The Three Laborers

The Three Laborers

Kirti spotted me in the side yard, right after returning home from visiting a neighbor in the colony. I saw her give a huge smile through the window, then she literally burst out of the door and ran over to me, shedding her shawl as she moved. It was a welcome sight, since the cotton, sleeveless kameez she was wearing under the shawl was thin and tight, and showed off her full, shapely breasts to perfection.

Why she insisted on covering up her delightful body whenever she was around anyone but me was rather frustrating. We were in Delhi not some small village where tongues would wag. Women in the colony jogged in sports bras and tight yoga pants, went swimming in western-style bikinis. Yet, that liberalization that had come to India hadn't opened my wife. Of course, she had been brought up in a high-class Brahmin family, where she had been brought up to believe that her large breasts were a curse that drew the wrong kind of attention. Her figure was to be hidden, not paraded around like some low-caste item girl. She was taught that her looks did nothing but give otherwise pious and good men lewd thoughts. Of course, my behaviors probably just reinforced that idea. Even after five years of marriage, I couldn't help but ogle her even when she was wearing a simple cotton top.

Ironically, she loved sex. No, not just sex, but fucking. She had been shy and demure on our wedding night. A virgin with a stranger she had just been arranged into marriage with. Even on that night, she had open up and even shocked herself at how easily she was aroused. Over the early months of the marriage, as she became even more comfortable with me and secure in our relationship, she became more secure in her sexuality, but only in the safety of our bed. When she drank - a rarity - her sexual inhibitions totally disappeared, and she delighted in seeing how hard she got my cock. But only me. Despite a few suggestions for her to drink in company, to dress a little more provocatively when we met with friends was also met with a frown and the reminder that I had married a good girl.

The poor woman. Unfortunately for her, she had married a pervert with deviant fantasies. I didn't just want to show her off. It was more than that. Much more and things I would never tell her. One of my regular fantasies was her in a sari. I loved her in saris. But in this fantasy, it was tied low on her hips, revealing the long expanse of her flat abdomen. The top is cut small and tied with mere strings in the back. It reveals far more than it hides. She actually has a sari like that, but she seems to think its supposed to be paired with a long shawl. I imagine her without the shawl, her large breasts stretching the top taut, nipples hard, so that every man's eyes are on her. I've imagined more as well. Not just men taking her with their eyes, but actually taking her. I picture her stroking another man's cock. Sucking it like she sucks mine. Being used in front of me. Her covered with another man's cum. As I said, she married a pervert.

"I was walking by the Chopra's by the park, and I saw a few men working outside on her place, so I stopped in to see her," Kirti said excitedly breaking my reverie. Sometimes, when she talks, I can barely listen. She thinks I'm just ignoring her. In reality I tend to get lost when I look at those large brown eyes. That constantly enthusiastic smile. Even now, partly because of the fantasy and partly because I am again drowning in her innocent sensuality, my cock begins to stir. I swallow when she frowns and snaps a finger to get my attention.

"Pay attention! Apparently, they're replacing the entire outside wall of their house with natural stone, and from what I saw of it, they're doing an amazing job. Jivanti said they have been doing a really good job for her and so cheap! So I asked one of them if they would come over and we can talk to them about getting the garden wall fixed."

My arousal subsided as finally attended to what she was actually saying. She was clearly excited. And I agreed that it would be good to have the work done. It was always hard to find good laborers that weren't too expensive.

The three men came over at the end of the day, and after introductions all around, we took them out to the garden to see what we wanted done. One of the men was older, grey haired Jagu. He was clearly in charge, while the other two were young and fit in that natural way of men who worked with their hands all day - all bone and wiry sinew. And, given the heat, they were dressed in thin white t-shirts that contrasted with their dark skin. The youngest of the three gave his nickname - Tiger. He was all muscle and gladly showed it off in the tightest of t-shirts and stained shorts. A bright grin against dark skin. Probably the handsomest of the three. The third was Dev. He wasn't much to look at but the tan kurta and ill-fitting slacks he wore left little to the imagination and even I couldn't help but notice the size of his package. He wasn't even hard, and it was hard to avoid. I was surprised he hadn't gotten in trouble by some of the more prudish ladies in the colony for dressing so lewd.

