My name is Trevor Stevens. I'm a white man from Florida, 46, 6'3, well-built, short brown hair. I recently got married to an Indian woman named Priya. How we met and what happened in between are all very, very interesting tales.
I was invited by one of my employees, Rajesh, He and his family had moved from India just a year back. He's a pretty unremarkable man, a guy that can rub you the wrong way with his crooked look. I don't judge people by looks, so I wanted to get to know him. Though I quickly found out what kind of man he was, when he told me details of his family during the drive.
"Excuse my son, he's a bit stupid. My wife is more fat these days, I don't hope you mind eating with her."
Asshole was my first reaction, yet I bit my tongue. We got to the house, I got out the car and we walked to the house.
"If you don't like the food, I can always make her cook anything you want."
"No need," I said with a gritted smile.
I walked in and was amazed at the quality of his home. Two story house, excellent décor, plush carpeting, amazing entertainment set-up, looked like a home made for a king, yet it was occupied by a clown.
I saw his wife walk up to her husband. Immediately I was blown away by her. She was 5'8, taller than her husband, looked to be in her mid-thirties, had long black hair, a curvaceous build, tasty mocha brown skin, a beautiful face, juicy lips, large breasts and a juicy ass. The exact type of body we in the west have learned to covet, the J.Lo, Beyonce type-body we want our women to have, something to hold on to, a beautiful woman made for sexual pleasure. She was wearing a form-fitting shiny blue Indian dress.
I wanted to put him to his knees and make him eat his words: how dare he label her, such a sexy women, as "fat." I knew right away that he was probably too small to handle a real woman like her.
I approached her, put my hand out, she shook it with her delicate brown hands, I leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. She was surprised by my candour.
"Hello, my name is Trevor."
"I'm Priya," she said in her Indian accent.
She looked at me with a coy expression.
I knew where I wanted her at the end of that night, I knew right away then what was going to happen: at the end of the night she and I would be in the nearest bedroom, having sex. Sounds insane, but I just knew I was taking her that night, and he was not going to do a thing about it.
He shouted at her rudely in his language. My resolve grew stronger. Knowing her husband was a total jerk made me even more motivated. The thought of me, a white man, with his beautiful Indian wife in his own bed was something that made me more excited than words can express. The interracial taboo of her culture forthright in my mind, knowing this would break so many of her cultural taboos, it made me hard in an instant.
"Your wife is very beautiful."
"Please, no need to be so polite, Sir," he said with a sly smile, as if I were joking with him.
I chose to ignore his existence for the rest of the night. I walked towards the kitchen. I saw her son in the lounge, I gave him a polite wave, he responded back.
I approached Priya in the kitchen, standing right beside her as she stirred the oven.
"Looks good."
"Oh thank you, I been working on it all day."
"I wasn't talking about the food," I said with a cheeky grin. Nothing better to break the ice than some cheesy interplay.
She giggled shyly, "Oh funny."
"I wasn't joking," I said seriously, "You're gorgeous."
"Please," she said while blushing.
Not wanting to come across too strong right away, I asked a basic question.
"So where you from Priya."
"Mumbai, originally."
"Ah, so when did you marry Rajesh?"
"When I was very young..."
"I see..."
"We met through family, it was all arranged," she said glumly.
"So how you like America, how long you been here?"
"Over a year, we like it a lot. The culture is very different but we adjust."
"Ah yes, more free willing here, I bet?"
"Yes, women dress so much differently."
"Yes that is true...I think that American-style would suit you, Priya."
She blushed again. "Oh please, I don't have the figure."
"Oh you do! You're a real sexy woman, Priya. In the west we really admire a woman with a solid, curvy figure like yourself."
She blushed some more. "Really? My friends say that here, but my husband don't agree."
I moved a step closer. "Excuse me if this is too harsh: your husband is wrong."
"Oh?" I piqued her interest.
"I work with him; I know what kinda man he is. I'm very surprised he has a wife such as yourself, you're far too good for him."
She continued to stir her pot, lowering her voice. "Please you mustn't say that."
I made my move. I put myself right infront of her, swiped aside her shiny scarf, then put my hand on her bare hip.
"I know I'd be proud to have you as my woman."
I knew what she was thinking when she saw that bulge: is this white man bigger than my husband? I can't speak for all white men or Indian men, but in this case: yes, I was -- significantly. I had 9 reasons why she needed to be with me that night, right there in my pants. I made it noticeable: I had my tight pants on. My hard-on was rubbing against her ever-so-gently.
