Arranged hot wife

T he first time I met Mira was the day I married her.

I had lived in England all my life, but that didn’t stop my parents from arranging my
marriage without giving me a say in it.

Oh, I know what you’re thinking—I was an adult, I could do whatever I like. Sure I could
have, if I wanted to walk away from a pile of money. My parents were loaded, but unless I
married who they wanted me to marry, they would have cut me off without a penny.

Mira’s family had money, too. Financially it made sense, but I knew absolutely bugger-all
about my bride. I hadn’t even seen a picture. My parents were stricter than most parents in
India, and they said I was to marry her no matter what she looked like.

So imagine my relief when I laid eyes on a drop-dead gorgeous bride. I mean she was just
beautiful, and the body under her fancy wedding costume made me instantly stiffen.

I was a virgin. A bloke my age in the West who has never had so much as a tug of a girl’s
hand is unthinkable, but I lived in a bubble of traditional India in the middle of London. But
what about university, you ask? Away from my parents’ watchful eyes and free to play? But
that wasn’t me—I never went to university; I never left home. I got my BTEC Level 3
certificate in business, and then my dad trained me to take over the family shop.

They never let me out of their sight.

But they did buy me a nice little flat, and once I stepped into it with Mira it was our home.

I thought my heart was going to explode as we walked to the bedroom, hardly daring to
glance at each other. Her hand in mine felt so small and feminine and soft. Her chest and
hips and arse looked feminine and soft, too, but they were anything but small. Thinking
about how I was about to see them, and actually touch them, I thought I was going to finish
in my trousers before we even got started.

My sister had decorated the room; it was modern and Western, but laced with Indian
textiles and artwork. For the occasion she had set out flowers and LED candles, which
burned with an artificial flame that gave the room a glowing, intimate warmth.
My bride and I got on the bed. I was actually in bed with a female; I could hardly believe it. I
realised that throughout the night we had hardly spoken a word to each other—I was
about to make love to a stranger. It was like a one-night stand, except afterwards we would
be together for the rest of our lives.

We just sat there stealing brief nervous glances at each other in the mercifully dim light,
until finally she spoke, her voice sweet and soft.

‘You first, please.’ Her English was good, and her accent was charming.

As I pulled off my sherwani, I could hardly breath, taking my clothes off in front of a woman
for the first time.

I wasn’t proud of the body I began to uncover. My arms were soft, and I had a fair bit of a
belly. Earlier, I had quickly noticed Mira was taller than me, too. There was no question that
she was the more attractive member of the partnership.

I got down to my briefs, which looked like a tent as the front was pushed out by my
painfully hard cock. I reached my hands to the waistband. I didn’t think it was possible for
my heart to beat any faster or harder, but it did now. With Mira’s big, beautiful eyes locked
on my crotch, I slowly slid down the last piece of clothing.

She just stared at the erect flesh as it pointed out eagerly at her, studying it as if she had
just discovered some new species and was wondering how to classify it.

‘It’s very small, isn’t it?’

‘Uh—I—I guess.’ My cheeks began to feel hot. My wife had just told me my penis was small.
Very small.

She was right, of course. I’ve measured it, and no matter how hard I was I’ve never reached
beyond the nine centimetre mark on a ruler.

She didn’t get undressed yet. Instead she asked, ‘Have you been with a lot of women?’

‘No. None. You’re my first.’

‘I’m glad—I was worried, you living in England . . .’

‘My parents didn’t raise me like a normal British kid. I wasn’t allowed to date. How about
you?’

‘I’ve never been with a man. I’m a little afraid.’

‘Yeah, me too. But it will be fine. We’ll just take it slow.’

She was still staring at my hard-on.

‘Do you touch it?’

That caught me off guard.

‘Uh—yeah, a fair amount.’

‘Does it feel good?’

‘Oh, yes, quite.’

At last she reached to her clothes. She pulled away the lavish sari of red and gold silk, and
my eyes flitted back and forth from her big chest to the bare skin at her waist. She lifted up
her blouse, and the two heavy breasts fell with a jiggle that made me almost come right
then.

Her skin was the colour of coffee with a generous helping of cream. I could not wait to add
my own cream inside her body.

She slid her skirts off of her wide hips, and now only a lacey piece of white fabric stood
between my eyes and the most womanly part of a woman’s body. Aside from that last piece
of clothing, nothing covered her body but the tinkling gold bracelets and anklets and the
henna artwork that decorated her hands.

She was blushing a little as she pulled her knickers down her shapely legs. To my surprise
there was no hair.