When the outside examination of the yard was done Jagu began to quote us a price that was relatively cheap and they said it would be finished in less than a week. It was clear that Hindi was not his first language and he spoke with a heavy southeastern accent.

"That sounds great," my wife gushed. "We accept. When can you start?"

"Well, that's the problem," Dev interjected before Jagu could speak. "We are very busy, madam. We probably wouldn't be able to start until after the summer. At least four months.'

"Four months!" exclaimed Kirti, annoyance coloring her tone. In addition to conservative values, her Brahmin heritage also made her rather privileged, and she wasn't used to being told no by laborers. "Why do we have to wait when you took the Chopra's job just last week?"

"Well," Dev said slowly looking at his companions. "That's because we sometimes make special arrangements with special clients. And, Mrs Chopra is one of them. That is why we started in the evening. To fit her in after other work."

"Well, I'm sure if you can make a special arrangement with Mrs. Chopra, then you can make a special arrangement with us as well."

Negotiating for an increased rate was rather typical. He would have preferred if they just asked what they wanted rather than starting with an enticing low quote.

"Well, we were going to go home for the summer, but if you make it worth it for us, madam, we can do what we can. We can stay. You could become another special client." Dev looked at his companions with a grin on his face. "We work hard, madam. And, when we take extra work, we have to try to make it good for us. Pleasant so the next day is good -"

Tiger, with equally accented Hindi, took over: "Understand, sir. Madam. For us, a special client isn't about money. It is about how they treat us. How they respect us. How they care for us while we work with them."

I frowned. What the hell was he on about? Was this some sort of caste pride thing? Kirti's expression shifted between confusion and irritation.

Dev, turning to look at me and make everything clear, took over again, as if they had rehearsed this speech before. "Just as with our other special clients, we would stay on your property. In the yard. It makes it easier to start work and finish work without worrying about going anywhere."

That didn't sound too absurd. Dev continued as he looked at Kirti. Then I saw it. His tone was obsequious, but his expression. His expression held lust as his eyes raked over my wife. "More than that, though, Sir, we wish to be treated with respect. We take pride in our hard work and we want to be rewarded with more than just paisa. That is how we decided whether a client is special. Whether they are someone we think would treat us with respect."

Kriti replied, "Well, I treat everyone with respect. Of course, that is a given."

Tiger smiled. "That is good, Madam. You do seem like a special and kind woman. But, there is more to it. We would like you to share some time with us after our work is done. Not as just laborers, but as respected guests. Not every night. But some nights. And, we would share a drink together."

Kirti frowned. I looked over at Kirti. She hadn't registered Dev's earlier look. This could be interesting. Kirti may be a conservative dresser in public, but she got incredibly horny when she drank. My mind began to race with the possibilities that even the three men had not thought out. My cock stirred.

"That's a rather odd condition for work," Kirti said slowly, but before she could continue, I interrupted. "But, no problem at all. I think it is very reasonable."

My wife looked at me, but added, "Well, okay. I am sure my husband would be happy to have a drink with you.

"Oh, madam. Not you?" Dev asked.

"Well, I don't really drink."

Dev nodded as if in understanding and then continued. "Madam. Sir. There is one more thing."

The three men turned to look at my wife as he continued. "Tiger here has just gotten married. And, we have all been away from our wives for too long. That is why we were going to stop work and head home. We decided to stay because Ms. Chopra is a special client. You see, she helps us forget our loneliness."

I clenched my jaw to avoid grinning. Kriti's expression darkened. "What do you mean by that?"

Tiger stepped in, giving her what he considered his most winning smile: "Oh, nothing bad madam! Nothing like that. It is just that, well, she dressed nicely for us. It is a good motivator. We can focus on our work instead of thinking of our wives all day. So, we think you should do that as well. When we drink together, you should dress nice for us."