"I, I --"
"Don't answer. Just think...I'll go help your son with the table." I grabbed the near-by plates and left. Leaving her with those thoughts, I knew what the result would be.
I saw her son fixing up the table. I helped him set the plates.
"Hey I'm Trevor, your dad's boss."
"Hello, Sir," he replied polity, also speaking in an accent. He was around 5'6, slim build, light brown skin, black hair.
"So, you like it here in America?"
"Yes Sir. Everything's great, all great, expect for..." he grumbled, then looked over at his dad who was sitting on the couch.
"Too strict?" I asked.
"Yeah, and stupid."
"I'm surprised your mother married someone like him."
"Lots of people say that, all my friends comment on how pretty my mom is. They think she's so good-looking"
"Guess he's the lucky one, huh?"
"Him?" he had a confused expression on his face, "I don't think he has the size for a woman like my mother."
"You should show him more respect though," I said trying to sound politically correct, though fully agreeing with him.
"To him? I'll show respect to a man like you, but never him. He believes in teaching with the belt and shoe, he has no intelligence. He treats me and mom like dirt, he believes following tradition is more important than being a happy family. He's a pathetic father."
I was impressed by her son's attitude. He understood what was going on around him and showed proper respect to me. I was also surprised with how open he was. Knowing he hated his father made it better for me: I knew humbling his father would give her son some satisfaction too.
"Sorry Sir," he said while looking down. "I spoke out of line."
I patted him on the shoulder, "No problem. What's your name?"
"Ravinder."
I smiled at him. I looked at the table and saw there was a chair at the head of the table. That really pissed me off. From where I'm from, all the chairs were lined up together, there was no one lone chair signifying a leader. To show that man a lesson, I pulled up the chair and sat at the head of the table.
"Umm, that's my dad's seat."
"Well I'm the guest and his boss. Don't worry, Son. He won't say a word to me."
He grinned. "Cool, very cool."
"Dinner's ready," shouted Priya.
She walked into the dining area, surprised at where I sat myself. She nodded to me and smiled.
Her husband walked by, not saying a word, and sat to the left of me, his wife to the right, and her son next to her.
She laid out the food, we began to eat. Rajesh tried starting up a conversation.
"So, ahem, Mr. Stevens --"
"This food is delicious, Priya," I deliberately ignored him and set my sights on his wife.
"Oh, thank you."
I put my hand on her leg, giving it a nice, gentle squeeze. I was staking my territory.
She cleared her throat. "So, ahem, Trevor, please tell us about yourself."
"Well I'm forty-six now, actually looking to settle down, yes I'm unmarried. I head an I.T department at work, pretty tough job, I always go home to my little apartment so tired. Oh did I tell you I'm sleeping over?"
Her husband looked shocked; he was going to say something before I but-in.
"Yes, he kindly gave me that offer." I looked at him and gave a slight glare, "That right?"
He looked down and mumbled, "Yes."
Priya nudged closer. "That's wonderful. Please, keep talking about yourself."
"Umm, well, I grew up here. Four brothers, all married. I'm not a fanatic but I like to go to the gym, stay fit."
"Oh I can see that," she said with a giggle.
Well I'm doing well for myself, then."
The family kept eating. I nudged closer to Priya and whispered to her.
"You know, your husband will never ever dare say a word against me. He even try, well, I promise you got me protecting you and your son."
"Thank you," she said gratefully.
After finishing our meal, I stood up and made my boldest move yet.
"I'm so tired, I better get to bed." I put my hand out to Priya, "You coming?"
She looked at me, stunned. Her son had his mouth wide open; he knew the game I was playing and what move I made. Her husband just sat there silent.
"I'm taking the master bedroom since I'm above your husband in status. I feel so wrong about going to bed without having you, the able-bodied woman of the house, as sexy as you are, not in the bed with me. You going to bed with him while I sleep under the same roof? As a man, I can't let that happen, I won't allow that to happen. You need a real man, I need a woman for the night, come on, it feels right."
She looked deep into my eyes, "Umm, umm, yes! Yes I-I agree. Can I go to the bathroom first to get ready?"
I pulled her in closer, my hard-on ripping through my pants.
"You feel proud about this?"
She nodded, "I do, a lot."
I gave her a hefty slap on the ass, "Go on, then, to the bathroom. Get ready for your white knight."