‘I shaved it for you. I thought, you being from the West . . .’ One could only imagine what
ideas she had about the Western world.
But it didn’t really matter at that point if she was hairy or bald or what, because for the first
time in my life, at age twenty-three, I was finally looking at a real live pussy.

I stared at it, as if the secrets of life had just been unveiled to me—which I suppose was not
far from the truth. It felt unreal, sitting there on the bed, and in front of me was an
extraordinarily beautiful woman whom I had not seen or spoken to until earlier that day,
and this woman was naked.

And mine. She was for me. I was going to put my dick inside her.

I leaned towards her, and she towards me, and our lips touched, and I almost jumped at the
sensation. It was like an electric spark. We put our arms around each other, and I couldn’t
believe how her fingertips felt against my skin. We kissed again, and our lips stayed
together, getting more passionate until I fell gently on top of her.

My naked body pressed on hers, her fat breasts under my chest. Her wonderfully long black
hair flowed out over the sheets. Her hands lightly touched my shoulders and the bracelets
tapped against my skin. We both breathed tensely as my hard flesh moved between her
legs.

I clumsily guided it to her bald opening until I felt the wetness caress my tip. I inhaled
deeply and then pushed forward.

My little penis had entered paradise. Her wet, soft, warm folds of exquisitely textured skin
slid down over me with a sensation I could never have imagined. It felt indescribably good.

So good, in fact, that I moved out, and then back in, and before my next thrust was
completed I came.

I pumped wildly and awkwardly into the beautiful creature beneath me, squirting wave
after wave of come into her wet pussy.

When my orgasm subsided, I felt the shame come over me. I had finished too soon.

‘Sorry . . .’
‘It’s okay. It made me a little sore, so I wouldn’t want you to last too long. Fortunately,
you’re very small, so it didn’t hurt too much.’

And that was my wedding night. I lay on top of my bride, euphoric, embarrassed, ashamed,
gratified, and experiencing a million other emotions, but most of all I was happy.

We fell asleep naked.

***

As the weeks went by, Mira and I gradually learned about each other. She told me about
India; I had never even visited my parents’ country. I told her about growing up in England,
although my experience was hardly standard. I told her about the family business, and
about my part in it.

She was a good cook. She made Hyderabadi dishes I’d never had before, and quickly
learned to make some of my favourite foods. We went out to eat, too; I’ll never forget her
confusion when I offered to take her for a Ruby Murray.

We had sex frequently, but I’ll be honest, I didn’t know anything about foreplay. I just
pumped into her until I was done, which never took long, and had no idea if she had also
been satisfied. She never said anything, so I just assumed everything was okay.

We got internet at our house, which would be a mixed blessing. Neither of us had been
allowed to use it without a set of parental eyes over our shoulder, so it was kind of a new
thing for us. Oh, I had a smartphone, but they had installed software to track every thing I
did on the phone, so I never looked at porn or anything like that on it. It’s embarrassing,
being under the thumb of my parents until I was twenty-three, but like I said, it was either
that or give up my place in the family business. But now I was married, and had my own
place, and could do whatever I wanted. Or so I thought.

After dinner one night, Mira and I were watching football, and when the game ended and I
turned off the telly, Mira looked at me as if about to say something.
I waited, wondering what was on her mind, but I never would have guessed.

‘I want to have an orgasm.’

‘Oh.’ I was stunned and confused. ‘Well, if you want to go to the bedroom . . .’

‘What I mean is, so far I have not had an orgasm when we make love. You finish too fast. I
want to finish, too. And maybe your penis is too small.’

That again. She was not shy about bringing up my lack of size, right from our first night.

‘Well, I certainly want you to have an orgasm.’

‘I want you to give me oral sex.’

‘Oral sex?’ I had heard of it, of course, but I honestly didn’t realise normal couples actually
did that.

‘Yes. I read about it online. It appears it will help me have an orgasm.’ She was surprisingly
casual about it, as if she had just read an article about the benefits of a certain vitamin or
something. ‘I can give myself an orgasm quite easily with my fingers. But now that I’m
married, I shouldn’t have to, I don’t think.’

‘Well, I want to make you happy, of course. I’d do anything to make you happy.’ I meant it.
With a woman that attractive, I was eager to please her.

‘Do you mean it? Do you promise?’

I hadn’t expected her to make me promise, but like I said, I meant it.

‘Yes, I promise. I’ll do anything to make you happy. But, I have no idea how to go about
performing oral sex on you.’

‘Well, you just lick it, I guess. I’m sure with practice you’ll learn. Let’s try it.’

‘What, you mean now?’

