; we’re content with who we are.”

“Thoughtful indeed, Malti,” I remarked.

“Now tell me three things you despise the most about him.”

“Only three things,” I emphasized.

“That list is endless,” she admitted, “so I’m sorry I won’t stop at three.” “Here you go,” she began.

“First and foremost, I despise his dark complexion and overall physique. “He’s a fat, ugly bastard,” she declared.

“But you mentioned you liked his dark complexion,” I retorted.

“No, I said, I was drawn to his dark complexion. I don’t like it.”

“Second, I despise his pungent body odor; even from 3 feet away, I can detect it.”

“Third, I despise his bad breath; he has morning breath, alcohol breath, tea breath, or just plain stale breath.”

“Fourth, I despise his bathing frequency; it appears that he bathes every other day.”

“The dreadful outfit he wears at home. He wears boxer underwear. He keeps his house in a state of disarray, not to mention leaving dirty laundry on furniture. “I could go on,” she said.

“I get it,” I said, chuckling at her outburst.

“What do you want to change about him?” “Can you picture him as your future mate?” I inquired.

She paused for a moment before shaking her head in response to my question.

“Strange, I despise so many aspects of him,” she remarked.

Following a brief pause, I said, “Hey, let’s call him a Gaur in our conversations.”

“What exactly is it?”

“It is the Indian Bison breed name. They resemble Water Buffalos but are much larger, and they are not as stinky and filthy.”

She lay motionless; I let her think about our current situation, but I wanted to make my point clear, so I said, “I think you’re almost there with your decision.” Your reluctance stems from practical considerations.”

“Did you want me to sleep with him because of your financial obligations to him, Sanjay?” In a concerned tone, she inquired.

“Not at all, Malti. “I would never do something like that,” I assured her.

“We do owe him money, but don’t let it bother you. I’ve been repaying it on a regular basis, and we should have finished it in a year.”

“It’s a different story that we can’t repay his generosity with money,” I added.

“Listen,” I said, “if you find him sexually appealing and want to explore it, don’t be afraid of me or other societal considerations.”

“He can’t imagine having such a lovely wife; this is the best he can get from you. I’m not concerned about our marriage. The fact that we are having such discussions only a month after our marriage should allay your concerns.”

“It’s 30 days, Sanjay,” she corrected me.

“We only had intercourse twice; on average, I must have been inside you for about 10 minutes each time?”

“Yes, if you counted the time your finger was inside, it might be 20 minutes each time,” she said.

“However, if you only counted the time your penis was inside – which is what an intercourse is – it was only about 5 minutes each time. So, only 10 minutes in 30 days,” she meticulously articulated it, oblivious to the fact that she was simultaneously dismissing me.

“I noticed how thin your slit is still,” I said.

“You are such an incorrigible jerk,” she almost yelled at me.

“You two, sleep; tomorrow is a working day,” my mother interrupted.

“When he mounts you, he will undoubtedly make you scream and may even cause you to bleed,” I continued.

“Do you want me to sleep with him tomorrow?” she inquired.

“Malti, you don’t seem to get it,” I told her.

“All he needs is a sliver of a chance to score. If he were in my position here, he would mount you every night, ignoring the old lady sleeping across the way at least twice. I’d guess 15 minutes of actual intercourse each time. He’d already clocked over 900 minutes, or 15 hours to my paltry half-hour.”

“How do you know that?” She put me on the spot. “Is he even sexually active at the moment?”

“I found two condoms in his trash bin last week; in fact, I see them frequently on Saturday evenings. It’s most likely to happen on a Friday night or Saturday morning.”

Malti appeared to be calculating something before saying, “Perhaps it’s that old lady who visits him; he said she was his cousin-sister.”

“Did you see two condoms? If I recall correctly, she was there for less than three hours,” she said.

She remarked, “She was so old and out of shape.”

“Do I detect envy or jealousy in your voice?” I inquired of her.

“Shut up. Why should I be envious?”

“You’re upset because he’s been trying to romance you while boning that old lady on a regular basis.”

I recognized her concern this time and then, in my usual soft tone, whispered to her, “Gaur,” I emphasized, the word, the name that we agreed to use only a few moments ago, “is no ordinary bull – he will mount any available cow.” Of course, a young, beautiful, virginal cow is always preferable, but that doesn’t mean he won’t consider other options.”

We were exhausted by that point and went to bed with those thoughts. She woke me up as usual in the morning and chatted with me for a few moments while I sipped my tea.

“Are you certain about everything you said last night?” she inquired once more. I gave a nod.

Soon after, she was on her way to work. We both connected again that evening, but due to our lack of sleep, we were both tired and didn’t have the same enthusiasm to continue our conversation, but I knew that if I disengaged, she might interpret it as a reversal of my earlier decision. Fortunately, my mother was tired as well, and she went to bed early, giving both of us a chance to go for a short walk in our neighborhood before retiring.

As we walked, she clung to my arm. She finally asked, after a long silence and possibly irrelevant things, “You don’t think I’m a bad, immoral woman, right?”

“Of course not, honey,” I assured her, “you are my love, and I want to be with you not only in this life, but for the next seven.”

“Do you have any regrets about our recent discussions?” she asked, smiling.

“I am relieved that we are discussing it as a mature couple,” I said.

“Do you mind if I change my clothes a little?”

“Like, like what?”

“Something Gaur would approve of?”

I was relieved to hear her use that name. She bit her lower lip as the realization dawned on her that she, too, saw him in the same light.

“So you like the name, ah?” I enquired, jokingly. She blushed and nodded, a nervous smile on her face.

“Does the analogy work?”

She laughed nervously, then looked at me and said, “The best analogy! Everything is perfectly captured.”

“Can you get me a few small hygiene items, Sanjay?” she asked after she had settled down.

“A good toothbrush, toothpaste, and a Dettol bottle.”

“Gaur will not use it if you think he will change his ways for you,” I joked.

“Shut up, Sanjay. Stop kidding,” she said as she dragged me along at a faster pace, but only a few steps later, she said, “those are for my use, not his.”

“Do you require any make-up?” I inquired.

“No. “I am beautiful as is,” she countered.

As I previously stated, this occurred in the early 1980s. Life was different back then; while toothpaste was widely available, it was not the primary dental hygiene product. Lower-middle-class people used an Ayurvedic powder that worked reasonably well, but the effects did not last all day. In addition, due to the hot weather and high humidity, one had to mask one’s natural odor. People used deodorants or perfumes, but we didn’t like them.

As we approached our building, I told her, “I’ll get your stuff tomorrow, but I don’t think that will matter.”

“Why?” she inquired right away.

“Because you’re already so beautiful; minor changes in those things won’t make a difference, at least not for Gaur.”

My mother was sleeping when we returned to our room, and we both jumped into bed right away. I was almost dozing off when my wife reached for my penis and gently massaged it, asking, “Are you sure this can take it?”

“Does it have a say?”

“It’s now at your mercy,” I added.

“It’s a difficult dilemma for me,” she explained, “I want to explore, but I am concerned about social ramifications. Because we are so close to Gaur, our neighbors may already be gossiping behind our backs. What would happen if Mother found out?”

“No matter what we do, people will always talk behind our backs,” I said.

“Mother will act as if she hasn’t noticed it,” I explained, “but she may already know more than you think; she, too, was once a target for him, and I’m not sure if he would have failed with her.”

“Besides, as I previously stated, we are both deeply indebted to him, so the least we could do is allow him to charm the house’s daughter-in-law. If he deserves her, he will get her.”

“Do you believe he deserves me? Even if we had no obligation to him?”