She jogged away to the bathroom. I didn't even take a look at her husband as I walked right out the dining room. Before I did go, I looked over at her son.
"Hey Son, if he does anything to you, let me know, ok?"
"Yes, Sir."
Knowing I, a white man, had taken his Indian mother right in front of him, and just humbled his father as well, made me more pumped up than I had ever been in my entire life. That feeling of interracial conquest was amazing.
Priya finished up in the bathroom then raced into the bedroom. I went inside the bathroom and undertook my sex ritual. I took my dress shirt off, my trousers, everything, laid them out neatly, and stood there naked, pumping myself up. Knowing I was gonna give her 9 inches of white cock, her first real sexual experience, knowing I took the Indian wife and mother to the bedroom by gentle force and was about to have sex with her -- in her husband's bedroom! I was ready.
I walked into the room, naked, setting the tone for the relationship. She too was naked, waiting for me, her clothes and bangles in a discarded heap, putting emphasis on her culturally rebellious act. She stood their smiling, her large breasts on show. She marvelled at me, amazed, seeing a body-type she had never seen before. Shaven, built and most importantly, large. I gave her a look, a look that said, "Take it all. I'm in charge."
I walked over to her, kissed her, getting a taste of those tasty ruby lips. I wanted to kiss those lips as much as I could, before I stretched them out for another purpose. She looked at me, eager, ready. I held her head, pushed it down and got her eye level with my cock. She touched it, held it, amazed at the size, width, shape. She then stuck it in her mouth. From there on, it was all over: she was mine now.
She put her hands on my ass as she sucked on my cock, her cheeks turning red as she took something the size of which she'd never experienced. I stroked her soft black hair as she swallowed, also taking big feels of her sexy breasts. I eased her off my cock; she looked at me with pleading eyes. I lifted her up to the bed, and looked at the woman I knew I would be fucking for a long, long time.
She laid herself out on the bed, I got myself on it too. I asked if she had any condoms, she looked through the drawer for some, she found none in my size. I saw a devilish glint in her eye when she told me this: she knew she was getting something significantly larger than what her husband could ever deliver.
"You mind if I go bare?" I asked.
"Please," she replied, "I want nothing less."
"You think you can take it."
She nodded. "I want it that big."
I opened her legs and marvelled at her untamed Indian vagina. The smell was intoxicating; it was already dripping wet, ready for its first white cock. I readied my cock, held it steady, then one mighty shove and it was in. I leaned down and gave her a kiss on the neck, her face contorting in pleasure. She rubbed my hands all over my back, turned on by the definition. All that time in the gym paid off: it was all to take charge of this Indian woman's life.
It felt so right. Me: the strong white man she always wanted, her: the submissive Indian women that was begging to take care of all my needs in exchange for my influence and power in the world. It was a perfect match.
I pumped myself hard, aggressively, giving her the kind of pleasure she never received before. She moaned loud, her hi-pitch groans like a perfect symphony in my head. I'm sure her son could hear, that got me so excited, him knowing a white man had walked in and taken his Indian mom to the bedroom, his dad able to do nothing, they just watched as I took what I rightfully felt I earned. Ten minutes in, she was drenched in sweat, I don't think she was used to the stamina I had. With me she got pleasure and a workout.
I turned her around, let her on top, I grabbed her sweet brown juicy ass, slapping and feeling it with both hands. Her smooth juicy ass, hmmm, still my favourite feature of her, her husband was a fool to let it go.
I was fully bareback, I got ready to take my cock out to cum, but she held my cock in and shook her head.
"No, no, inside me please, won't be pregnant, inside me please."
The sweetest thing a man could hear.
I pumped myself hard and cummed deep inside her.
"Oh yes! Yes! Ohhhhhhh!" she moaned in that sexy accent. Her toes were curled, her body was shaking: she had just gotten her first real orgasm.
She was breathing heavy. I let her rest for a few minutes. I wasn't planning to sleep that night; I planned to go all the way till sunrise.
I grabbed her breast as she lay there in an orgasmic trance.
"Ready for more?" I said as I rubbed my already semi-erect cock on her leg.
She smiled and nodded. "Oh please. Yes."
The rest of the night could be called a rinse-and-repeat session: I plowed that Indian pussy from 10 till 5. In between fuck session, I walked out the bedroom, naked, sweating, cum dripping of my cock, went in the kitchen, opened the fridge and cracked open some cold ones. As I chugged those down, getting myself ready for more action with that tasty Indian babe of mine, I saw her husband in the living room, sleeping on the couch, I didn't give him a second look.