She was already sliding down her skirt—a lehenga, you understand—she had no interest in
Western clothing, and that suited me just fine. She pulled it off and sat on the couch with
her lower half naked. Strangely, with her top on it made her bottom parts seem even more
naked.

She parted her legs, her bald pussy exposed.

I got off the sofa and crouched down between her legs, staring at the meaty lips she offered
me. They were glistening with desire, and I stiffened at the sight. Why had I never thought
of this before, I wondered.

I moved in closer, and kissed her soft thigh. My pulse rose as my face got within
centimetres, and I could smell her female essence. I stuck out my tongue and touched her
with it, and I could taste her juices, sweet and tangy.

I started licking. I had no sense of technique, I just lapped at her pussy like a cat, but it did
the trick; before long I could hear her breathing, and which soon changed to quiet little
moans. Soon her moans were no longer quiet or little: they were explicit and loud. I kept
licking, enjoying her enjoyment, my little penis unbearably hard.

‘Oh . . .Yes . . . Good . . . Right there! Yes! It feels good! Lick me . . . Don’t stop . . . I’m almost
there . . . I’m going to finish . . . I’m—I’m having . . . an . . . orgasm!’

She let out an operatic wail of pleasure that must have alarmed the neighbours, and her
hips bucked and jerked and I kept going until she moved herself away.

I wiped my chin and looked up at her. She was panting, and her cheeks were flushed with
passion, and she looked more beautiful ever.

‘Thank you,’ she said in an exhausted voice. ‘That was wonderful. I came very good.’

My erection felt like it was going to burst. I moved to her side, and pressed my body against
hers.

‘Can I put it in you?’

‘No, not now, darling. Let’s wait.’

‘But I’m so turned on.’

‘I want you to wait. Don’t touch yourself, just wait for me.’
‘O-okay.’

We went to bed, and as I lay there it took everything I had not to touch my beckoning hard-
on. It took me hours to fall asleep, and when I did I dreamed of licking my wife.

***

I went to work the next day with a stiffy that would not go down. As Mira saw me off, she
grabbed my crotch teasingly as she kissed me, then laughed.

I was the general manager at the family store, an import shop specialising in Indian goods
like artwork and furniture. My dad got the idea when he realised that a beautiful hand-
carved object could be produced in India for a few pence, but in Europe or America you
couldn’t get hand-carved anything without it costing an arm and a leg, and maybe a ball for
good measure. So the next time he went to India, he took two empty suitcases and filled
them with hand-made objects. My grandfather owned an Indian grocery here in London,
and when my dad got back with all his finds, he convinced his old man let him put some of
the stuff in the window of the store, priced very reasonably for something hand-crafted, but
vastly more than he had paid.

The stuff sold like bombs. Not just to Indian people, but to other Londoners who would
pass by the shop and see these exotic, beautiful things in the window. The profit margin
blew the food out of the water. Within three years they stopped selling groceries and
renamed the shop.

My dad started making arrangements with suppliers in India, and began to get his goods
shipped by boat. When my dad finally got an online store, that’s when things really took off:
now he could sell to anyone anywhere in the country.

Sometimes I feel bad, these craftspeople slaving away for pennies while we get rich from
their work. My dad has no such thoughts, as far as I know, but I’m rather more sensitive.
I was certainly sensitive this day, but in a different way now. I did my best to concentrate
on my job, but the aching between my legs just would not go away.

When I came home Mira had dinner ready, just like always. She looked so sexy in her exotic
clothing as she greeted me; I wanted to just strip her down and fuck her right there.

As I sat across from her and ate her delicious cooking, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She
smiled at me.

‘Why are you staring at me, darling?’

‘Because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And the sexiest, too.’

‘You just think that because you’re my husband, and you’ve had me only.’

‘No, I don’t think so. You’re perfect.’

‘Probably other men wouldn’t agree that I am attractive.’

‘I’m sure many, many men would agree with me.’

She had a distant look for a moment, and seemed to consider this.

‘I wonder . . .’

I couldn’t wait to get into bed with her that night. When I finally did, she undressed in front
of me, and turned to face me with her naked body bared.

‘Did you want to have an orgasm?’

‘Yes. I’ve been wanting to since last night. I’ve been hard all day.’

I had already taken my clothes off, and my little cock was sticking out hard. She came to the
bed and softly squeezed my erection with her fingers, and I almost came on the spot.

‘I want to have an orgasm, too. So, I want you to lick me again. It felt very good.’

She got on the bed and spread her legs, pointing with her big, seductive eyes at her smooth
pussy.
I didn’t argue, although I had just done it last night with nothing in return. I ran my tongue
over her soft, wet flesh, listening to her breathing rise and evolve into soft little gasps in her
enchanting voice.

