"Oh god, SUMITA! What have you done you filthy little whore?" I grunted, my dick in my hand, as my eyes jumped back and forth between the words on the computer screen and the naughty picture of my Bengali wife that rested beside it. I focused on the photo for a moment as I stroked. I never got tired of looking at it. My wife, absent of clothes kneeling forward on the bed with that dirty look on her face, biting down on her bottom lip. Her full, golden breasts were dangling beneath her and the crack of her tight Bengali ass was visible just above her head.

It was the only dirty picture SUMITA had ever allowed me to take of her, thank god for Tequila! I remembered how I used to hate that she drank so much. She was such an angry, demanding bitch when she was drunk. After the night that picture was taken, I'd wished she drank more often. My eyes returned to the screen and I read on. "Oh SUMITA. Oh fuck. You dirty bitch! You can't even control yourself, can you? You need that cock! Fucking slut! Nasty slut! Dirty slut!" I rambled on incoherently as I took in the fictional account about some poor bastards cheating wife, soon bringing my cock to an eruption that landed all over my chest. In that way, as I always did, I imagined that my wife was the slutty central character in the story I was reading. Finding that dirty porn site had taken my rituals of fantasizing in an entirely new direction.

My mind always became clear in the moments after I expelled my nut. Most of the time it was clouded by fantasy. I often had a hard time focusing on real life matters because of my obsession with the fantasy world that existed in my head. This was my release, and I welcomed the short-term clarity I got when I wasn't consumed by thoughts of sex. But that clarity also came with feelings of shame and guilt. What kind of man was I to think of my wife as a cock hungry slut? In fact I felt down right pathetic afterwards, not only for my outrageous fantasies, but also for the way I vicariously lived them out via the Internet, an erotic picture of my wife, and a bottle of Jergens lotion. As much as I obsessed over the idea of SUMITA fucking other men, in those moments of clarity I knew that I'd never have the courage to broach the subject with her, nor the courage to risk losing her to another man.

In my heart of hearts, I knew that was a good thing. The fantasy would have to remain exactly that, for my own good, and the good of my marriage. . "Hey sona," SUMITA said plainly as she walked through the door at 9pm that night. "Hey sexy," I smiled at her, feeling my cock twitch. SUMITA got off work at five. When she came home late, it usually meant she'd stopped at the bar on her way home and had a few with her co-workers. But I knew right away she hadn't that night because if she'd been drinking she wouldn't have called me by that affectionate nickname. "Sexy? Not even," My wife modestly blew off my compliment. "Yeah, Sona, you're always sexy," I said, getting up from my seat to give her a welcome home kiss. "Oh no, don't you even start that with me!" SUMITA wiggled away from me, giggling, "I know what you want!" "Awww, come on! You know I'm always horny for you when you get home!" I followed her, grabbing her butt before she could escape.

"No! Stop!" She slapped my hand away with a smile on her face. I relented for a moment, letting her take off of her shoes and put away her laptop. I knew eventually I'd get what I wanted. SUMITA tended to make initiating sex with her a chore. I never saw it as her not wanting to, I just thought she liked to make me pursue her. "You're home late," I noted, waiting for an answer. "Oh, you know, we went to Bennigans after work." "Yeah?" I said, puzzled, "You don't seem like you've been drinking." "I only had one. I've got kind of a headache today," SUMITA shrugged. "I hope you're not going to use the headache excuse again," I said, wrapping my arms around her waist from behind, grinding the erection in my pants against her butt. SUMITA gripped my hands and pried them off of her. "Stop it now, seriously. All you wanna do is screw, screw, screw when I get home. Go watch sports or something," SUMITA said in a more serious tone as she walked into the kitchen. "Most women complain that their men pay too much attention to sports and not enough of it to them," I noted. "Well I certainly don't have that problem, do I," SUMITA said coldly as she poured herself a glass of water.