Being the gentlemen I am, I grabbed some water for Priya, and went back upstairs. She took this time-out to quickly clean herself up. As I saw her fully nude in the bathroom, spitting out mouthwash, it dawned on me that I had fully taken over the house. It was my domain, no question, she was mine, the bedroom was mine, all of it. As a white man who had taken an Indian wife, humbled her husband and subdued her son, I felt very proud -- and immensely turned-on by the whole situation.
*
The next morning: 8:30am
I awoke to see my Indian woman, cummed out, sheets covered in cum stains and her juices, her lying down on her stomach, her ass on show. I gave her a friendly tap on the butt.
"Hey, Priya," I said with the biggest grin.
She looked at me, all bleary-eyed, yet beaming from ear-to-ear. "Hello, Trevor. Last night was wonderful, thank you."
"No need to thank me, I loved it, the sex was amazing. I'm just gonna go shower --" before I could finish my sentence, she grabbed my arm with a vice-like grip.
"No, please, let me join you."
"Hmm great idea."
We walked to the shower, both naked. She led me to their great walk-in shower area. I stepped in, the hot water poured down on me instantly. Then, she got on her knees, grabbed some soap and began rubbing my legs.
"Oh no need for that," I said polity yet loving the idea of this Indian woman rubbing me down in the shower.
"Please, I want to. It makes me feel proud doing this for a man such as yourself. I'm grateful to have a man like you. I take pleasure in pleasing you in everyway." If she didn't already sound like the perfect woman to me, she did just then.
"Hmm I appreciate it. Don't think this will be the last you see of me, I will be back. I'll speak to your son too, I'll explain it all to him."
"Oh thank you. I was going to ask but I didn't want to impose on you."
"It's fine, I want to do it." Telling her Indian son that I had taken his mother was something I looked forward to doing. "Your husband will not be a problem, you got my word."
"Thank you." She rubbed soap on my cock and balls with precise detail. She then turned around and worked on my ass, back and chest. I couldn't hold it in any longer: I grabbed her ass and began making-out with her. I got her against the glass, shoved my cock in, lifted her up and did her military style.
"I hope this is ok?"
"It's, ohh, it's great. I know I man like you needs your morning release. Why not be clean and have both?"
I gave her a long, hard lingering kiss. "You're a great woman, Priya."
"Thank you," she said while blushing and groaning.
*
After getting my 'morning release', I sat down at the table, next to her son. His mom was in the kitchen, wearing a blue bathrobe, beaming proudly with an irremovable smile on her face.
"Hey Son. You good this morning?"
"Y-yeah, I'm good."
"I don't need to explain last night, I'm sure you heard," I said with a sly smile.
"I heard..."
"I wanted to speak with you man-to-man, since it would not be right if your mother explained. Now this may seem like a strange situation, but when explained in context, there is nothing wrong about it. I gave your mother the offer of sex, now there is nothing wrong with that. Your father did nothing about it, in your mother's mind, it was right for her to give me, a tired, weary hard-working man of high status, some sexual relief in the master bedroom. So me and your mother then had sex, as I had earned it and was deserving of this honour. You heard it, we were loud, yes, but that's how sex goes, when it's good its loud, you must've heard it before with your parents?"
He shook his head. "No, never like that."
"Well, with me and your mom, it will be like that and it will be like that again as I will be coming back. To you she is your mother; to me she is a highly attractive, great woman that I am with. If you hear us have sex, that is nothing to be ashamed of, it's natural, it's a good thing, you should be proud of your mother, she's performing her sexual duties well and very proudly, she made me a very happy man."
I patted him on the shoulder and gave him a stern look. "Ok, I'm going to say this once, it has to be said and I mean nothing bad by this. You have no say in who your mother has sex with, you must respect our relationship, even if you don't like me, you must respect me. I expect nothing less."
He nodded his head. "I understand Sir, fully.
..w-when I heard you and my mother, I was stunned at first, but hearing how much pleasure you gave her, what noises you made from her: I highly respect you as a man. I know I have no say in the matter, but I want you to know that I think you're more than worthy of my mother, Sir. I also greatly appreciate how you stood up to my father, you have my deepest thanks."
To hear him thank me for having sex with his Indian mother was something I really liked hearing. "Good, very good. Now, with me gone, you're in charge, keep your dad in line, he does anything, you let me know? Your mother is my women, so I'm protecting you, you understand?"
