My Loving Wife Malti Ch. 01

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?"