Old Man and Indian Wife Ch. 02byshiprat©
Preface - This story is the same as Old Man and the Wife but here, the wife narrates. Again, thanks to aurelius1982 who helped me write what was in my head. You can read the husband's narration first. It will put the events here in perspective. This story also fills in some gaps that the other story has. In fact I suggest having both stories open simultaneously to note the different ways in which two people view the same situation.
My name is Shipra and before I get to the events in Las Vegas, I think it'd be useful to talk a little about the relevant portions of my past.
I am the younger of two sisters, born in a family that was very liberal. My parents were both college professors, and they never treated my sister or I like average Indian parents treat girls. We were encouraged to give our best and excel at everything, be it academics or sports.
I was always considered a very cute and pretty child, and was used to attention from everyone. But despite my dainty looks, I was a bit of a tomboy and spent most of my early childhood on the playground with boys. Around age 12 is when the first major changes in my life began. I hit puberty and started growing in every which way. I shot up eight inches in just over a year, and started filling out as well. Initially, I was embarrassed at the unstoppable growth of my boobs. Boys whom I used to play with were starting to notice the change too, leading to some awkwardness. My abnormal height combined with my big boobs led me to unconsciously adopt a hunching posture.
Luckily, my parents were great at communicating with me and explained that I had nothing to be ashamed of. I was told that an ample chest is seen as a sign of beauty, as is being tall, and I should not be ashamed of my body. I stopped hunching, and through my teenage years, came to terms with my looks. I started reading about love and sex, watched sneaked porno films with girlfriends, and was soon fantasizing about naughty things.
It turns out that having encouraging, even demanding parents, can be a bit of a double edged sword in India. Thanks to their pushing, I excelled at studies, sport (played basketball and volleyball for the state), and was well-read and exposed to quality cinema. While my girlfriends read Nancy Drew, I had moved on to Raymond Chandler. When they moved on to trashy Mills&Boons romance novels, I finished Jane Austen. And when they discovered Jane Austen, I was reading the works of Camus, Dostoevsky, Vonnegut, and Borges.
While my parents were proud they were raising such a well-rounded daughter, they didn't realize that it made me something of a snob when it came to my peers. I wasn't a bitch or anything, but I did find it difficult to get interested in guys my age. The good looking jocks were too dumb for me to connect with intellectually. the smart ones were too clumsy, geeky, and awkward around my radiant beauty.
By the time I turned 18, I had briefly dated a few guys, but couldn't really feel too attracted to them. I had a hyperactive imagination when it came to sex and I read about it voraciously. So I had no qualms losing my virginity to a jock one year older to me one weekend when his parents were out of town. We had sex a few more times, but I simply did not get the rush or the excitement I had read so much about. Maybe because he had been a virgin too, and didn't know much of what he was doing. I broke up with him, hooked up with another guy, but again, the mental as well as physical connection was lacking.
I finished 12th grade in the same year my sister finished college. My parents decided to take us on a vacation to Goa. We rented a small beach cabin on South Goa and spent the days lounging on the beach, reading, trying different kinds of seafood, and playing some games.
One night, after my parents had fallen asleep, my sister and I went for a walk on the beach. We didn't want to stray too far that late at night, so we kept doing the rounds of the beach close to our cabin, as we engaged in the usual sisterly talk about boys, clothes, books, and life. My sister was planning on taking the GRE and applying to American grad schools, something my parents were extremely supportive of. She was telling me about her latest break-up, when we noticed a man walking a few feet behind us.
"Hi, sorry if I scared you." the man said in a British accent and approached us.
He was old, maybe in his late 50s. But looked very lean and fit. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and knee-length shorts and had what looked like an expensive SLR camera around his neck. he did not look scary or intimidating at all, so my sister and I stopped to talk to him.
"Hello. My name is Nigel." he said extending his hand towards us. My sister shook it.
"Hi." I said.
"I am sorry, but I couldn't help but notice you as you were walking on the beach." he said, looking at me. "And this may seem abrupt, but have you considered a career in modelling?"
"Excuse me?" my sister jumped in.