"Fully! Thank you Sir, I saw Dad last night, I was laughing at him. He gets out of line, I let you know."
"Good, no need to be so formal too. Your level of respect is admirable, keep it up...so you got no problem with the race thing, me being white, your mother Indian?"
"None at all, I greatly appreciate your world view. You have my highest respect, Sir."
"Thanks, well got to get going," I patted him on the shoulder, gave one look to her husband, then got in his car. He then drove me to work. During the drive, I could've bragged about how great his wife was, how little he appreciated her, but after all the humiliation he'd been through, he'd been punished enough. I didn't say a word, he knew what the situation would be from then on. Besides, it was not my style. As you could tell, I'm a take charge guy, I let my actions do the talking, I didn't need to be aggressive, I just did what felt natural.
*
Now, we skip forward three months to let you see how much change happened in a short amount of time.
I opened the door, and entered inside my newly-official home. Yes: things only got better for me after meeting Priya. I got an even better paying job, moved into her home, then brought Rajesh out the house. He was gone: I was in.
I saw Priya there, in more westernized white tank top and tight blue jeans. She came over to me and gave me a kiss.
"Hmm, good to see you too," I grabbed her ass as we kissed. She'd become slightly more toned due to the long sex session we had, but still kept that figure I loved so much.
Her son ran up to me too. "Hey, Dad." He started calling me Dad as an ironic kinda thing, at first to piss off his dad, but the name stuck.
"Hey Son, Rajesh gone?"
"Yeah, didn't help him though, had better things to do."
I ruffled his hair, "That's my boy!"
"Dinner will be ready soon, ok?"
"Thanks Babe." I kissed her again, in full-view of her son. She smiled and walked away.
Since it was my house, and since it was so hot, I did what I'd do in my own place. I took my shirt off, trousers, socks, shoes and walked around in just my boxer shirts. I was definitely the highest authority in the house.
"Hey Son, mind putting my clothes in the washer again?"
"Sure," he grabbed them and put them in.
I sat on the cushion, switching around the TV channels, then I had my dinner, I put a shirt on when eating, not a slob or anything, then the three of us sat around the living room, me, Priya and Son on his laptop.
After dinner, I was tired, I need some relief. I lifted up my erect cock, pushed aside the opening and revealed the tip of my cock. Priya saw it and knew what she needed to do: she knew she needed to give her man some gentle relief. She bent her head down and began licking the tip of my cock like it was an ice cream cone. Son was right there, though his back was to us. He stayed quiet; he knew his mother was doing her rightful duty. She knew she was humbling herself in front of her son, but also knew that showing submission to her man gave her son a great father-figure to look up to.
I stopped her when I got to the point of cumming, I planned to build that load for the bedroom, plus the game was on. Priya was always a sharp woman, one time, I was switching channels and stopped at a women's beach volleyball game, she saw my hard-on grow and without me even asking, she put her hand on my cock and jerked me off good.
When it got to around eleven, I whispered in Priya's ear, "Think it's time I went to bed."
She immediately stood up and went to the bathroom to get ready.
I looked over at Son and said, "I think it's time you took that with you to your room."
"Sure thing, Dad." He happily went into his bedroom. I feel he needs to go to the bedroom the same time I do, because it teaches him respect and order. He understands fully and goes along with my house orders. As Priya finished up in the shower, I waited downstairs, ready for my manly duty.
After I heard the bedroom door close, I knew she was there, naked, waiting. I went into the bathroom, got naked, clean, dried myself off, then walked in fully nude: ready to own her brown ass. It felt so right: strong hard-working white man, ready to take his Indian woman. With her ex, she did the bare minimum, giving him limp quick sex every fortnight or so, but with me she aimed to go above and beyond, pleasuring her man in a most fitting way. She took immense pride in serving a man like me.
I didn't say a word, I know her kinks, I know what she wants, she knows what I want. I grab her by the hips, pulled her in close and began kissing her on the lips. I know she majorly gets off on me being the dominant white man, taking what he wants from his Indian woman; we both get off on that. I rub my fingers on her newly westernized waxed vagina, no permissions needed, rubbing my fingers into her quivering pussy lips. I gently pushed her on the bed, spread her legs open and stuck my 9 inches in (only bareback for me), that day I wanted it hard and fast, so I pumped myself into her at a quick pace.
I got close to her ear and whispered, "You like that white cock, bitch?"
