Indian Wife Has Affair with Servant

Indian Wife Has Affair with Servant

Indian wife sleeps with the house servant to get pregnant.

Author's note: This is a story of a cheating wife, of adultery, of cuckoldry. If that is not your thing, skip this story. And remember while adultery can be a great source of enjoyment in fantasy and erotica, in real life it damages souls and destroys marriages. Please treat the following story as a fiction and fantasy piece only. It is written to deliver pleasure and has no other purpose. - Tarek Zia

This is an original work, although I have taken my inspiration from countless servant and lady affair stories online, particularly in the Indian setting. Thanks to everyone who has written about the lady of the house getting a fucking from the milkman, the driver, the man servant, the guard, the husband of the maid, the sabzi wala... your words have inspired this story. - Tarek Zia

I made my way sneakily downstairs towards the servants' quarters, careful not to make any noise. Just like for the past four months, it was something I now found myself doing repeatedly more or less every other night, much to my shame and chagrin. As I approached our man servant Bhola's bedroom, the noises that were coming from behind the door was getting louder and louder.

I began to blush, both with shame and humiliation, but also with distinct arousal. An arousal that I could not explain, but also could not deny, as my penis started to harden. The shame and humiliation, of course, was because of what was happening behind that door. I carefully knelt by the door, swallowed, and put an ear to the keyhole.

Creak! Squeak!

Creak! Squeak!

The noises were loud now, and very audible. The old bed in Bhola's room was rocking back and forth, squeaking and its hinges creaking. My servant Bhola was having loud, unbridled, raw, passionate sex, and I could hear his naked skin slapping against someone else's naked skin. The lady that my servant was furiously fucking began to moan loudly, as her pleasure intensified.

"Oh, Bhola!" She murmured. "Oh, my dear Bhola. You are so good!"

A familiar sense of warm humiliation came over me as I heard my wife moan, even as the squeaking of the bed springs became more and more frequent. Yes, the lady that my servant was banging, the lady inside whose cunt Bhola's large dick was ploughing in and out, that lady was the love of my life - my own dear sweet wife of many years, Neetu.

"Oh Bhola! Oh, BHOLA!"

Neetu was unable to control herself, even as waves of pleasure washed over her. She kept taking on our servant's name even as he kept humping her. She was quite loud too, and sometimes I wondered how far the sounds would carry out of the window from Bhola's room. Bhola was on the ground floor, and his window faced the street. Even though we had a fence that covered the house, anyone on the street walking beside the fence could have listened in. Not that anyone was walking at 2 am in the morning, but still.

Creak! Squeak!

Creak! Squeak!

The rhythmic creaking of the bed frame added to my humiliation, indicating to me that my wife Neetu was again being deeply penetrated by Bhola, my servant's extremely large dick burrowing into my wife's cunt, and from her moans and murmurs I could make out that she was loving every moment of it. As always.

Creak! Squeak!

Creak! Squeak!

The bed was rocking, just like every other night when Bhola fucked my wife.

"Ohh-h B-b-bhola! I love your big dick!" Neetu called out in passion to our hung servant. "Harder! AAAH! Oh, I love you, Bhola."

There was a slight pause, which I later understood was Bhola stopping his fucking and raising a hand.

SLAP!

The noise was sharp, but not too loud. Bhola had struck my wife across her face, but not too hard. He slapped her again.

SLAP!

Recently he was slapping her a lot during their love making.

SLAP!

"Memsaab. You make too much noise!" Bhola, now hardly behaving like a servant, grunted in reply. He then ordered, "Kiss me, memsaab."

"Oh, yes, Bhola. I am sorry, Bhola."

I heard them kiss loudly, my wife slobbering all over him in her passion. Bhola then resumed the fucking as he continued to plough into her.

Creak! Squeak!

Creak! Squeak!

"Ungh! Ungh! Oh Bhola!" My wife was moaning louder and louder now, despite the risk of getting slapped again. "I love you!"

Even Bhola began to thrust into her more urgently. I tried peeing though the keyhole, but I couldn't really make out what was happening as the lights were off. I knew lately that Bhola had started to get a little bit rougher with my wife, such as slapping her more and more, but I still couldn't see inside the room.

However, the noises emanating through the keyhole made it crystal clear what was happening inside behind the locked door.

"Oh, Bhola!" Neetu gasped. "Oh my God! It's... so... big! I'm cumming!!"

