Indian wife’s old lover the milkman returns, with friends

Vidya’s old lover Ramu returns, with friends — Rajesh.. The world can be so small. If you are not careful, who you can hurt today can easily come back to hurt you tomorrow. I was reminded of this fact personally over the last few months. I guess I better start at the beginning.

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“I don’t like that man.” My wife Vidya told me as we entered our gated community.

I turned to look back at the guard she was pointing out to me.

Vidya and I had just returned from a walk. The complex where we had our house, in the outskirts of Pune, was next to a small ravine with a small river below. There was a big sandy area on the banks of that river, which was popular with many of my neighbours. It was busy on the weekends, but during the work week it was hardly occupied. I had a day off, so Vidya packed a picnic lunch and we had an enjoyable couple of hours enjoying each other’s company. We held hands, stole kisses, and had a great time. However, since the ravine was outside the gated community, we had to exit our complex whenever we visited, and then reenter on the way back. One of the gates was closer to our villa, so we always used that.

“It’s a new guard, right?” I remarked, as we walked back to our place. “What’s his name … Wasim?”

“Yes, that’s him.” Vidya made a face. “I don’t like him at all.”

Now this was surprising in itself. Vidya was always a very jolly woman, and someone who got along well with anyone. Especially guys, who were always extra nice to her. For obvious reasons.

“Oh.” I tried to think why she could have an issue with this new guard. Wasim had been polite as we had entered. He had stood up when we had touched our key card to the gate, and greeted us with a nod as we entered after the gate opened.

“There’s something about him.” Vidya was on a rant. “It’s his attitude. So disrespectful!”

“Why? What did he do?” I asked. “He seemed fine to me.”

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As soon as I said it, I regretted it. You never disagree with your wife, especially when she’s bitching about someone else!

“Of course he would seem FINE TO YOU.” Vidya turned and hissed at me in anger. “Why do I even bother talking to you?”

“I am sorry, darling.” I tried to meekly apologize. “Please tell me what happened.”

However, Vidya was in a huff. And once she got into one of those moods, I knew I was in trouble. So immediately I started to apologize, grovel and plead with her to forgive me. And of course, it took a lot of apologizing, groveling and pleading before she relented.

“It’s his arrogance.” Vidya said, once we were in the house and relaxed in front of the TV. “Every other guard stands up and salutes me, or says ‘Hi, ma’am. How are you? Lovely day today’ or something like that. And what does Wasim do? He merely sits there, looking at me when I come in. Sometimes, only when I am with you, he nods an acknowledgement.”

“I see.” I replied, not really seeing it. The less these lower class people interacted with me, the better, I thought. This time though, I kept my opinion to myself.

“And then, the other day,” Vidya continued, “When you were at work, I was going shopping with Prakriti and Laila, he was leering at me. Literally LEERING! I was trying to find my key card in my purse and he was behind me, and I could sense that he was starting at my bum. Prakriti even said so to me later. And when I turned and caught him looking, he had the audacity to say, ‘you are looking lovely today, ma’am’. What cheek!”

“So he only told you, and not your girlfriends?” I asked.

I could see why. Vidya, as I have said many a times before, is not only the best looking wife in our community, but probably one of the best looking women in India. In the words of one of her previous lovers, she is an aasli desi taadka maal. Not the scrawny skin and bones type models that populate the ramp nowadays, but a proper Indian woman with curves, a lovely gaand (ass) and actual big titties to match.

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She kept herself fit through exercising religiously even after our marriage, which is when most Indian women let themselves go. When Vidya would go out with her girlfriends Prakriti and Laila, no one would give those two wives a second look because everyone would be staring at Vidya, my drop dead gorgeous wife — with her raven black hair, her milky white skin, the way she wore her sari exposing her toned tummy and navel, and her voluptuous buttocks swinging to and fro as she walked. Oh, how many times I had let her walk ahead of me, just to see who else was staring at her sashaying buttocks! Sometimes, if we had to take public transit on some rare occasions, many a man had “mistakenly” placed a hand on her voluptuous derriere, only to withdraw after a scorching look from her.

“Yes, only me.” Vidya complained. “It was so humiliating. For my bum to be given the look over by a lowly guard! The guard!”

“I see.” This time I took a venture and agreed with my wife. “That is certainly reprehensible.”

“And that is not all.” Vidya was on fire. “You know I don’t have anything against the lower class folk, right? I mean, I even let Ramu — a milkman — shag me. I even let him cum inside me, without a condom! But this man … Wasim … sometimes when we ladies pass, he makes comments about me to his fellow guards, and he thinks I can’t overhear. But I do. I have very good ears. All lowly comments typical of that class.”

For a moment, I wondered why Vidya was so upset at being leered at by this guard. My buxom wife was used to being catcalled on the streets of India and hardly gave them a second thought.

It must be due to Vidya’s situation with Balachandra, I realized. She is missing him.


He was our neighbour, an older man formerly from the army, now retired. For the last little while, in addition to me, he was also the only other man who was fucking my wife on a regular basis. But it has been two months since his last visit, and I knew Vidya missed that big cock of his. It must be that frustration of not having sex with him that was making her get angry at little incidents, such as the one with this poor guard Wasim.

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Like many of Vidya’s dalliances ever since we had opened our marriage, her fling with Balachandra had been a torrid one. It started roughly eight months ago, when Vidya and I had celebrated the fourth anniversary of our marriage. Around the same time was when Balachandra had gotten her alone and made her his “biwi” for the night. That one night had led to months of them fucking like rabbits almost every day, until Balachandra had to move to New Delhi. He still owned his house in our neighborhood, but he had now rented it out to a young couple — some relatives of his. Balachandra did visit our city once or twice a month, during which time he stayed with them, and on those visits he would come to my house when I was at work and proceed to reacquaint himself with my lovely wife’s charms.

I would come home to find my wife passed out on the couch, bite marks all over her neck and breasts, and her pussy all sore from the pounding it had received.

Vidya would kiss me on my return from work, and mockingly say she was kissing me like the cuck I was. Her loving smooch would put me in my place as she would swirl her tongue in my mouth. I would be gently reminded of the fact that this same tongue of hers had given her lover pleasure all day. The same tongue that has licked another man’s cock to hardness was now inside my mouth. And how I loved her for all of that.

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