I am 36 years old, married for 18 years now.
I have a 16-year-old daughter. My husband is a 44-year-old General Manager in a private firm in Kolkata. I too work in a bank just to pass time, as I do not like to stay at home. Due to regular aerobics at the gym I have a good body. I have a 36C bust, a 28 waist and a perfectly round 36 ass.
My husband says that men stare at my ass anywhere I go. It does make a big curve when viewed sideways. Also the biggest asset I have that distinguishes me from most Indian women is my height. I stand at 5.7". I have dark brown, long hair coming all the way up to my hips, which are always tied up in traditional Indian style. I have a very fair skin making make-up unnecessary for me, though I do put on some lipstick.
The incident I want to narrate happened about a year back.
We had moved to Kolkata only some 6 months back from the firm's Mumbai office. Our house was a good 20-25 minutes from our offices. Being new in the city, my husband always used to send the car along with the driver to drop and receive me from my office. Being an inspection officer my husband used to travel a lot within West Bengal. During those days I used to travel by auto-rickshaw. My daughter, who was 15 then, went to school with her friend in her car. It was Christmas Eve. My daughter, Kiran, had gone to Mumbai to my brother's place as her school was closed. My husband had to go to Shiliguri for an inspection.
So I had to travel by auto-rickshaw. It was around closing time in the office when I got the news that the auto-rickshaw union had gone on a sudden strike. So I enquired about the bus number with a peon and went to the bus stop. Unfortunately for me, my only friend in the office, Radha Sen was on a leave. So I had to travel alone to my house in a bus. Being used to the BEST buses in Mumbai, I found the buses here too dirty and too bad to travel in. I had never travelled by a bus in Kolkata.
As I waited for the bus, I had to leave 5 buses, as they were packed to the hilt. But due to that it was almost 6:00 PM and I was at the bus stop for more than an hour. It was getting dark and cold. So I decided to get into the next bus, no matter what the crowd was. As it turned out, the next bus was really more crowded than a few I had left. There were men hanging off the door. I was the only one to get into the bus. Looking at me the men in the doorway got down to let me in. I saw a few of them checking me out. As I got into the bus with great difficulty I felt a few bodies brush against mine. I accidentally brushed against the crotch of an elderly man standing near the door. As I lost my balance slightly, my hand got caught a bit in his kurta. "What am I doing!" I said to myself, as I mumbled a sorry to the person. As I walked ahead, I felt a few hands brush against my thighs and ass. Luckily for me, a couple of ladies accommodated me between them.
The bus was in a very bad condition. There were only a couple of lights at the two doors, and the bus was running at a snail's pace. The speed at which the bus was running, I knew the usual 20-minute journey would take me 30-35 minutes at least. As I tried to look around in the bus, it seemed as if we were the only three women in the overcrowded bus. As I rested my hip on a seat handle to my right, I accidentally rested on a hand. So I stood upright again and looked down to apologize to the person. As it was getting dark I could not see his face clearly. But the person looked at me in the eye and grinned widely. It was clear that he enjoyed the feel of my ass. Even as I was looking at him, he nudged his partner and whispered something in his ears. The other person too looked at me and then both seemed to look at my breasts under the sari. I tried to turn away slightly, but could not do so.
Just at that time, the woman standing behind me got down at the next stop. The lady in front of me was a young girl of about 20-22. The dress she wore indicated that she was from a lower middle class background. She was at least 3-4 inches shorter than me and very skinny. As I turned around to see who was now standing behind me, it was the same man whom I had brushed accidentally at the door. As the bus ran slowly, I felt a hand on my ass. It was definitely the same guy's wrist on my ass.
"I did it accidentally, so can he", I thought.
But as time passed, the wrist stayed there. Then something pressed against my ass-cheek. I looked back with some difficulty at the same person. He looked back at me plainly as if nothing was going on.
"I'll have to bear this for some time", I said to myself.