"Hmm you know I do."
She likes it when I talk to her that way, it turns her on. The fantasy of a big strong white man owning her Indian pussy was one she had for a long while, I took great pleasure in playing that role to the fullest.
"You're a proud white-only slut aren't ya?"
"Hmmm, yes I am, so much."
"Well you're built for the pleasure of a white man like me, so enjoy it!"
"Yes, yes oh yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes!" I cummed deep inside her, then lay out on the bed, rubbing myself for another go.
An idea sparked into my head. "Priya, how would you like it if I said: 'Bitch, bedroom, now' in the living room before we have sex?"
"Hmmmm I love it Trevor."
"Good, get used to it." I grabbed her hand and got her rubbing my cock. "Tell me all the things that turn you on about us, that will get me rock hard."
"Oh, I just love how you came to this house, saw me, decided you wanted me and had me, hmm, your sexy white man body is so sexy, you make love to me so well, hmm, not just that, how you took over, made everything better, Son looks at you like you are his father, so impressive, winning his respect like that, seeing my boy with his white father, hmmmm! Yes! Knowing he has a strong father figure, hmmm, knowing he can hear his Indian mother be taken by his white father, ohhh I love that, he knows you're the man and can hear it too, oh yes, oh yes!"
All that talk had got me instantly hard, "Yes. You just wait till the wedding, I'm making sure to invite all my single white friends. You bring the unsatisfied Indian women, mass Indian and white interracial sex."
She rubbed her clit as I told her this. "That will make me so excited to see: Indian women giving themselves to white men, I can't wait."
*
After the white wedding, with her in an apt white wedding dress and me in a suit, we were at the reception, where the real fun was to begin. I encouraged my white friends to hit up conversations with any good looking Indian women they saw. Me and the wife (I can say that now) sat and watched all the interracial flirting take place. We were touching each other behind the table.
We saw a slim, very pretty young Indian woman flirting with my cousin Tim. He towered over here, kneeling down to whisper into her ear, she was blushing and grinning widely. She ran over to her mom and dad and said something to them.
I saw her father hand her a condom, she had a sour look on her face when she held it, she then threw it on the ground and shouted, "Dad, I'm having sex with a white man, your size won't fit him! God! Mom, I came for you, he has a friend that wants to meet you," she dragged her beaming mom by the arm, leaving the father there by himself. We later saw mother and daughter both walk out with their white lovers.
Priya got very excited when she saw her sister Sunita getting hit-on by my best friend Mark. Mark and Sunita hit it off so well that we later saw them in the corner of the hall, sharing light-kisses. The hotel was going to be loud, we knew that. All in all we must have seen half-a-dozen white/Indian couples made that night. We both got very turned-on seeing those traditionally-dressed Indian women going off with white men.
When the reception was winding down, Son approached me with a concerned expression. Standing a little behind him was his cousin, Sanjay, who is the son of Sunita.
"Sorry to bother you Dad, but Sanjay's mom told me that Sanjayth has to stay in my hotel room tonight because she's taking that white man to her room, is it ok if he stays in my room?"
"Oh sure thing, Son!" I said with a beaming smile. I dug into my pocket and gave him a handful of dollar notes, "Should be enough there if you have to pay extra, if not use that money, treat yourself, you earned it Son."
"Thank you Dad."
"Not a problem, Son. Also, let your cousin know that his mother is getting a great white lover, I know the man she's with very well," I nudged closer and said in a hushed tone, "Tell him why he should be happy about this, tell him to be nice to his mother's new man, ok?"
"Got you. Thanks again Dad." He walked over to his cousin, showing him the money I gave him.
Afterwards me and the wife went in the limo and went to the hotel.
When we got to our hotel room at 5pm, my wife took of her dress to show her all-white bridal lingerie ensemble, with a lacy bra, thong and stockings.
"White looks best on you," I said standing fully naked.
"Yes, it always has. Now, it's official."
"Yes, everyone will know that Priya Patel-Stevens is an Indian woman that takes white cock." I walked over to her and kissed her while putting my hands on her ass. I then took her underwear off, got her on the bed and did my best to break it as I plowed the fuck out of my sexy Indian wife.
In the evening, I went down to the bar. I saw my cousin Tim and his friend Greg, both had gotten themselves an Indian woman.
"I'm buying," said Tim. "You hooked me up that tight flexible horny fucking chick I got in my bedroom, I have to thank you."
