This is the story of my beautiful wife – who is no less than a queen to me – and my life with her . We hail from an upper middle class family and have lived for most of our lives in the surrounding areas of Mumbai but not exactly in the city. It has helped us stay connected with the fast moving things in life but at the same time offered us solitude and privacy of the distance from the hustle bustle of a city life. We own a small business that has been doing reasonably well for past several decades, which now I have been managing for the past two decades.
Nishma, my wife is about forty-seven years old. My name is Adwait and I am five years elder to Nishma. We belong to a traditional family – more specifically we belong to the Kokanastha caste, which is named after the coastal region of Konkan in Maharashtra, a state of India. It’s a fairly conservative community, in which inter caste marriages are still frowned upon but relationships between castes are tolerated. Where we come from, it is still considered to be a social stigma and it was particularly so when we got married about 25 years ago. We recently celebrated our twenty-fifth marriage anniversary.
Women from this caste are incredibly beautiful. They are gifted with much fairer complexion and most actually have green or blue eyes. These characteristics make them look more caucasian than Indians. However, most have dark-brown or brown hair, which gives away their nationality. It is rumored often that the aboriginals mated with Portuguese and French people who arrived on the Konkan coast of India about five centuries back. There is no historical account of such things but it is not unreasonable to assume that some form of mixing must have happened due to which these traits were inherited or became more pronounced.
Nishma was no exception in this regard. Although she didn’t carry that specific genetic mutation, she was quintessential Indian beauty. Her big, dark eyes left a lasting impression on everyone she met. Her soft, blemishless skin with a sharp nose and beautiful features attracted men. Her pouty, pinkish red lips never failed to elicit a sexual groan from them. Her jet black, thick hair was so silky that even women envied her fortune. She never failed to capture interest of the people around her. Her complexion was perhaps a shade or two darker than the normal pale complexion that we believed to be the gold standard in our community. Yet, this only accentuated her beauty. It was quite common for my friends to be mesmerized by her beauty and they unabashedly congratulated me on my good fortune.
On the physical front, Nishma stood about 5′ 7″, a little above average for our times. Although, she isn’t very tall by current Indian standards, she was deemed to be so in our times. Due to her shapely, slender body, she was the favorite amongst the men, much to the dismay of the women, who rather chose to ignore her for her apparently darker complexion.
I wasn’t a perfect match for her in that regard as well; I was couple of inches shorter than her. It never bothered her but my insecurity always kept nagging at me. Nishma’s utterly feminine, slender body always captured the interest of men around her. Although, physically her body was quite slender, her breasts and butt were well developed for her age and built; no wonder the men folks were always captivated by her beauty. Over the years she had gone from being too frail to a little plump but has eventually settled into the perfect mold for past decade or so. She easily fits the MILF description today. She continues to attract attention of men even at this age; incidentally even the young lads are mesmerized by her beauty. Her bust size has increased over the years and so as her butt. She breastfed all our kids and hence her breasts have lost some elasticity but a supporting brassiere allows her to flaunt them. Her tummy only shows the scars of bearing many children but it doesn’t have an ounce of extra fat. She can fit into most of her clothes she wore during her twenties but most would struggle to contain her breasts and her butt.
On the dressing front, Nishma is conservatively dressed most of the time. She hasn’t worn pants for more than a decade. Nowadays she restricts herself to a Salwar-Kameez or a simple Saree. Both of them look splendid on her and usually highlight her beautiful features. She ties her hair in a braid most of the time. With Sarees, she chooses to tie her hair behind her head as most Indian women do.
Our’s was a traditionally arranged marriage. We both came from reasonably affluent families and it was commonly held belief to keep status on equal footing in such relationships. I was obviously smitten by her beauty. Little did I realize that she was also a sweet girl with a soft voice. Nishma didn’t take too long to make up her mind. A little bit of digging was in order. We learned that Nishma was little modern for our taste and had several friends who happened to be boys. I too had friends who were girls, so it didn’t strike odd but when the investigator chose to speak to me personally, I learned not everything was normal. I chose to hide it from my parents and made sure that he didn’t divulge the details to anyone else. Not wanting to nip this relationship in the bud, I took the initiative and broached up the subject with her. She looked relieved. We were alone but didn’t have adequate privacy and she hushed me and offered to talk about it at a more appropriate time.
We met alone a few days later without the knowledge of our parents.
“Thanks for not hesitating,” she started.
“It wasn’t my intention to hide it – but you know how parent’s are?”
“Your investigations may not have revealed many sinister things but let me be honest with you.”
“I am not a virgin anymore,” she added gathering some courage.
It wasn’t common those days for a woman to lose her virginity before marriage. And certainly, it wasn’t common for someone to confess in front of their prospective husband.
“You mean to say you were in love?”
I asked, “what happened?”
“Not quite,” she responded.
“I didn’t have any emotional attachment – it just happened.”
“Did someone take advantage of you?” I asked.
“Sort of,” she responded, “but it wouldn’t be right to blame them.”
“You see,” she said, tears welling in her eyes, “I am not comfortable talking about it.”