But with no further resistance from me, the hand turned around and now his palms were on my ass. Staying that way for some time, the hand started moving slowly all over my ass-cheeks. I gripped the vertical bar firmly, my left hand held my purse tightly. Soon the person had both his hands squeezing and massaging my rear. I looked around with the hope that someone would stop my harassment. But as I looked to my left, one person was asleep and another was wearing the dark glasses worn by blind men. So I presumed that he was blind. As I turned my head right, the two men were still staring at my exposed belly and blouse-covered boobs intently.
Just then, the person who was standing right behind me started tracing my panty with his fingers. This made me close my eyes, as I remembered my husband. This made the two sitting horny men looking at me to see what was happening to me. The little hope I had disappeared when the two men looked at the hands running along my panty-lines, and started giggling.
"God help me!" I screamed in my head.
But deep down I knew I was trapped. I knew most men in the bus would be the same as the ones sitting beside me to my right. So I slowly nudged at the girl standing in front of me. She turned around with some difficulty. I looked at her in the eyes. My eyes were moist looking at her. I turned my eyes pointing towards the man behind me. She got the message I wanted her to know. But to my shock, she turned around and even moved forward slightly, distancing herself from me. I knew she did not want to get involved in this.
As I was wearing a chiffon sari, he could easily grip my panty elastic over my ass cheeks with 3 fingers of each hand. I cursed myself for wearing a bikini panty that day. Because of this, as he pulled my panty elastic upwards, it caused the small fabric to bunch up in my ass-crack. Now I was as good as naked under my petticoat for his hands. He frenetically massaged my bare ass for some time. Just then I almost gasped with shock as the man put his bare hands on my bare waist from both sides. My grip on the handle tightened as his palms started running over my flat belly. Very soon he was circling my belly button.
I kept as much a straight face as possible. My heart skipped a beat when he ran his fingers along the waistline of my sari.
"Please don't do that, the whole sari would come off if he tries to enter my petticoat", I pleaded silently.
Thankfully he too changed his mind. But soon I knew he was headed for the place every Indian man dies for. Very soon his hands were palming my breasts. As he squeezed and mauled my boobs, I felt a third hand on my right thigh. I looked down. To my shock, it was the man sitting on my right. He had his hand running up and down my thigh and the other hand seemed to be moving rhythmically. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I realized it was his erect dick in his hand. Indeed, he and his partner were masturbating looking at me.
Soon the hands on my breasts moved away slightly. But they came back again searching for my nipples over the blouse. As his thumb and first two fingers started pinching my nipples, making them hard and taut. He pinched my nipples so hard that I had to bite my lips to stop from screaming. Tears rolled on my cheeks due to the pain. The bastard tried to outrage me further by trying to slip the sari off my shoulders. But thankfully, I had the sari pinned to my shoulder.
At the same time, the shagging man put his hand below my knee and started to pull up my sari.
"Why didn't I wear a formal dress today" I cursed myself.
Luckily the way I was standing, he could expose my legs only up to my knees. But my happiness was short lived, as I did not realize that although he could not pull up my sari, his hands definitely could. The man behind me grabbed me by my waist and pulled me back.
This made me lose my balance as I lost the grip of the handle I was holding. As my entire weight fell on him, I felt his erection on my ass. He seemed really hard. He was about the same height as me. He now smelled my hair with deep breaths. He caught my long hair and swung it forward.
By now the sitting person had his hand under the sari on my bare inner thigh. His hand moved upwards, reaching centimeters from my crotch. He stuck up his middle finger and brushed my slit over the panty. This made me weak in my knees and I also lost my grip on my purse, making it fall to the floor. He started caressing my cunt over the panty. He even tugged my underwear into my cunt, moving his finger around slightly.
My body started to respond to his touch, as my cunt stared to get wet. But then the hand withdrew.