It wasn’t long before she was moaning loud and then her fingers clutched at my hair.

‘Now . . . It’s happening!’

Her body shook as I lapped at her clit. I started to take my head away, but she pulled it back
in, pressing my face against her bald vulva.

‘I want more. . . . I want to do it again!’

My face was pressed so tightly against her that I could hardly lick, so I started sucking on
her clitoris and she went wild.

‘Yes! Do that! Good good good . . . Suck . . . Yes . . . Yes . . . I’m going to do it . . . I’m going . . . to
have . . . another . . . orgasm!’

She squealed with delight as she came between my sucking lips and tongue, and I was so
turned on that although nothing was touching my dick I felt like I was going to come too.

She released my hair from her surprisingly strong fingers and said between huffing and
puffing, ‘You can put it inside me now.’

Her body was still twitching from her climax as I crawled onto her, her big breasts jiggling
with each convulsion, and it was so erotic that I felt the come surge inside my cock. Mira
put her hand on it to guide me into her, but her fingers were too much stimulation and
before I made it inside I started to come, thick splats of semen pumping out onto her pussy
and her belly, and when it hit her she opened her eyes in surprise and dropped my dick,
and I kept coming, my juice making a mess of the sheets as the orgasm I had longed for was
wasted before I could get inside her.

I did manage to slide my cock in, but by then it was too late. The warm, wet folds of her
opening only told me how good it would have felt if I had been there a few seconds earlier.

Mira’s satisfied voice caressed my ear.

‘It’s okay. I had two very good orgasms.’

I sighed, having had only one very frustrating orgasm.

***

‘I think that’s a good idea,’ said Mira, apropos of absolutely nothing. We had just been
sitting at the table eating breakfast in silence, so I had no idea what she was talking about.

‘What’s a good idea?’

‘For every three of mine, you get one.’ She looked at me for affirmation, as if her meaning
was perfectly clear.

‘I’m sorry, what are we talking about?’

‘Orgasms, of course.’

‘What about them?’

‘I just told you.’ She looked slightly exasperated.

‘Just run that by me again, then. I’m not entirely sure what you’re on about.’

She gave a hint of a sigh, and explained slowly, as if talking to someone with a learning
disorder.

‘For every three orgasms you give me with your mouth, you can have one.’ She held out her
hand towards me, with the confident look of someone whose logic is flawless. ‘Don’t you
think? Yes?’

My mouth hung open for a moment, speechless.

‘I—well I can’t say I’m entirely certain exactly why that’s a good idea.’

‘Because. It is very easy for you to have an orgasm, isn’t it?’

‘Yes . . .’
‘And, I can’t finish with just that little thing inside me, yes?’

‘So I understand.’

‘So, it’s only fair that you give me just a little bit more of orgasm than you. Right?’

‘If you say so . . .’ I don’t know if she caught the hearty amount of skepticism in my tone.

‘Good. I’m so happy you agree! I love it when you give me oral sex, so I think it will be very
good for our relationship.’

‘I . . .’

‘I’m so glad we had this talk, darling.’

***

And from that point on our sex life assumed a three-to-one ratio in her favour. I would lick
her until she came three times, though sometimes I suspected she came more than that,
and then I would put it in her and get my single climax. If she only managed to come once
or twice, I wouldn’t get to finish at all, and I would have to wait until a day or two later,
suck her to an orgasm, and then finally be allowed relief.

But it turned me on like crazy, making her come like that, listening to her moans in that
sexy voice, knowing I was giving her so much pleasure—there was just something so
exciting about, so erotic.

We went on like this for months, and despite the disadvantages to myself, I didn’t complain.
Only one thing bothered me: I wanted to feel her mouth on my cock. She didn’t do it once so
far in our whole marriage, and I wanted it so bad, but I didn’t know how to bring it up.

Now, if you had told me that she would be the one to bring it up, and that the balance of
oral sex would shift in my favour, I would have been pretty bloody thrilled—until you told
me about the conditions attached.
***

Being Hindu never stopped my friend Prajesh’s family from celebrating Christmas. It did
stop mine, and I had always been envious when he showed me the presents he got. When
he got older and started throwing his own Christmas parties, I could never attend, but now,
married and in charge of my own household, I was free accept his invitation.

When Mira and I strolled up to his terrace, we exchanged a look and a smile as we saw the
lights and decorations brightening the outside of his home. You would never guess that
inside the house you’d find a statue of Ganesh and a puja tray. Speaking of Ganesh, Panacha
Ganapati starts on December twenty-first and runs five days, so my friend kind of merges
the two celebrations. Several times I had pointed this out to my parents, but it was always a
no-go. So much for assimilation.