"Same for me," said Greg, "I got that chick's mom, she's so wants it, I can't believe how much she does. They both right now in the shower, cleaning each other up, talking about the huge cocks they had! Never met women so eager."
"Yeah, Greg. Best thing is, since they mother and daughter, they live in the same house, so I can hang with my pal while I fuck her."
We clinked glasses in celebration. Being with fellow white guys that took Indian women as their own was a huge turn-on for me.
"Well. keep us updated, me and the wife love knowing that needy Indian women are getting the extra inches they need from guys like us."
"I'll drink to that!" they both said happily.
*
Up next was what I was looking most forward to: the honeymoon. We decided to go an Indian beach resort, located in the town of Goa, a place where many of her countrymen and women could see my Indian wife flaunting her body, with me there, her white husband right next to her. We brought along Son with us too, I knew he would appreciate seeing his mother's fine form in a bikini. I figured he would find his mom to be hot, hell I would in his shoes, I let Priya know this, but, quite frankly, what her son thought of her was not going to stop her being sexy. As long as he behaved and showed proper respect to his father, that was all that mattered.
We got to the beach resort and saw all sorts of men and women look at my wife, her wearing just a cream bikini-top with bikini-bottoms that were riding into her ass. Her walking confidently, with me, wearing my nut-hugger shorts, by her side, proud of her body that was toned in part to repeated injections of white cock. Son was right behind us, red-faced yet happy.
A fully-covered one-piece and sarong wearing Indian woman whispered something to my wife in their language; my wife turned around and replied loudly. The women glared and walked off.
"What she say?"
"Well, she basically said 'so shameful, Indian mother showing off with a white man like that', I replied, 'don't be jealous, you should see his cock.'"
"That's my girl!" I grabbed her by the ass and kissed her on the cheek.
She smiled and then sat on one of the lounge chairs. I went up to her son to see how he was doing.
"Hey Son, you doing ok?"
"I'm doing great, Dad."
"Not ashamed at all or anything."
"No, Dad," he replied firmly, "I am in fact proud of you both, greatly. I know how great of a man you are, seeing you two together and hearing you be such a great man with her in the bedroom, all of that gives me much respect for you as my father. I agree with Mom, people who disapprove are jealous and I like it, I like that envy."
"Thank, Son...you gotta admit though, your mother looks good."
"Yes, I like that she shows off more, I like that she has more confidence... She tells me she's a wife first, a mother second, I really like that, her priorities are right. She should take care of your needs first, as you are the man."
"Yes that is right, Son. Good that you understand." I patted him on the shoulder, then sat next to my woman
"Man-to-man talk?" she asked.
"Yes, he understands fully, he is a great son."
"He is proud to have a strong white father like you to look up to. I think it's good he gets to see his Indian mother with her white husband, it lets him know who's in charge, he should know his mother is a woman too, he should have some distance from his mother, he should be closer to his father, which he is. You're teaching him to be a man by showing him how you treat his mother."
I rubbed her leg. "Yes, exactly, and it never hurts from him to see me in charge, reinforce that fact to him. Now turn over babe."
She turned around; I grabbed some lotion and lewdly began rubbing her back and legs with it, paying special attention to her ass. Some looked in shock, most looked in delight. Indian husbands made their wives move along quick, not wanting my western influence to entice them away.
This was not my first trip to Goa, I'd taken quite a few Indian women to my bedroom before, married and unmarried, it never mattered, there was no issue, when I saw them, I decided where I'd fuck them. But my bachelor days were over, I was older, more weary, had a job requiring me to work crazy hours, I needed a woman to fuck with ease in the bedroom each night, and I had gotten that. I was also so glad that I had a woman that shared my desire for Asian fem/white male sex, so much so she openly flaunted her acceptance of a white man making love to her each and every night.
We lay there in the sun, taking in the surroundings, me giving friendly solidarity nods to every interracial couple I saw. After relaxing for a bit, we all went to see the gym. I hit some weights while Priya stood around. Females stood and watched me, when they did, Priya went over to them and gloated about her strong white husband. As Priya was still in her bikini, men came trying to hit up conversations with her, but when she pointed out her husband, they quickly scurried off. Son was there too. After a quick hop in the shower, I wrapped a towel around myself, and grabbed two more. I tossed them to my wife and son.
"Come, let's go to the steam room."
They agreed, and put the towels on. Priya took her bikini off with the towel wrapped around her; I saw Son's face go red. We handed him her bikini, my shorts and put them in a bag, we then handed that bag to Son. He took his shorts off too.