The hand then caught hold of my hand. So I looked to find what he wanted from my hand. My fingers were now touching his swollen cock head, as his other hand frantically shagged it. Before I could realize what was happening, he released his load on my fingers. He then guided my hand to my face. He wanted me to lick it. But I turned away, making him wipe his sticky semen on my cheeks. I tried to wipe it with my shoulders.
At this time, I was a couple of stops away from my house. So I decided to get out of this by getting down a stop early and walk home from there. So I shrugged off the two men and rushed to the back door, and got down on the next stop. It was 10 minutes' walk to my house from there. But the sight of the Ticket Checker (TC) greeted me. The sight of this man reminded me that I forgot to pick up my purse in the bus and my ticket was in my purse.
"Where is your ticket madam?" he asked in Bengali.
I replied in English saying I lost it in the bus.
Even as he was listening, his eyes were traveling all over my body. I read his name batch. It had Mr. R.A.Singh written on it. I asked him whether he spoke any Hindi. As he nodded I explained it to him that it was due to the heavy rush, but he did not take my reason and asked why then did I get down one stop early. This question left me silent. He asked me for the fine. I reminded him that I did not have the purse and offered to pay him taking him to the house, which was only 10 minutes away.
He thought for some time, and looked at his watch. It was about 6:45 p.m. and was totally dark and really cold. He said he couldn't do that and would have to take me to the nearby police station, and that someone from the house had to come and pay for me. But I explained to him that I was alone at my house and also new in the city and so did not know too many people too well. He got lost in thought for some time. Then he looked at me and said then I would have to stay in the lock-up till someone paid for me.
I pleaded him to come to my house and collect the fine. He thought for some time, looked around sneakily and then agreed to my offer. He called a guy from the driver's cabin and him to do the job and said that he will meet them in the depot after collecting the fine. So we started to walk. In the way we had to pass through a long lane that had a land under dispute on one side and the backside of a big college campus on the other. This road was a parallel road to a main road and so was only used by a few private cars.
We were walking side by side. I kept thinking about the money I lost in the purse and also that the perverts had my identity card. As I kept walking thinking about the incident, I saw with the corner of my eye that the TC was glancing at me lustfully. This made my heart beat very fast. Also the road was lonely. Seeing no car in the lane, he grabbed my hand and said –
"I'll give you an offer. Let's go to the station or you do as I say. I don't want to waste my energy in fighting you. It's your choice baby."
I looked at the time. It was 7:00 p.m.
"There will be many people around the building", I thought, "watching me with this man, they will ask me awkward questions. What if the cops drop me in their car? They may even talk things".
"Come on bitch, I cannot wait forever", he said harshly, bringing me out of my thoughts.
I looked ahead and behind on the road. There wasn't a soul present. I looked down to the ground and nodded shyly. He immediately grabbed me and started walking briskly.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked.
He seemed to ignore me and continued to walk. As we reached a small opening in the wall of the empty plot, he pointed me to enter the dark plot. As I was entering the narrow opening, I felt his hands on my ass. Once inside the plot, I looked around. It was totally empty, with about 2 feet of grass covering. There were no lights inside the plot. The only light was that from the streetlights. The plot was fairly large. About 200 meters long and more than 300-400 meters deep from the street.
He pulled me towards the centre of the plot, and then left my hand. As I rubbed my hand to relieve the soreness, he removed his own shirt and vest. He had a really hairy chest.
"I don't want to hear a single word from you. Do you understand?" he said.
I nodded. He signalled me to get down on my knees in front of him. So I positioned myself inches from his zipper. He then proceeded to slip down his trousers. He wore the traditional Indian underwear. His dick was really standing in the loose underwear. He untied the knot of the thread and let it drop to his ankles. He was not really long. Maybe 6 inches. He caught my hair and pulled my head towards it. So I opened my mouth and let it enter my oral cavity. As he kept running his hand through my long tied up hair, I kept sucking on his tool, holding it at the base with my hands. I was feeling really cold. When he put his hand on my shoulder, he found the safety pin holding onto my chiffon sari. He removed it promptly.