Prajesh opened the door with a smile and said, ‘Come in! Glad you could finally make it!’

‘I’ve been waiting years for this. You remember Mira.’

‘Of course.’ He led us into the little home, thoroughly decorated with green and red, Santas
and reindeer. I couldn’t believe it. But what stood out the most, drawing our eyes the
moment we walked in, was the Christmas tree, peaked with a Father Christmas that nearly
reached the ceiling and glittering with tinsel and white lights.

Mira looked like a child as she exclaimed with wide-eyed delight, ‘It’s so beautiful!’ She
turned to me in excitement. ‘Can we have one next year?’

I thought for a second and then smiled.

‘Yeah. Yeah, as a matter of fact we can.’ I love my parents, but I’ll admit to just a bit of spite
in my smile.

Prajesh’s wife Trupti, in a snowman-decorated jumper, said, ‘Mira, I love your sari—it’s
perfect!’
My wife had chosen a red and green ensemble for the occasion.

‘Thank you. I like your sweater. And your home is beautiful.’

We said hello to Neil and Katie, to James and Shirali, and to Prajesh’s brother, and then
Prajesh said, ‘I don’t think you two have met Simon . . .’

The Simon in question shook my hand in an iron grip.

‘Hi mate.’ He was tall, had black hair and a face like a candidate to star in the next Bond
film, but the demeanor of a football hooligan.

‘This is my wife Mira . . .’

When he saw Mira, his eyes lit up brighter than the Christmas tree.

Mira said, ‘Nice to meet you.’

‘The pleasure is all mine.’ I think he forgot I was right there. I moved a little closer to Mira’s
side to remind him, and he pried his eyes away from my wife. ‘How did the two of you get
together?’

I felt like he wanted to ask, ‘How did a sorry berk like you land a woman like this?’

‘Our marriage was arranged, actually.’

His eyebrows went up.

‘They still do that? Well, maybe there’s something in it after all.’ I’m pretty sure that was a
compliment to Mira, but not one that made me at all comfortable.

The whole night, Simon gravitated to my wife and me. And by that I mean he gravitated to
Mira and almost certainly wished I was somewhere else entirely.

‘So what do you think of our little island?’

‘It’s . . .’ Mira thought a moment. ‘Different. Very, very different. But I like it. Have you ever
been to India?’

‘No, but if there’s a lot of girls like you there, I’m putting it on my “to do” list.’
I thought, that’s my wife you’re talking to, mate. But Mira seemed flattered, so I didn’t say
anything. I don’t know what I would have said anyway, because it’s not a situation I was
prepared for. I guess it couldn’t hurt that some bloke was complimenting my wife, although
his method seemed a bit unconventional.

Mira seemed to enjoy talking to Simon quite a lot, and I can’t say this thrilled me. But it’s
just talking, I thought. No harm in that. After all, she was a housewife, and didn’t really have
any friends of her own yet, so she probably just found it a change of pace from talking to
me. That was no big deal, right?

When we left the party, Mira was very affectionate on the way home, and that further
reassured me. In fact, by the time we got to our flat I was pretty sure I was getting laid.

Turns out it would be better—and worse.

We hadn’t even made it to the bedroom when her top came off—just the choli, she left the
sari on, and the effect was decidedly sexy. She kissed me passionately and playfully took my
cardigan off, and then my pants, and she kept kissing me the whole time. I wondered what
on earth had got into her as she laid me down on the bed and her lips left mine to travel
down. Down my chest, making a detour to stop by my nipple, then down my belly, and the
she went down further.

Every kiss felt electric as her lips hopped down under my belly, on my inner thigh right by
my balls, and then to my surprise and my delight, actually on my balls and then up, up my
shaft. I gasped as her lips pressed gently on my most sensitive skin, and then moved up to
the tip, and then her mouth opened and enveloped me completely.

She was sucking it. She was really finally sucking it and it felt better than I could have ever
imagined. Her hot, wet tongue dragged down my shaft and back up, and her lips pressed on
all sides, and it took me to a whole new world of pleasure.

She lifted her face off my throbbing head.

‘Does that feel good?’

‘Yes . . . It’s wonderful!’

‘I was thinking . . .’ She looked up at me with her beautiful face, her lips shining. ‘Instead of
you giving me three orgasms, I could do this three times . . .’

She paused a moment to take me into her mouth again and give a few glorious bobs of her
head, and I don’t think I had ever been happier, until she looked back up at me with her big
dark eyes and continued her train of thought.