Creak! Squeak!

Creak! Squeak!

The bed continued to creak as Bhola continued to bang her, even as my wife began her orgasm.

"Aaah! Aaaaah! Oh YES! OH FUCK! Aaaaah!"

Neetu kept grunting. The bedsprings were squeaking furiously as she received Bhola's thrusts. The bed was now hitting the wall hard, and the springs sounded as if they were going to break. Bhola seemed to be fucking my wife hard and fast now.

Creak! Squeak!

Creak! Squeak!

"Memsaab." Suddenly Bhola spoke. "I am going to cum."

SMOOCH!

I heard my wife loudly and sloppily plant some kisses on our servant.

"Oh, Bhola. Cum in me."

As if he was seeking her permission!

Creak! Squeak!

Creak! Squeak!

The creaking of the bed become louder and louder.

"Oh YESSS!! AAAH! AHHH!!" Neetu was quite vocal now, and loud. "Oh Bhola! I love you, Bhola. Please, cum in me. Oh, Bhola!!

I heard Bhola groan loudly. It was a sound I was familiar with before, having listened to this same scene every night.

"AAAAAAHHHH!"

The bed was now rocking fast.

Creak! Squeak!

Creak! Squeak!

No doubt, Bhola was now ejaculating into my wife. My dear wife Neetu's fertile womb was now being filled by seed from a man who was not her husband but our servant Bhola.

Again.

Neetu was silent, occasionally letting out a grunt as Bhola flexed his buttocks from time to time, pumping more and more of his seed inside her. I then heard her kiss our servant again.

SMOOCH!

"Oh, Bhola. Oh, my love." Neetu was moaning, even as Bhola continued to pump his semen into her. "I love you. Oh, that was amazing."

Usually this was the time I made my way back to our bedroom, got into bed and pretended to be asleep. My wife would no doubt make her way back to our bedroom soon. But, as I stood outside, I didn't hear any of them move. Surely, they - Bhola and my wife - weren't thinking of going another round?

They were!

I had to wait nearly twenty-five minutes before I heard the bed move again.

"Bhola, please put on more of the oil." I heard my wife tell her lover. "And remember to be gentle. You have a big cock. Quite big. Much bigger than my husband."

"Yes, memsaab, I know! Anyone who fucks you has a cock larger than your husband, memsaab!"

There was the sound of laughter as both my wife and her lover laughed at my small size. I stood there, embarrassed, humiliated, but also very aroused. Again. Bhola was going to fuck my wife in the ass! That was something she had always said disgusted her, and she never wanted to even try it with me! And here she was, bending over for my servant.

I heard more rustling noises on the bed, and the soft creaking of the springs.

"Gentle. Slow." Neetu was directing our servant, as if instructing him in the kitchen as a boss rather than in the bedroom as a lover.

"Yes, memsaab, don't worry. Your big gaand can take it." Bhola replied, and then he must have raised his hand again, because the next two sounds I heard were him smacking my wife's ass loudly.

SPANK!

"You have such a nice butt, memsaab." Bhola told my wife. "I want to spank you all day!"

SPANK!

"You do spank me all day, Bhola!" My wife replied. "Yesterday, in the kitchen! You made me bend over the counter and then you spanked me while my husband was in the next room!"

SPANK!

"Ah, yes," Bhola laughed. "What an idiot, your husband!"

SPANK!

"Oh, Bhola." My wife crooned. "Please be gentle with me, na! You now slap me, spank me..."

SPANK!

"And I fuck you." Bhola grunted. "In your pussy and your ass, memsaab."

"Yes, Bhola, that you do."

SPANK!

"Why do you let me do it, memsaab?" I heard Bhola laugh. "You are a married woman, from a respectable class and family. And here you are, in your servant's bed, getting fucked in the ass, getting a spanking on your ass from your servant, while your husband sleeps soundly upstairs."

SPANK!

SPANK!

My wife didn't reply as our servant continued to spank her.

"This is because you are slut, memsaab." Bhola told her. "You were always a slut. You just had to get fucked by me to know it."

SPANK!

"I... I...I am a slut. I... I belong to you now, Bhola." My wife finally replied. "My ass... my pussy. Oh Bhola! Please... fuck me now!"

SPANK!

SPANK!

"And I will slap you. And spank you."