"What? That's ridiculous! And how dare - "

"You are the one who needs this work done. As you said it is hard to find such good work. And we are so very cheap. Do you not think that we should have some payment for being away from our wives and families for so long. All the time we spend away from our women? You must have noticed how nicely Mrs. Chopra was dressed for us."

My wife's haughtiness came to the fore as she raised an eyebrow, completely oblivious to the effect of her crossed arms and the slight smile on my face. "You expect me to dress to entertain you? This isn't some brothel!"

"Please, madam." He looked at me and put his hands together in obsequious apology, though there was clearly nothing apologetic about his tone. "Sir. Don't be insulted. Don't be angry. We are just telling you what we need for us to take this job. If you are not happy, we will humbly leave."

"Look, wait. We need this work done, but I don't think I can do that. There must be some other way we can do this. What if we double your payment?"

"No, madam. That is very generous of the good lady, but there's no other way. We don't need extra money. As I said before, we wished to be paid in respect and something to help forget our loneliness. We have needs that must be met and cannot while we are away from our homes."

"No, I can't do that."

"I understand, madam. Please, do not be offended. You are a very beautiful, high-class lady. We did not mean to offend you." He looked at me. "And, not you either, good sir. We think it is good to let you know what we need before beginning the work. So, there is no confusion. No anger, later. We'll be on our way then." And the three of them turned and started to head out of the garden.

"Wait!" Kirti called as they opened the gate to leave. She looked at me questioningly. I gave her a little nod. "OK, we'll give it a try. But if I don't like it, we stop and you leave."

"Of course, madam. We would never want you to do what you do not want to do. We are simply humble men with needs." Jagu said, speaking for the first time. He scratched at his heavy beard. We are finished with Mrs. Chopra in two days and then will come here."

"Huh!" Kirti said to me, shaking her head in disbelief at what she had agreed to. As for me, I just smiled to myself. My wife had agreed to let other men see her. The three men had been bold making such a proposition to a woman of her status. She could have had them arrested, but they had clearly done this plenty of times before and knew who could be approached with such ridiculous demands. A part of me hoped that boldness would take things even further. My cock was twitching.

The men arrived two days later, earlier than promised. They glanced around for my wife, gave me a brief nod, and then headed into the garden with their tools. It was a warm humid day, but when Tiger immediately peeled of his t-shirt, I had the impression that he would have done the same even in the coldest night of winter. There was a charming vanity to youth. My hand went to my own midriff as I considered the young man's chiseled torso and defined plane of his abdomen. A momentary twinge of jealousy made me wonder if I really did want my fantasy to come true. For the rest of the day, they worked hard and it is obvious they genuinely took pride in their work.

The sound of the night birds and insects signaled the end of the day just as the sky turned from its dark blue to night black. They had worked the last half hour with lanterns and then used buckets of cold water to cleanse themselves. Kirti was delighted with the work they had done. They didn't make demands that evening. Jagu left to pick up some food and drink for them. They made their

The began just after dawn the next day. And, again, worked hard with brief breaks for water and tea breaks. A small meal was had. That night, though as the work was finished, they washed up and came into the home. Dev reminded us of their request. So, I poured them the promised drinks and we chatted about the impressive progress they had made. Just as they were finish their first pegs of imported whiskey, Kirti came down. She had dressed in a simple yellow sari. She had tied it typically high on her waist and the blouse was a thick embroidered number. Aside from her bare abdomen, it was relatively conservative. Yet, my cock immediately stirred and from the intake of breath and shifting of the other three men, she had a similar effect on them. She was a naturally sensual woman and I couldn't imagine how they would have reacted if she accentuated that sensuality with proper clothes.

"Is this what you were wanting?" She asked. Underneath her rather haughtiness, I found an undertone of vanity. It was difficult to not have some sense of gratification when you realized men were willing to be at your beck and call just for a glimpse. And, with a sudden mischievous smile, she added, "Better than Mrs. Chopra, I hope."

"Madam. You are so very beautiful." Dev said. He held his glass in his hand, mesmerized. I had always told my wife that she would have that effect on men if she ever bothered to dress even minutely seductive. "Sir. You are a very lucky man. Very lucky."