When we got in, me and the wife looked at each other, then both took our towels off. We didn't see the logic in being clothed in a steam room -- well, that's our excuse anyway. There was no one else there besides two elderly men who sat in the back. Son was behind us, he looked in shock at our naked backsides. We sat on the north side bench, Son sat next to us on the left, he also took his towel off. He looked in amazement at his mother's large juicy breasts; saliva was dripping from his mouth.
I put my big white paw on her brown breast and gave it a good squeeze; her son looked stoically as I did this. Men grope their wives, so Priya saw no problem with me showing affection. I used my free hand to open her legs, I wanted her son to know if his mother was shaved or not. She was -- for my benefit.
I then held her chin, faced her face towards mine and gave her a strong powerful deep kiss. I respected and liked Son, but I wanted him to see firsthand his Indian mother was mine, and she in turn was proud to put me first.
I was horny as fuck at that point, so I stood up, and said, "So Son we going to our hotel room, see you later."
His mom waved bye at him like nothing had happened -- she was so comfortable being nude that she didn't even notice she was naked.
He smiled and mumbled bye as he handed me the card, his legs were closed as he was hiding his giant hard-on.
As we were walking out, I wanted to give Son one final treat. I got behind her and gave her a loud, wet, hard slap to her sexy brown ass, with sweat flying as soon as I touched it. It was a strong visual reminder for Son that I, a white man, owned his mother's brown ass.
We put our towels on and walked over to the hotel, bare-footed and barely clothed. Indian men were checking out my wife's ass and tits. While the men leered at her, the Indian women were checking me out; they were visibly impressed by my toned body. We could feel the envy -- and we loved it. I loved that everyone in that lobby knew we'd be having hot interracial sex, knowing some of the men were jealous that I'd taken one of 'their' women for my sexual needs.
I groped her while we were in the elevator, got to our floor, I swiped the card, ripped open the door and stuck my dick in her before we hit the bed.
I pumped her good and hard, growling like an animal with its prey, devouring my Indian wife's trim pussy with my large white cock. I got her on the middle of the bed and gave her rough kisses on her lips.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" I grunted loudly.
Then, all of a sudden, a short, tight-bodied Indian maid, complete with outfit, walked into the room. She was wearing her headphones so she didn't hear us. She saw us and screamed. She may have slowed me down for a millisecond, but I just kept on fucking, because nothing gets in the way of my sex time. Priya grabbed my head and pulled me in for a kiss, kinda like she was saying to the woman, "this is my white man, be jealous!"
The woman was frozen for a few seconds, possibly turned-on by what she was watching. She then ran out and closed the door. That encounter just got us more horny, I plowed faster, faster, my heart racing, harder, harder, harder, she was screaming right in my ear, all I could hear was her orgasmic screams, I went harder, harder, till I couldn't hold it in. I cummed the most I ever did right inside her.
I dripped down on the sheets, a visible reminder of what I did to my Indian wife.
I saw the open balcony; I rubbed my cock and knew I still had some left in me. I got up, pointed to the balcony and said, "Come on, we won't get to do this again.
"
She nodded, ran to the balcony and stood there, her pussy dripping with cum, all the other holiday goers seeing her body. I walked up to her, she turned around, I kissed her on the lips, put my hands on her back, slid them down, held them up high, then grabbed her brown ass with both hands, letting them know that this white man owns this Indian woman's ass.
I kissed her, pushed her near the railing, stuck my cock in and fucked her. I grabbed her tit with one hand and sucked the other one. The red-hot sun was burning down on us, our bodies were literally pouring with sweat.
I looked down and saw the people's expressions, some gasping, some stunned, some smiling. We were both incredibly turned-on -- and for good reason. My Indian wife, defying her restrictive culture, openly showing her nude body, proudly displaying her choice of man, while me, I was a white man, an outsider, that was openly violating one of 'their' women in her home country. I was making such a brash, cocky statement by plowing her out in the open: I was damn proud of it, too.
I lifted her leg up, went quicker and shot my thick load in her. Not wanting the police on our backs, we went back inside, having proved our point.
She rubbed her clit with a huge, content smile on her face, ready for more.
"Oh this is gonna be a long night."
She was right, it was. All in all, my dream had come true, I'd got the perfect Asian bride I desired and she got the strong white man she always wanted. Things after this grew and grew, to bigger and better things.