Creak! Squeak!

My wife didn't reply. Slowly and slowly, Bhola must have pushed more and more of his dick into her ass and must have started to hump her.

Creak! Squeak!

The rhythmic creaking of the bed frame intensified. This time Neetu's vocalizations were much clearer.

Creak! Squeak!

"Ooooh Bhola!" I heard my wife cry out. "Slower, please. Slower! Aaaah, nehi! Don't get so excited. Please use some more oil, meri jaan!"

"Yes, memsaab, sorry about that."

She called him 'meri jaan', a term of endearment that she usually reserved for me. I heard him spank her again.

SPANK!

SPANK!

"Oh, Bhola." I heard my wife utter. "You are so deep inside me now."

"Brace yourself, memsaab." Bhola replied. "You are such a nice slut. Letting your servant screw you in the ass."

Creak! Squeak!

Creak! Squeak!

He was fucking her earnestly now. My wife Neetu was bravely taking it in her butt. The noise of the bed was frantic - I hoped the bed wasn't going to break.

Creak! Squeak!

Creak! Squeak!

"Oh, Bhola! Oh, Bhola! Aaaaangh! Aaaaangh!"

Neetu was now moaning... or crying. I could imagine her face contorted, and her breasts slapping back and forth as our servant pushed himself from back in and out, in and out, in and out, in and out, in and out, of her asshole.

"Oh, Bhola! BHOLA!" Neetu now let out a tremendous noise as she started to climax. "Oh, Bhola."

SPANK!

SPANK!

I knew Bhola wouldn't be able to hold out much longer as he smacked my wife's buttocks loudly.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Once again, I heard that familiar guttural sound. My servant was at this moment squirting a good quantity of his semen into my wife's rectum.

"Oh, Bhola!" Neetu could only mumble as her own orgasm subsided. "Oh, Bhola."

* * *

I guess I better start at the beginning.

It was a just a little bit less than three years ago. In fact, I remember the exact date and time. It was just 1230 pm and I was in the office, eating my lunch, when I noticed that I had a new email in my inbox. It was forwarded to me by my wife Neetu. As I read the email, I paused, and then put my sandwich on my table, my appetite temporarily lost.

It was an email from the fertility clinic. We had just visited the famous clinic of Dr. Das in Delhi last week. After years of trying for a kid, we figured we might need a little help. The results were now in front of me.

My wife was perfectly healthy. There was nothing wrong with her at all. When it came to me, however, the report wasn't that good. The technical term was oligospermia, or low sperm count. Apparently, there was a natural chance we could conceive naturally, but it was a very low probability. Something about dilated testicular veins. The treatment was there, but it was expensive, and success was not guaranteed.

I read my wife's note attached to the report.

"I love you, Gopal. Come home tonight, and we can talk about it."

I continued to read the report, especially the sections that my wife highlighted.

Artificial insemination was an option, but this was India, and it was expensive. Very expensive. Not to mention, it was a taboo topic. What it really meant was that I would allow another man's sperm to impregnate my wife. We could have a child, but the offspring would, biologically, not be mine. Was I prepared to deal with that?

I sighed and decided to call my wife. The report had actually been emailed in the morning, and I just happened to look at it now. I needed to talk to her.

"I am looking at the fertility clinic material." I told her. "It's too damn expensive, honey."

For a moment, my wife didn't say anything. If she was beside me, she would have clasped my hand. For a moment, none of us spoke.

"Look, darling." Neetu finally said. "We could go for the treatment. The doctor did say there is a chance we can conceive naturally. Low chance, yes, but a chance."

"I don't know." I was looking at the cost. I was still paying off my car and my student loan, and we had just purchased a house. A rather large house. And I didn't really want to fire our servant. This was India, and you needed hired help in the house.

"We can't get into that sort of expense right now." I spoke. 'Besides, if I go for the treatment, I have to take time off... and I can't really take time out now from my career. I was just promoted, you know."

"What about... what about..." My wife hesitated, and then blurted out, "What about artificial insemination, baby doll? It's expensive too, but not that much. We can afford it."

"Ya, I don't know about that." I mumbled. My wife didn't say anything for a while.

"Look." She finally said. "This is a lot to take in. Why don't you relax, come home in the evening, and we can discuss it."

"Sure." I hung up.