I raised my glass in acknowledgement. After a hesitant glance at me, she looked at the glass of wine I had poured for her. Then, much to my delight, she actually picked it up. The conversation continued as we drank and, by the time she was on her third glass of wine, my wife was languidly leaning into me, her face flushed, and eyes half lidded. The change was welcomed by us four. As the three men continued to look at me, I wrapped my arm around her waist, resting it on her flat abdomen just above the hem of her sari. Locking eyes with them, a grin on my face, I caressed that caramel brown skin. As if forgetting who was there, a slight sigh of pleasure escaped her lips.

The three men had to adjust themselves. Dev shifting uncomfortably, trying to avoid a lewd gesture that would scare my wife. Jagu and Tiger were less considerate. Jagu grinned as he shifted his erection, while Tiger stroked himself through his pants. It was too much, and my wife's eyes grew wide. She pulled away from me and pulled the pallu of her sari to cover the bare skin.

"I'm sorry." She said to the men, before turning a glower toward me. "I forgot myself."

"It is quite alright, madam. It is what we needed for such a hard day's work."

The moment lost, the drinks were finished in quick gulps and the men headed out to sleep on the back veranda. Dev was muttering something to Jagu and Tiger in a fast clipped eastern dialect that may as well not have been an Indian tongue, but from his tone and the glance he turned toward my wife as we waved them off made it clear what he thought of their overt lewdness.

The next two evenings of work went without incident. The laborers were making good progress and regardless of their rather indiscrete request, they clearly took pride in their work. And, the men had learned their lesson, much more careful in their behaviors to keep from scaring Kirti. They had realized that I was amenable to whatever they had in mind. In fact, they didn't even come into the house, sharing a drink with me on the veranda. Kirti joined us. They accepted her conservative dress. I was glad they were playing the long game. We still had time before the wall was finished.

On the fourth night, my wife wore a long kurta that fell to just above her knees but left off the salwar that would normally go with it. Though less revealing than the sari, the occasional glimpse of toned legs was enough to satisfy the men. The fifth night, she opted for a pair of tight yoga pants and a sports bra. It was far more revealing than the sari and the tight material left little to the imagination. She was gong to go for a night jog with her friend, so had decided to kill two birds with one stone. On both nights, though, she was far more careful with the wine, much to all our disappointment.

The fifth night was Friday and as the men started to put away their tools and clean up, music from a nearby house started. Someone was having a party. Jagu was the first to walk in, carrying a large metal jug and a grin on his face.

"What - "

"You will see, sir." He grinned, putting his fingers to his lips.

He was followed by Tiger, once again shirtless and his head bobbing to the music.

"I love this song." And, he began to sing the lyrics in his own dialect. I didn't recognize his version, but it was chart topping Bollywood song so easily recognizable.

The music was loud and as Kirti came out of our bedroom, whoever was playing the music changed it to a Bollywood item number. She was dressed in another pair of yoga pants and a sports bra. She looked amazing, but to my surprise when Dev came in he wore a frown on his face.

"Madam. Please, Madam." He shook his head like a disappointed uncle. "What is this? You wore something like this already. And listen to the good music."

"What!?" Kirti looked confused and irritated.

"It is Friday. Listen to that music! You should wear something desi. Something sexy to go with the music." He did a little jig.

Kirti looked at me. I looked at Kirti and merely shrugged. "You look gorgeous, but maybe something else? I mean it is Friday. And, they've done a great job on the wall."

"Yes, madam!" Tiger said, swaying to the new music. "You look very very hot. But, something with a little masala."

With a final glance toward me and an acquiescent shrug, she went back into the bedroom. She didn't emerge for some time, and we passed the time with some more whiskey. I found that I actually enjoyed the men's company. Even with the language barrier, jokes and stories translated well enough. And, when Kirti still hadn't emerged, Jagu tired of the whiskey and drew five steel cups and poured out a milky white drink that smelled of saffron and rose from the jug. My eyes grew wide - bhang!

I hadn't had bhang since a holi festival over six years ago, just before Kirti and I had gotten married. And, I was certain, Kirti had never had it. Her family was far too rigid to try cannabis.