I frowned. SUMITA was being more of a cold fish than usual. I decided to change my tactics. "Pleeeeease?" I sank to my knees and pulled her into me by her hips. SUMITA rolled her eyes, "Will you stop?" "I can't help it Sona," I said, unbuttoning the front of her suit jacket, "I just want to make love to my beautiful, hot, sexy wife." I pulled up the blouse under her jacket and began kissing her stomach. "Pleeeeeease?" I begged a little more. Finally she cracked a smile. "Awwww, you're so cute when you beg. You should do it more often." I grabbed the waist of her suit pants and attempted to undo the button, but she pushed my hands away and turned her back on me. "Come on, SUMITA! What gives!" I whined. "I just don't want to, ok? What do you think anyway, I'm going to let you do it to me right here in the kitchen?" Now it was me rolling my eyes. I wanted to fuck her all over the house, but SUMITA always insisted on going to the bedroom. I peeled my shirt off and dropped it on the floor, then undid my pants and dropped them to the floor along with my boxers. "Yes, I want to fuck you right here in the kitchen," I spun her around and pushed her back against the counter. Her eyes got big as she saw that I was naked. "I want to fuck my wife, and I want to fuck her now!" "But..." "Munni!" I stated her Bengali nick name firmly.

"Ok. Ok. But in the bedroom," SUMITA bowed her head and slid out of my grasp, heading for our bedroom. I smiled, seeing my wife's submissive nature kick in. When all else failed, I knew all it took was demanding sex, rather than asking for it. I usually tried to avoid that tactic for two reasons, the first being that I wasn't the domineering type to begin with. I much preferred to feel like she wanted it as much as I did. And secondly, her enthusiasm for sex when I had to force it was minimal. But I'd settle for what I could get. SUMITA stepped into the bedroom and methodically removed her clothes while I sat on the old, squeaky, queen-sized bed. She was mechanical in doing so, not trying to be sexy at all. Whether she tried to be or not, I always thought she was sexy. At twenty-nine years old with 2 kids from her first marriage, her body was a little thicker than when we'd first met, but still nice and firm. She stripped down to her panties and bra and slid under the sheets before removing her panties.

I scooted closer to her and began kissing her sweet smelling neck as I slid my hand down to her hairy pussy. As my lips threatened to invade her cleavage she pulled me back up to her neck. "They're sensitive today," she said plainly. That was always the excuse when she didn't want me to touch her boobs, which was often. "I guess I'll have to find something else to do with my lips then," I said, giving her a soft kiss on her lips before sinking below the sheets on my way to her muff. Again she stopped me, grabbing my shoulder and giving me a tug. "You can just put it in me. I don't need that today." "But you're dry," I pouted, disappointed with all the rules she was throwing in my way. "It's ok," she said, putting her hand on top of mine and pushing my fingers inside of her. "Oh, wow," I said, surprised. She was as wet as I'd ever felt her once my fingers were inside. I climbed on top of her and worked my hard dick inside of her. She laid there silently as I began to slowly pump her. "You like this don't you? Damn you're so wet tonight Sona," I sported a cocky smile on my face. SUMITA stayed quiet, turning her head to the side.

I was used to her lack of interaction during sex, so as always, I found a way to make it more fun for myself. I became somebody else. Some of my friends who were bored with their prude wives liked to close their eyes and picture another woman under them as they hammered away. But I liked to pretend that it was me, not her, that was another person. I was another man who was thrusting inside of my wife's pussy. Where's your husband, slut? I bet he doesn't fuck you like this! You like having another man's cock in your pussy? I bet you do! I kept all of these thoughts to myself, only vocalizing them in my mind. I was ready to cum quickly, as the idea of her lying there under another man excited me so much that I could hardly contain myself. But she put her hands on my chest and stopped my thrusting before I could. "Do you want to try doing that thing again?" she said, shyly. "What thing?" I searched my brain. "Don't make me say it," she quickly turned her head away from me, too embarrassed to look me in the face. "The other night...after I came home from Bennigans." "Ohhh!" I got excited. "Really?" She shrugged. "I mean, if you want to. I don't care, I guess." "Um...yeah, if it's ok?" She pushed up against my chest. "Let me turn." I eased off of her and let her flip around onto her stomach.

She buried her face in the pillow. I'd had to get very drunk one night while out with my friends to find the balls to touch the topic of talking dirty during sex with her. I bitched about how she barely moaned and never said anything when we made love. I'd been forceful that night, I pushed for it and she let me get away with a few mild comments; "You're bad girl" and "Who's your dady", I didn't go too far with it. She'd insisted on lying on her stomach and having me screw her in the lazy dog position so she didn't have to look at me when I said those things. The next day she'd gotten mad and outright refused to let me ever do it again. In fact, she cut me off from her pussy for a week. But a few weeks later she'd come home half in the bag after work and nonchalantly asked for it again.