"I am a fashion photographer based in London here to scout talent for a modeling assignment. Would you be interested?"
"Shipra?" my sister smiled and looked at me questioningly.
"Ummm.. I don't think I am interested." I said. This wasn't the first time someone had suggested modeling as a career option. When you are a pretty young lady standing at 5 ft 10 in Bombay, you keep getting approached with such offers. But I had no interest in pursuing a career that consisted of starving yourself and strutting around on a ramp.
"Why not? There's good money in it." Nigel said, checking me out from head to toe. I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt.
"We don't need money." my sister barged in. "Thanks but bye."
We walked away giggling. My sister teased me about it for a while and we turned around and continued walking towards the cabin. We were both feeling a little peckish so we decided to stop at a beach shack for some food. I noticed that Nigel was sitting a few tables away drinking beer. He smiled at us when we walked in and we smiled back. The food arrived, we ate and then my sister said she needed to use the bathroom.
As soon as she left, Nigel got up and approached me. I smiled, and he took it as an invitation to sit down, which he did, next to me.
"You really have a gorgeous face." he said leaning close to me.
"Thank you." I said and blushed.
"Amazing tits too."
I shot him a dirty look but he was unfazed by it. He was very obviously ogling my breasts which were pushing against the t-shirt. At that time, I measured 34D. I expected him to look away, but he didn't. He continued to eye me with a hungry expression on his face. A few seconds later, he said.
"And these legs." and he put his hand on my thigh.
I felt a bolt of electricity surge through my body at his touch. And I felt confused. No other man's touch had ever produced this kind of a reaction from me. I sat there dumbstruck as he gently rubbed my thigh.
"You're a gorgeous little thing that could set the ramp on fire. All these Indian super-models have nothing on you." Nigel said in a husky voice.
That's when we both noticed my sister walking out of the bathroom. He took his hand off my leg and said,
"If you want to discuss this further without big sister snooping around, I am staying at the Palm Resort. Come by tomorrow. Just ask for Nigel at the reception."
I sat there stunned at the pass that had been made at me. My sister sat down and asked what the old Brit wanted. Nothing, I said. He was just saying hi. We got back to the cabin. And I had trouble sleeping. I kept replaying in my mind the moments when he was staring at my breasts and when he had rubbed my thigh. I was taken in by his confidence, something that was lacking in boys my age.
I found myself fantasizing about him. I imaged him fucking me on the beach as the waves washed over us. I imagined him putting his dick in my mouth and making me suck it. The fantasies made me cum hard in bed, and I had to struggle to not make any noise with my sister sleeping on the next bed.
The next morning I stood outside his cabin door in the Palm Resort, unsure about whether I was doing the right thing. I had feigned a headache when my parents woke me up for our planned day-long cruise and convinced them to leave me in the hotel. An hour after my family left for the cruise, I headed over to the Palm Resort.
I finally knocked on the door and Nigel answered it after a couple of minutes. He only had a towel wrapped around his waist, and the sight of his taut hairy chest made my heart skip a beat. he invited me in and rushed to the other room to get dressed. He came out a minute later, wearing only beach shorts. I guess he had seen my taking an admiring look at his chest, so had chosen to remain shirtless.
"So." Nigel said sitting down so close to me that our thighs touched. "You are interested in modelling after all? But your conservative Indian family won't let you try it?"
"Well." I said looking into his deep blue eyes. "My parents are cool with anything I choose. if I decide to get into modelling, they'll support me."
"But I am not interested in modelling." I said.
"You're not?" he asked, confused.
"Why are you here then?" he asked.
I just shrugged. He smiled. Then he confidently put his hand on my thigh and started rubbing it. Like the previous night, I felt excitement surge through my body. When he saw no resistance from me, he bent over and kissed me on my lips. I felt his grey stubble prick my soft cheeks and it actually felt nice. I kissed him back enthusiastically. he was a better kisser than my previous boyfriends, and we continued to make out for a few minutes, during which he started mauling my tits.