‘. . . for every time I sleep with another man.’

‘Huh?’ It was as if I had been having the best dream ever and my alarm went off. ‘Another
man?’

‘Yes. I thought I should have more experiences. I know you only. And this thing is small. I
love it, but it is very small.’

‘You want to cheat on me?’ My life went from a dream to a nightmare.

‘No, I would never cheat on you! I just want you to share me. And you would watch, of
course. And as a reward I do this...’

And then she did it, she dipped her head back down and with her mouth and tongue and
lips brought my cock back to paradise. The tingling built up freshly and neared the edge,
but she took her lips away.

‘Of course, if you don’t want to, I understand. You can just lick me three times like before.
It’s up to you.’

‘I . . .’ I wanted my cock back in her mouth, that’s what. Three blowjobs like this, or me
eating her out three times to my one orgasm. Except for the part about another man, it was
an easy choice. ‘Okay . . .’

‘I can have other men sometimes? You won’t get mad?’

“I—I guess not . . .’ Even in this haze of pleasure, I wasn’t so sure of that.

‘Promise me.’ She put her mouth back on my cock and brought me closer to the edge.
‘Promise me it’s okay, and then you can finish in my mouth. You can release it into my
mouth.’
‘I promise. I promise!’ I would have promised to swim the Channel at that point—and I can
hardly swim.

She smiled at me sweetly, then opened her mouth and brought her warm lips and tongue
back over my shaft, and slid them wet up and down over my pressurised cock, and I
watched her gorgeous face as it moved up and down, looked at her breast popping out of
the sari, looked at her long black hair pouring over the bed, and I didn’t care who she
fucked, I just wanted her to keep sucking until I came, and she kept sucking, and the
tingling built up stronger and stronger, and my breaths came out in jerky pants and groans,
and it felt better and better, so good it almost scared me. Her head moved faster, her lips
and tongue pressed tighter against my sex-charged skin, and then I burst, the first shot
surging through my cock and pouring out in a thick squirt in Mira’s mouth, and she kept
sucking, and I kept coming hard, shooting spurt after wet spurt into her hot mouth,
emptying my load into her mouth until I was totally drained.

It left my body was shaking, my hands numb and my whole body except for my cock cold,
like all my blood had travelled to the centre of my body—which I suppose it had.

I watched her spit my semen into the bin, and I couldn’t believe how much I had shot in her
mouth. It was like a white cascade pouring from her lips.

Mira lay by my side, smiling, and I remembered our bargain. I had to admit, at that moment
it seemed fair.

***

Mira set the plate of malai korma in front of me and then sat herself across from me.

‘I want to have sex with that man who works with Prajesh.’

‘Mm?’ I almost spit the food out of my mouth.

‘Simon.’ She took a bite of the food she had made, and nodded; because the food came out
good, or she had remembered Simon’s name correctly, or because she was imagining
fucking Simon, I don’t know.

‘That wanker from the party? Him?’

‘Don’t you think he is very handsome?’

‘Well sure, I guess so.’ Actually I knew so. Too handsome for my liking, in fact. ‘Don’t you
think he’s just a bit of a yob? I mean his face isn’t bad, but his personality . . .’

‘It’s not that bad, I didn’t think. Besides, I wouldn’t be . . . shagging . . . his personality.’ At
least she didn’t say ‘fucking’, I guess.

‘Well . . .’

‘Don’t forget your promise.’

‘I didn’t, but . . .’ But him. ‘But how am I supposed to get hold of him? I can’t call Prajesh and
say, “Can you put me in touch with that bloke from the party? The wife wants to have it off
with him.” Sharing you is one thing, but having my friends know it is another.’

‘It’s okay, he gave me his number.’

‘What? When?’

‘When you were in the loo.’

That bastard. But in a way I was kind of flattered. I had a wife a guy like that wanted to
fuck—though I preferred to keep him wanting. But I also remembered how Mira’s mouth
felt wrapped around my willy, and I desperately wanted to feel that again.

***

My mobile was in my hand and my cock was in Mira’s mouth.

‘Go on, call, please.’ She looked up at me, a line of drool trailing out of the corner of her
mouth.

At that moment I didn’t care what she did, I just needed to finish. I hit the call button.

‘Hello?’ The tone of someone who didn’t recognise the number, and probably of someone
who gave his number out to a lot of women.

I told Simon my name, and he didn’t seem to remember who I was.

‘You know, from Prajesh’s party. Mira’s husband.’

‘Oh.’ Somewhat alarmed now. He would have expected Mira to call, not her husband. ‘Uh, hi
. . .’