“Nishma,” I tried consoling her, “my apologies – my intention was only to learn the circumstances.”
“We often commit mistakes at an young age without realizing the far reaching consequences,” she added, remorsing over her past, but more importantly owning up her mistakes rather than simply blaming an outside influence.
“It’s all history now, I suppose,” I added tentatively. She nodded, trying to contain her tears.
“I like you,” she said holding my hand, “but I would understand if this were to change your mind.”
I thought for a few moments before saying, “it is certainly an unpleasant surprise – but I don’t want to take a hasty decision.”
“There’s is more,” she continued, trying to contain her emotions, “while I had no emotional attachment – there was plenty of sex.”
I nervously nodded, encouraging her to continue.
“There were five men with whom I have been intimate,” she added.
“Three were unmarried and perhaps a little elder to me. The other two were were married men in their thirties.”
“It was all over a period of four years – and it all ended about a year back.”
Nishma was twenty-two when we met. So, technically her relationships started when she was 17. The relationships may have started somewhere around her seventeenth birthday; not too early for her to be an immature person, I thought.
“It was sexual only with three of them,” she continued.
“The other two it was simply a little petting,” she clarified.
“You weren’t dating any of them were you?”
“No,” she said shaking her head, “It was purely based on sex.”
“The two were simply good friends and it just happened – may be couple of times each but nothing serious.”
“With the other three?”
“The last affair started about two years ago and it ended a year ago,” she answered.
“The other two were before this?”
“Yes. They began earlier,” she answered.
“When did those end?”
“About a year ago,” she replied.
That was surprising.
“You had three affairs at the same time?” I blurted. She remained silent; still trying to contain her sobbing. It was apparent that she wasn’t happy about it but she didn’t wanted to hide it either. As much as I liked her, her honest confession was a bitter pill for me to swallow. In retrospect, it was just my pride that wouldn’t allow to accept a defiled woman. However, I knew how aroused I was after I heard her confession. She was having an affair with three men for a period of three years and other two that were due to momentary lapses during this period.
“The first two – they were married. Did they have children?” I asked.
She tried to steady her voice before answering, “Yes, they both had daughters, one of them was a few years younger to me and another was about ten or so at the time it started.”
We went over some more details but essentially. The person who took her virginity was almost twenty years elder to her and the second was only a few years younger to him. Her second affair started soon after – within couple of months of the first one. She also admitted that it was fairly active during the early stages – about once a week with each lover but the frequency dropped progressively to as little as once a month.
Without a doubt by the time I headed back from my meeting with her, I already knew that our relationship had reached a dead end. I was surely aroused as hell just realizing the promiscuous lifestyle she lead for almost four years. It seemed that she was not only beautiful but also incredibly hot. My mind couldn’t come to terms with simply saying no to her. Rational person as I was, I understood the foremost concern I had was the stigma it carried and what it would mean to be a husband of such a woman. If my parents were to learn it they would have summarily rejected the proposal. I had already met several girls but none appealed to me as much as she did. And even after her confession, I couldn’t convince myself to forget about her.
We let things settle. After about 2 or 3 weeks later, our parents surprised both of us by announcing our impromptu engagement. Nishma knew about it a week earlier and apparently tried to reach me but she couldn’t. So, there I was with a ring in my hand in front of her and our entire family. Our parents knew each other for several years and hence they didn’t feel any need to delay it further. Nishma gave me a nervous smile as I slid the ring on her finger. She did the same equally nervously.
After the festivities were done, when we had a moment of solitude.
Nishma said, “I tried to contact you to warn about this but you weren’t traceable.”
“Sorry, I was out for a few days,” I responded.
“Don’t worry,” she responded.
“I will figure out something to break it later,” she said looking into my eyes, and after a brief pause added, “i.e. if you want it.”
“Nishma thank you for your kind consideration,” I responded with a little hint of irritation.
“Really. I mean it,” she assured.
We tried to ignore each other for the rest of the evening. I definitely was aroused around her as she was unbelievably gorgeous and I just couldn’t convince myself that she was capable of the things she shared with me.
Our marriage was slated three months after our engagement. I thought that provided ample time for us to figure out a way to end it. Although, we weren’t too keen to meet each other, our families made it a point to arrange dates for us on a regular basis. Strangely, instead of talking about our impending doom, we just spent time with each other. It didn’t take long for me to realize that she was indeed a nice person and someone with whom I wouldn’t have trouble leading my life. Now, the only question was whether I was willing to swallow my pride. She too liked me very much and it just didn’t seem worth looking into her past.
On the other hand, the dark-side of me had gravitated towards her much before. She was gorgeous and my sexual attraction to her was understandable but I knew that it had intensified into an obsession; primarily because of her promiscuous past.