Nigel then took my hand and put it on his shorts. I could feel the erection under there. I started rubbing it. He took it out of the shorts and I got my first look at a white man's circumcised dick. I played with it with my hands for a while, getting it completely hard. Then Nigel forced my head down into his lap, making me take his dick into my mouth. I noted how confident and assertive he was, compared to my other boyfriends who had been very tentative and clumsy. Nigel was clearly very experienced at this and his assured adeptness was turning me on.
"Use your tongue. Swirl it around my dick." Nigel said. "Good, now wrap your lips tight and move your head gently."
For the next ten minutes, Nigel gave me a detailed lesson on blowjob technique. I must have been a quick learner, because soon after that, I felt his dick shiver in my mouth and he started cumming. This was a new feeling for me. I had sucked the other guys' dicks before, but they had never cum in my mouth. I tasted the unfamiliar bitter semen as it filled up my mouth.
"Swallow it!" Nigel said in a commanding voice, and I did.
A few moments later, I was naked from the waist down, my legs spread with Nigel's head between them. He was doing simply the most wonderful things to my clit with his tongue. This was the first time someone had gone down on me and I was loving it. I had my first orgasm in just a few minutes of his tongueplay, and the second was approaching when....
The door opened, and in walked an old lady, about Nigel's age. Her mouth fell open as she surveyed the sight in front of her - me, naked from the waist down with my long legs spread out, and a naked Nigel with his tongue lapping at my clit.
"For fuck's sake, Nigel!" the lady yelled. "Who's this? Some Goan whore?"
"Edith, I can explain." Nigel jumped up and pulled his shorts on.
I reached for my shorts and panties and was about to put them on when 'Edith' rushed towards me and grabbed me by the ear.
"Your dirty tramp!" she screeched as she pulled me off the couch, still naked from the waist down, with my clothes in my hand. "Get out of here,"
She dragged me to the cabin door and pushed me out. I stumbled and fell on the porch.
"If i see you around here again, i'll cut those tits off!" she yelled and slammed the door shut.
I got to my feet and noticed that a waiter was standing a few feet away, staring at my naked ass. I hurriedly put my shorts back on, and ran back to our cabin.
That was the episode that first piqued my interest in older - much much older men. I started wondering if all older men had the kind of confidence and expertise that Nigel had displayed during our short fling. But I didn't really have too many opportunities to explore this new hobby of mine. Even a short dalliance with an unknown foreigner in Goa had ended disastrously. What hope did normal life back in Bombay offer?
I got into the best engineering college in Bombay, and as one of the few good looking girls in class, got hit on a lot. But again, the guys just seemed too immature. I had my eyes on a couple of dishy looking older professors. Even flirted with a couple of them during office hours. But they were either very straight-laced or too intimidated by my appearance. No one ever made a move.
Through 4 years of college and then 2 years of MBA, I dated a handful of guys. The sex did get better. Twenty-somethings are bound to be more skilled at sex than teenagers. But still, I kept fantasizing about older men. A lot of the older men I met - from professors to shopkeepers to neighbors, featured in my fantasies as I slept with guys my own age. But an opportunity to act on it never arose. They were all married, and I was mindful of how the Nigel episode had turned out.
After my MBA I got a job in a prestigious bank. The guy I was sleeping with at that time was getting annoyingly serious about or relationship. He was good in the sack, but I found him too shallow to really make a life with. So I ended it and prepared for a career in banking.
When I walked into the conference room for inductee training, most of my fellow newbies were already there. I scanned the room and noticed a handsome older man, maybe 40 or so, staring at me. His gaze was obviously on my bosom, which had now grown to 34DD and even formalwear couldn't hide. I looked into his eyes and smiled. He smiled back sheepishly and then looked away. He spoke to us later about his division. His name was Pavan, and I heard later that he was one of the hot-shot fast track executives in the bank. Youngest Vice President in the bank's short history. And, I later learned, single!
Pavan was everything I would want in a guy - he was older, with some gray hair beginning to appear at the edge of his temples. He was tall and handsome, very fit for his age. And he had a charming personality. After training, when we were offered a choice, I opted for Pavan's division. I was really looking forward to getting to know him. And I saw it as a great opportunity to live out my fucked-by-the-boss fantasies.