‘We wanted to know if you fancy stopping by sometime.’ Well, she wanted to know,
anyway.

‘You mean for drinks, or dinner, or . . .’

‘No, I mean for . . . Well, you gave her your number, so we thought you might want to . . .’

‘Oh, yeah, absolutely. But you’re not a shirtlifter or anything, are you mate?’

‘No, this is strictly male to female stuff I’m talking about here.’

‘Then, yeah, count me in!’

We arranged the date, and I rang off.

‘It’s all set.’

‘He’s coming?’

‘Yes.’

She smiled, and dropped her lips back over my aching stiffy, and in a few seconds I got the
sweet relief I craved and I exploded in her mouth.

***
Simon showed up at the flat in a quilted jacket with a Chelsea patch on it and track pants.

‘Hi, mate, good to see you again.’ He shook my hand, apparently very fond of me now that I
was going to share my wife. He looked over my shoulder and smiled at her. ‘And good to
see you again, too.’

‘Well, come in.’ I stopped him before he tracked into our house with his trainers. “Would
you mind taking off your shoes?”

“Sure thing, mate.”

Now what, I wondered. What was the protocol for this sort of thing? What was it even
called? I couldn’t call it wife-swapping, because I wasn’t getting anyone’s wife in exchange
for mine. I guessed I would have to call it wife-sharing. It sounded awfully friendly.

I could see a line from Simon’s eyes to Mira’s arse, half hidden under her long hair, as he
followed her inside. When she turned around, his eyes slowly ran up, over her wide hips,
then the patch of skin her light pink sari left exposed, then pausing for quite some time on
her full bosom under the blouse before finally meeting her happy eyes.

The three of us stood in an awkward triangle in the living room. It was like a scene from an
old Western film.

‘Well,’ ventured Simon, ‘what’s the plan?’

Mira suggested, ‘Why don’t we go into the bedroom?’

Well, I could think of quite a few reasons not to, but naturally Simon found this plan
agreeable.

‘Yeah, let’s do that.’ For a moment I thought he was going to rub his hands together and
possibly give a diabolical laugh, but he didn’t.

We filed into the bedroom and I wondered, am I really going to do this? But I knew I was,
because Mira’s wet mouth made up for anything.
Mira reached the bed, turned to face Simon and me, and then hopped on the bed, her big
breasts bouncing at the landing, and her hair flying up a moment before settling back over
her shoulders.

‘Simon, would you please take your clothes off?’

‘Sure thing, love.’

As he lifted up his shirt, part of me thought, don’t call her ‘love’, you bastard, but another
part of me took pride in the fact that a guy like this wanted my wife. I had spent years
wishing I could get the girls I’d see with men like this, and now the roles were reversed,
except for the fact that he was actually going to get what he wanted.

I couldn’t lie to myself: this man was better-looking than me. His face belonged in front of
cameras, and while I compared his personality to a football hooligan, now that he took off
his shirt I saw that his body compared to a football player.

His ripped physique put me to shame. As if to draw attention to that unfortunate fact, Mira
said, ‘You too, dear.’

I pulled my shirt off and bared my soft torso to the world. Simon showed no signs of
mockery, I’ll give him that. Maybe he was too busy thinking about banging my wife. He slid
down his track pants, then the boxers, and out came the biggest cock I’ve ever seen. Now I
appeared even more pathetic.

I threw off the rest of my clothes, and stood there with my little prick sticking out half hard.
Mira smiled as she looked from one man to the other, and I don’t even want to know what
went through her mind. It couldn’t have been in my favour. I know everybody has there
own personal tastes, but I don’t think there’s any woman on the planet who, faced with a
naked Simon and a naked me, would have put in a vote for me.

Mira set aside her sari and then lifted her choli off her heavy chest. I literally saw Simon
stiffen to attention; it actually sprang up before my eyes. I too became rock hard at the
sight. Even though I’ve seen her naked many times, it never stopped turning me on.
She slid the lehenga down her legs. There was nothing more to slide off: she wasn’t wearing
knickers. Simon stared. So did I.

Mira motioned for Simon to step forward. He did, his big cock swaying with his steps. She
took it in her hands, white against her latte skin, and then lowered her lips down onto the
tip. She opened her mouth and took it in.

She sucked it. I stood there naked and watched my wife suck Simon’s big cock.

Well, why not? Was it really that much different from giving someone a hug or a
handshake? It was just a different piece of skin, that’s all. Is it really so bad to let someone
share in the pleasure your wife could give? I mean, the first thing we’re taught as a nipper is
that it’s selfish not to share.