Eust like most privileged kids, I too had access to means of sexual gratification pretty early on. However, in my righteous mind, having sex with a prostitute just didn’t gel. I would always envisage of situations where a woman – usually it would be a married woman – who would transgress to mate with another man. Quite often the man would be me and usually the woman would be an acquaintance. Fortunately my privileged status allowed me access to local smut that was not easily available to kids of my age. Since the very beginning, only the stories of such illicit copulation excited me. In my fantasies it would always be me fornicating with the wife of imbecile husband behind his back. This appeased my appetite for a little while but then my yearning for excitement increased. Around that time I noticed that there were stories where the husband was aware of his wife’s affair and even encouraged her subtly. He would sometimes secretly watch his wife mate with the other man or even try to set up his wife for such possibilities. Those stories stuck in my mind and I found myself gravitating to the role of the husband rather than the wife’s lover. Unfortunately, those stories were few and far in the local smut available. Soon, I found myself fixated on such stories and would incessantly look for stories with such themes. The ones that fit that description made it into my treasure trove.
Nishma’s own admission of her past had perhaps fuelled my imagination and strangely I envisioned her mating with her past lovers even after she was married to me. It wasn’t as if I preferred her to have sex with others only but my principal fantasies revolved around that theme. The fact that she was physically so attractive made the fantasy compelling.
Let me share a few things about her demeanor that perhaps encouraged my views. We grew up during conservative times and much before the advent of television and internet. It was uncommon for women of our times to wear jeans and trousers and yet Nishma wore them on a regular basis. Although, she wasn’t skimpily dressed ever; she was provocatively dressed most of the time. It was a mixture of her attire – that was uncommon for women – and her voluptuous body that tantalizingly was exposed to men in the tight fitting clothing. Even more important was her high heels that she wore most of the time. She towered over most men of our times even without those and that naturally gave her sense of superiority over them. Yet, she was a sweet person and didn’t mind interacting or helping men, often disregarding their lecherous glances.
Our marriage was pushed out by another two months due to various reasons and so that offered us even more time to understand each other. By now, Nishma had realized that I wasn’t planning on ending our relationship. Things started to change after that and quite unexpectedly we got physical for the first time in a very crowded place.
We were in a long queue to offer our prayers in a prominent temple. The queues were quite long and often one would wait for hours at stretch in the wee hours to get a glimpse of the statue. We had been standing in the queue for several hours and reached much inside the temple where it was dark and dimly lit by meagerly powered incandescent bulbs. We were getting worked up as our bodies were rubbing against each other. We stopped pretending that it wasn’t bothering us. The hot humid weather was exhausting and the tightly enclosed narrow lanes didn’t make it any better. On that day she was wearing a dark colored, cotton, sleeveless Salwar Khameez that adorned her fair complexion. Usually, she chose to wear very tight dresses but this one was a little on the loose side – it was more on the pathani style than the traditional style.
We both accepted the state of affairs to be normal and Nishma let me embrace her from behind. It was the first time she let me hold her by her waist. I couldn’t feel her naked waist but that didn’t stop me from having a stiff erection. To my dismay, although she gave me ample opportunity to wedge my bulge into her crack from behind, I could barely reach her height. Even without her heels, she was quite taller than me, enough to make it difficult to take her from behind without her cooperation. After realizing that it may not be as effective, she guided my hand to her breast. My hands shivered as I try to get hold of her breast. She was much better equipped and despite my best effort, I could hardly cover her breast with my hand. Nishma tolerated my imbecile moves and let me explore her body. Our amours foreplay went on for quite a while and then we entered a section that was quite dark. As my pelvis lurched forward in an attempt to impale her, she balanced herself and subtly buckled her knees to provide a much better angle. It was a humiliating moment for me. I realized how much shorter I was; although I believed she was taller by an inch or so until then, I soon learned that I was at least three inches shorter, if not more.
The warmth of her body felt incredible; my pelvis perfectly lined up against her crack and that’s when I realized that her hips were much wider than mine. It wasn’t as if she was fat and I could recollect vividly how well proportioned she looked in all kinds of attire. I later learned that it was her height and large frame that made things look normal but clearly she was a sizeable woman than what I imagined her to be. She leaned back against me and offered her lips to kiss. Her breath was a little stale but understandable given the circumstances. She was a terrific kisser and it was apparent that she was way more experienced. We weren’t afraid of getting caught in the dark alley that we had entered. However, I noticed some movement behind me and it seemed there was man, perhaps in his thirties as I recalled from seeing him earlier, who was intently watching both of us. I tried to alert Nishma but she had other ideas as her hands crept to my bulge. She fondled it delicately as her tongue danced in tune with mine. Between this amorous foreplay, I noticed that the stranger took a bold step by moving his hand to her left breast. I tried to push it away but he was persistent. Realizing this, Nishma broke the kiss. It took a few moments for her to realize that the hand that was fondling her boobs was not mine.
She turned around and started kissing me. Once again I realized how tall she was as she practically took me into her arms and planted her lips on mine. Her kiss was passionate and intense and now the stranger moved his hand to her butt. Despite my valiant attempts his hand had crept into her butttline. As I struggled to fight his invasion, Nishma broke the kiss and fell into my arms. It just seemed as she was enjoying and perhaps she was but when she whispered into my ears.
“Don’t make a scene,” she whispered and pushed my hand away from his.
“If we just let him play, he won’t let anyone know that he caught us in the act.”
“Are you crazy?” I seethed.
“He is taking advantage of you right in front of him.”