I had heard of Pavan's reputation as a bit of a playboy, so was expecting him to hit on me soon enough. But he kept it strictly professional. Even more annoying was the fact that almost every other single guy in the division seemed to be hitting on me, and I had to spend a lot of time fending off their advances politely. After a few days, I decided to send stronger signals.
During our conversations, I would drop a compliment about how yummy he looked. If he returned the compliment, I would blush a little too much. I asked him about things outside of work. I was glad to know that his taste in books and movies was refined, and there was a lot for us to talk about. I even gave him a lot of the textbook signals - adjusting my hair, making eye-contact, touching him gently on the arm, and so on. When there was no response from his end, I wondered if he simply was not that into me.
And then finally, he asked me out. Things moved rapidly after that. Pavan certainly was quite the charmer. And he was quite good in bed. His dick was decent sized, in fact slightly bigger than most other guys I had been with. But more importantly, he knew how to use it. Sex with him was heavenly. And I started feeling truly satisfied in bed, for the first time in my life. Even other than sex, things were going great. When he proposed, I had no hesitation in saying yes. And we got married.
A few months later I was pregnant. I was really excited about having a baby. I had opted for higher studies mainly to keep my parents happy. But somewhere down the line, I had realized that what really interested me was not boardroom battles or promotions, but being a mother. I had spoken to Pavan about this very often, and he had no problems when i decided to quit my job and stay at home to raise our son Chintu full time.
Chintu's birth and my decision to quit my job were watershed moments in more ways than one. Having spent most of my waking hours studying or working until then, I found the luxury of the free time liberating as well as disconcerting. Until Chintu turned one, I had little free time of course. Taking care of him was a full time job. But as time went by, I found myself wondering about what to do with my free time. Pavan had started working longer hours, so I turned to my friends from engineering college and MBA days.
Most of my friends were male. For some reason, other than my sister, I found it difficult to get along with other women. And guys were very comfortable making friends with me too. The reason, one of my friends theorized, was that since I was so pretty, tall and intelligent, most guys assumed I was out of their league. Once the possibility of romance or sex was out of the way, guys found it easier to treat me like "one of the guys". Besides, my interests in sports, action movies, and cars gelled well with the guys. So I had always been "one of the guys" for them. And since I was more interested in older men than my contemporaries, I also found it easier to view them platonically.
Initially, Pavan was okay with most of my close friends being guys. But as time went by, it started to rankle him. he started making sarcastic comments about some of my closest friendships with guys. Occasionally there was a hint of an accusation. he first few times this happened, i just ignored it, putting it down to stress from work. But then as Pavan's complaints about my friends grew, I started wondering what the exact problem was.
I wondered if it had something to do with our sex life. Pavan was 40 when we got married, so with each passing year, his age was catching up with him. he still worked out and kept fit, but I noticed that the frequency with which we had sex started diminishing. I wondered if it had to do with me. I wasn't as svelte and slim as I was before marriage. But I still had maintained a flat stomach, and the extra weight I had put on after getting pregnant was spread out. I went from a 26 waist to a 28 waist, and a round but perky 34 butt to a round and voluptuous 38 butt. I was sure I still looked good enough. So I was reasonably confident that my looks had nothing to do with our sex frequency dropping down to once or twice a week.
The frequency of the arguments over my male friends however, kept growing. And it truly baffled me, because if I had been attracted to any of them, I would've slept with them long before Pavan even came into my life. Most of my friends were married, and I was friendly with their wives as well. If the wives didn't feel threatened by my friendship with their husbands, why did my husband?
A few years passed by and I had come to accept Pavan's grumbles about my friends as a part of life. My conscience was clean. I had never even come close to cheating on him, so as far as I was concerned, it was just paranoia brought on by the insecurity of his declining sexual prowess. Occasionally, I considered suggesting that he see a doctor about erectile dysfunction. But I knew how touchy Pavan was about that. Whenever he was unable to get it up, he would get very defensive and surly, sometimes blaming me for "coming on too strong". So the sex in our marriage wasn't great, but with a precocious little boy to attend to, it stopped being a concern. I had more or less settled into the life of a regular housewife.