After about 5 minutes of sucking, he stopped me. He took me to a corner of the plot. He was only in his shoes and socks. I was carrying his clothes. As we reached a corner, he pushed me to the wall. Then he pulled off my sari from my shoulders. My blouse always has a tantalizing neckline, ending just at the start of my cleavage (this is the way my husband likes it).
He looked really desperate. He stared at my breasts for some time, as they heaved up and down due to my heavy breathing. He suddenly put three fingers of each hand on the blouse and ripped it open. I always wore black bras. He pulled my blouse down to my elbows. This caused my hands to be restricted in their movement. He launched himself on my boobs, squeezing and cupping them wildly. He especially liked to push my boobs inwards and then lick my cleavage. He even bit my nipples over the bra. For a moment he moved back and then put his hands inside my bra-cups and scooped the tits out, pushing the bra sideways.
Thus now, my boobs were exposed to him, though the bra straps were in the same place. He again launched his mouth on my tits, making them wet with his saliva. As he continued his mauling of my breasts, I looked towards the street to see another crowded bus pass by. His face blocked my sight, as he stopped his sucking. He smiled, and then smooched my lips roughly. He forcefully opened my lips with his tongue and rolled it all around. I'm sure he tasted himself inside my mouth.
At the same time, his hands roamed down to my stomach and then to my waistline. He inserted two fingers into my petticoat and undid the knot holding it onto my waist. As he released the knot, my sari and petticoat dropped in a heap to the ground. He then asked me to lie down on the grass. I was feeling really cold on the wet grass. He saw my shivering body and said- "You need my heat".
Then he positioned between my spread legs. He simply pulled the panty away from my cunt lips and dug his cock into my body.
This was the first time; I had another penis inside me; other than my husband's. This made me really sad and I started to weep. This almost seemed to excite him, as his pumping increased speed. He let out a loud grunt as his semen released into my cunt. I did not experience any climax.
As I lay on the grass exhausted, he dressed up and said-
"How was it babe? Want to meet again sometime?"
I stared back at him blankly. This angered him. He called me a whore and left in a hurry. I looked at my watch. As it was dark, I could not make out the exact time. But it was somewhere around 7:30 p.m. I got up and adjusted my panty. It was thoroughly wet with my and his juices. Then I tucked my breasts back into the bra. I looked around to make sure that no one was around. Then I got into my petticoat and draped my sari. But all except one hook of the blouse were broken. So I carefully adjusted the sari covering up carefully.
I walked the distance to my house in 15 minutes. As expected the building was busting with activity as every evening. I walked up the stairs to the third floor apartment, keeping a really straight face and even greeting anyone I met. As soon as I closed the house door I dropped on the couch and started weeping, digging my face into the pillow.
"What am I going to do now? What if the person from the bus finds me? What if the TC blackmails me? Should I talk to my husband about this? He won't trust me anymore. What if my daughter comes to know about it? She will think I'm a slut."
These were the thoughts in my mind as I walked up to my bedroom and entered the bathroom. I removed my clothes and stood under the hot shower. I kept weeping as I rubbed my body vigorously with soap, cleaning every part of my body touched by various men. And then I washed my panty vigorously even as the tears kept rolling down my cheeks.
After I turned off the shower, I looked at myself in the mirror and composed myself. Then I wiped myself with the towel and came out to the bedroom with the towel wrapped around my body.
The good part about our bedroom is it has long sliding windows on two sides, one overlooking the garden behind our building and the other facing the bedroom of our neighbours. This gives a feeling of openness to the room. Also we have tinted glass put up on all the windows, ensuring our privacy. I walked up to my cupboard and took out my clothes and threw them on the bed. As I was about to remove my towel, I saw a figure sitting at the opposite window. I recognized it to be Mr. Patel, our 65-year-old neighbour. He could, may be see the outline of my body even through the tinted glass as the lights were on. So I reached out for the switchboard and switched off the light. This came as no surprise to me. I had seen him staring at our window many times before. In the darkness, I threw my towel on the bed and wore my clothes, thinking of how many times I had told my husband about the bastard. But my husband never believed how such a respected resident could do such a thing.