But then there was the dirty aspect of it, that irrational habit of humans to make sex
something secretive and guilty, and that aspect also had an effect on how it felt to watch my
wife suck Simon’s thick shaft: it turned me on.

I did not expect that, but there it was. Seeing Mira’s mouth sliding over Simon’s white cock
made my own little brown cock painfully hard. I stood there and watched her full lips drag
over his shaft and his head, and noted how she could not bring her mouth more than
halfway down his length. She could take mine in her mouth completely. He was so much
bigger than me, and yet the humiliation of watching her suck a bigger man only turned me
on more.

Soon Simon could stand no more, the magic of Mira’s mouth was too much, and so he
stepped back and Mira smiled, her lips shining, and she lay back and opened her legs.
Simon stuck his face between her thighs and licked her, and when his tongue began to have
a clear effect on her, he moved up and shoved his cock inside my wife.

A moan escaped her lips as his greater size stretched her pussy, and she clutched Simon’s
back with her pretty little fingers. I couldn’t help feeling a little jealous, but I also couldn’t
help being more turned on with each thrust he gave Mira. She looked so sexy being fucked,
and I could now see her from this distanced viewpoint, so different from the limited view I
had when I made love to her. Her full breasts swayed with every deep prod of Simon’s
shaft, and her mouth hung open and she cried out in sexual joy.

Simon pulled out, his teeth clenched, his shaft coated with Mira’s wetness.

‘Your turn, mate. I need a breather.’

I slipped into Mira with shocking ease. Her fluids flowed in a lustful abundance, her insides
not yet adjusting back to my inferior size. I slid slowly in and out of her gorgeous body,
careful not to go over the edge on which I now hovered. My cock and my mind were so
overstimulated with lust that I could have finished in a second had I wished, but I didn’t
want it to end yet, so I moved very slowly. Soon I could not move at all without erupting,
and I carefully slid out of my wife’s dripping wet pussy.

I made way for Simon, who moved Mira onto her side, nestled next to her and slipped in
from behind.

I almost lost it right there. The scene was simply too sexy. Mira’s entire body was displayed
for me, and largely blocked my view of Simon. I could just see a portion of his white shaft
between her legs. Her pussy stretched with his thrusts, her eyes closed, and she let out a
thick moan. It was unbearably sexy, her body moving as he pushed into her. Aside from his
hand on her leg and his cock poking into her pussy, it looked like she was being fucked by a
ghost. Her long black hair fell over her big breasts, which trembled as he pushed into her,
and her stomach moved with his motions, and her wide hip stuck up enticingly, and she
looked so incredibly beautiful in the throws of pleasure that I didn’t care who gave it to her,
I just stared at her overwhelmed face and listened to her sensual moans, moans which
grew louder, and her cheeks took on a ruddy blush, and her lips quivered, and then she
cried out loud and she came, she came good and she came from being fucked by another
man and I didn’t care, it was the hottest sight I’ve ever witnessed as her body shook in front
of me in the throws of orgasm.

A moment later and Simon’s breathing lost control, and he flipped Mira onto her stomach
and pumped into her, coming in my wife, coming right in her pussy, and her plump rear
jiggled as his waist smacked hard into it as he rammed his cock to satisfaction.
He pulled out, his dick covered in male and female juices, and Mira’s body twitched, and I
knew Simon’s big cock had given her an incredibly intense pleasure.

Mira opened her eyes, with difficulty, and looked up and me with a weak smile on her sex-
reddened lips. She lifted her stomach off from the mattress, her big breasts hanging down
beneath her, and she climbed on top of me.

At first she moved slowly, all her energy spent in orgasmic bliss, sliding her dripping pussy
over my tingling shaft. The tingling grew, and I didn’t care that another man had just filled
her with come, or that it was touching my cock, or anything else, I just wanted that tingling
to keep growing as I looked at Mira riding me, faster now, her hair falling messily over her
shoulders and tickling my chest, her heavy breasts swaying above me. Her wide hips
swiveled back and forth as she slid her climax-tightened pussy over my tender little shaft,
the magical sensations growing with each wet rub of her insides, and it felt like a balloon
being filled with water, more and more pressure until it burst, and right at that moment I
felt her pussy squeeze down tight on me in another orgasm, and she rode me fast and hard
as I shot inside her pussy in an intense orgasmic explosion.

For a moment I forgot Simon was even there, watching. When Mira and I recovered, Simon
and I awkwardly acknowledged each other. He gave me a little nod.

‘Thanks, mate.’

I had just shared my wife with another man, and not only had it not been that bad, it had
actually been an amazing experience. I knew it would not be the last time.