For the next few weeks, I was a little depressed, as you can expect. Initially Neetu didn't say much but comforted me. Slowly, as life returned to normal, and we got busy with day-to-day things, she started to talk about it, and our options.

I knew my wife Neetu talked to her mother Neelam. I mean I kept the news hidden from my side of the family, but Neetu shared everything with my mother-in-law.

"He just needs to eat more nuts." My mother-in-law advised. And thus began an almost weekly dose of some helpful advice that would go on for a couple of months.

"Have him drink milk every day."

"Oh, it must be goat milk, not cow milk."

"Did you visit this particular baba ji or this guru at this ashram? His blessing can cure anything. He's a devotee of Bholenath."

"Are you eating enough meat? Make sure he eats meat."

"You need to have sex on full moon nights."

"What position are you having sex in?"

In fact, soon my mother-in-law was more interested in our sex lives than me! As if I didn't have enough troubles, now every way I wanted to have sex was going to be dictated by her.

Having been married for some time, sex had now become routine for us.

"You need to spice it up." My mother-in-law said. "Then only your sperm will wake up."

Alas, of course, all of my mother-in-law's advice and fanciful theories amounted to nothing, and six months later we were no better off than before. Then one day my wife broached the topic again about alternate treatments.

"Honey, what do you think about artificial insemination!" She asked. "It is now very popular, and no one has to know!"

"I don't know, Neetu." I was honest in my reply. "How can I let someone else impregnate you!"

"It's not really 'someone else'!" She argued. "It's not like I am going to sleep with another man and have him knock me up!"

If only we knew then how foretelling her words would be!

Our situation started to affect our sex life, and our well being. I knew Neetu was unhappy, and though she tried not to blame me for our destiny, at some level there must have been some resentment. I couldn't blame her for it - every woman wants to be a mother.

Then one day a moment happened that really changed everything.

I was picking up Neetu from the grocery store and she was waiting for me outside. As I drove to the entrance, I saw her laughing. She was talking (and playing) with two young girls who were also waiting with their mother. Neetu looked so beautiful, so happy. Sometimes you have these moments that change your perspectives, and that was one of them.

"Hi darling." I said, as she got into the car. Neetu didn't say anything back but nodded. As we parked on our driveway, I turned to her and said, "Let's look into sperm donors."

Her eyes welled up and she immediately began to cry. We kissed a few more times, our hearts finally returning to each other.

"Are you sure?" Neetu asked me. "I was thinking... maybe you prefer to adopt?"

"No." I paused, and then added. "Neetu, I love you. And I want it to be your child. So that you are the mother. I want you to experience the whole experience of motherhood."

Neetu kissed me again.

"Let's go inside, darling." She said, her eyes sparkling. "It doesn't matter who the donor is, in my eyes the father will always be you."

Unknown to us, the father of our future first born was already inside our house.

* * *

"I think," Neetu said, as she brushed her hair, "Bhola has a crush on me."

I still remember that night. I was sitting in our bed, watched my wife Neetu get ready for bed. She was seated on a stool in front of her dressing table, brushing her luscious long locks. She was dressed in a pink nightie, and I could see the outline of her bra inside through the thin material of her nightdress, hiding her sizeable melons.

There was no other way to say it - Neetu was still a gorgeous woman. I was now forty-one, but Neetu was thirty-one, or ten years younger than me. We had been married for almost six years now. It was an arranged marriage, but it made every one of my friends jealous. They would see me, a near middle-aged man, a virgin, with a little potbelly who had remained single till I was thirty-five, and now suddenly I had a bombshell of a wife.

Neetu kept herself in shape by strict exercise and yoga. Even now, crossing thirty-one only recently, she still had a slim figure, big breasts, and a high reservoir of energy. The only thing that she worried about was that her butt that was always a little big. I told her not to worry about it at all - I actually liked women with a little bit in the trunk - but you know women. They worry about the silliest things. Neetu, in my eyes, was one of the most perfect Indian ladies, svelte figure but big breasts, and hips gradually widening leading to nice looking buttocks. Every time I thought of her, I wanted to fuck her.

It had been almost a year since those tests at the fertility clinic. So far we hadn't been able to find a donor, especially due to the cost. I also wanted someone who looked like me, and even the donor's parents to look like me, since I didn't want to ever explain the child's paternity and lineage to anyone. So far we hadn't found a practical match.

Now let me talk about Bhola.