Mr. Patel was a retired police officer and now worked as a social worker, especially fighting for women's rights. He lived in the house alone after his wife died and daughter got married. I too knew that nobody would believe me if I said that he was a voyeur and a peeping tom. I had no option but to ignore him. I wore a simple white cotton panty (I wore the bikini panties outside only on my husband's insistence, though I felt really comfortable in these). Over it I wore a white loose slip with thin shoulder straps and came up to my upper thighs (I never wore bras at home). And finally wore a long white housecoat tying up the waistband.
It was almost 8:00 p.m. so I decided to cook myself a small meal and watch some TV. But just then the doorbell rang. I was a bit surprised, as I was not expecting anyone. I was really surprised to find my husband standing at the door. He immediately hugged me and gave me a small kiss on the lips, and then explained how he arrived earlier than expected. As I was making tea for him, he hugged me from behind and squeezed my breasts. He ran his hands through my wet hair and turned around my face and smooched me passionately, with his hands running down to my waistband.
I knew he was really horny. He did not have sex for 3 days now. When at home he fucked me every single night. He undid the waistband and opened the robe. His hand palmed my crotch as he continued to kiss my neck. Soon he had his hand inside my slip, pinching my nipples. He then made me sit on the kitchen platform and pulled out my panty. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he pulled out his erect tool and entered me. In less than a minute, he erupted in me and I too let out a loud grunt, faking an orgasm. Immediately he withdrew and said the lovely words, "get me the tea quickly."
At this point let me describe to you my husband. He is as you can say a typical Indian male. He really cares for me and is very understanding in all matters but sex. He believes that a wife must do whatever a husband wants in bed. When my in-laws were alive, they too held the same belief. During the first year of our marriage, my husband used to fuck me at least twice daily. It would be really embarrassing for me when he would call me up to the bedroom in the middle of the day and have sex with me, even as his parents sat in the other room knowing what transpired in our room.
Even after 20 years of marriage, he still is the same. When I confronted him with my inability to reach an orgasm regularly, he got angry and said that I was trying to blame on him for my inability to get excited and asked me to masturbate whenever I did not climax. Since that day I have been doing the same. He rolls over to sleep immediately after sex. It is then that I go to the bathroom and rub myself. Also he likes to consider me like a showpiece, which he takes along to parties. He has a personally selected collection of clothes for me to be worn at such parties. His attitude at such cocktail parties is: "I have the thing you all want".
I do not like this but have to bear it. Coming back, after he left the kitchen, I wore my panty and adjusted the slip, tucking in my tits and then served him tea. He sat on the couch watched the news when his cell phone rang. It was his boss on the line. After talking to him my husband said-
"Come on honey, boss has invited us to the party he has at his house. We must go."
He took a quick bath and got dressed. As it was a ritual, I had to strip fully. Then he selected my undergarments and all my clothes. Today
he made me wear a red bikini panty. Then he made me wear a black petticoat, under the navel. Then I wore a black short-sleeved blouse having just two strings at the back, which meant no bra. The neckline was really round and low. The tight blouse always made my breasts push sideways. Then I wore a black silk sari in with the pallu coming from behind to front. I left my long straight hair open and put on bright red lipstick. No make up for me. He personally sprayed perfume on my belly, armpits and even on my cleavage.
I knew I looked like a sex object in the dress. I was happy that my daughter wasn't around. I felt really embarrassed wearing such dresses to public parties. I have never been able to talk to her about it, but my husband always says that you will understand when you grow up line to her quizzical looks when she saw me dressed sexily, going to late night parties. But I think now she has grown up and understands her father. Then I wore his favourite 3-inch high-heeled silver sandals and soon we were in the car.
To be concluded.