where does it goes from here???
Hem is Hemlatta his wife of twelve years, a beautiful creature.
Alabaster skin, dark obsidian eyes, full silky hair, about
5 3. She has great presence, takes over the whole room
the second she walks in. She loves to laugh and people like
the sound of her laughter. Very intelligent and very well-read,
she can talk just about any subject, but she does it without
making anyone feel small. Men love her and respect her.
My girlfriends who met her envied her and hated her for her
attractiveness, but Hem invariably managed to put them
at ease with her familiar, non-judgmental charm.
And if you havent figured it out already, I was crazy about
her.
And what she had said no to was having sex with me.
Ashok had repeatedly shared his fantasy with me that he
wanted some one else to fuck his wife. And he was crude about
it. I suppose that was the excitement of the fantasy. I
want another guy to balls-up fuck the shit out of her yaar.
It makes me cream in pants just thinking about it.
How can you be so crude? Were talking about Hem. Your wife.
Well whats wrong with it. Im not jealous. I would like
to share her. It would wrong of me not to share such a heavenly
woman, he winked. I think shell like it even though
shell never admit it. Just once, I want see her fucked.
It might as well be you, yaar.
Might as well, I agreed rolling up my eyes. Have you
discussed this with her.
Many times. At first she was angry. How could I even think
of it she said, sharing her like a whore. Did I think she was
a whore? That kind of stuff. Then I would bring it up while
I was fucking her. Like, what if it was someone else fucking
you right now Hem, not your husband. She doesnt say anything
but I know she gets wetter and she puts marks on my back. I
know she likes it. One of these days maybe it will make her
give me a blowjob. She never does that.
You dont have oral sex? I asked.
Plenty of oral sex, me doing her yaar. She thinks its dirty
to suck me. I dont even want to bring up fucking her up her
arse, she would cut off my cock if I even mention it. Bitch.
I was uncomfortable with the way he talked about his wife.
We are talking about a very proper woman here. A woman that
I was infatuated with. A woman who made me wish I was a better
man. This is a woman who didnt have children because she
wanted to focus on her very promising and glamorous career
as a writer for a popular feminist magazine, but when her
younger sister died in a car crash a few months ago, Hem quit
her job the very next day and became a mother to her sisters
two toddlers. This was a classy woman.
A few days later Ashok called me.
Come to dinner Sunday.
Im going to Toronto late at night. We can have dinner first.
Hema was as charming as usual. After dinner, we were sitting
around talking. Ashok had had too much to drink. So are
you going to fuck my wife after I leave? he said.
She turned crimson. I thought she was going to slap him.
Just leave Ashok. Go on your damned trip.
Its a simple ques-
ASHOK! Enough.
He got up, grabbed his overnight bag, and left, slamming
the door.
Hes too much, she said. Why isnt he happy with me.
Hes sick. Do you know what he wants me to do?
Well, kindof, he-
Sick! Hes sick. I couldnt sleep with another man. Even
if it was you.
That was a warm thing to say. It made me smile.
She continued, Can you imagine? He wants me to be a whore.
God, I mean if I was drugged or something maybe.
She picked up an after-dinner mint from a bowl on the table
between us. Like the kind you get at some restaurants, just
a small piece of sugary candy.
Like if this was some kind of drug and someone spiked my
drink with it. Perhaps then
So I took the piece of candy from her and threw it in her drink.
She pretended not to notice.
A few minutes later she had finished her drink.
We had said
very little.
She folded her hands in her lap and straightened her back,
looked at me shyly and whipered, Im ready.
I went over to her and stood her up. I held her face in both
of my hands and kissed her. I felt like the luckiest man alive.
I couldnt believe this was happening. I wanted to memorize
the feeling.
I caressed her neck and back as I kissed her. Her lips were
full. She was actively kissing back, not like many of bimbo
automatons Id been with. She was wearing a short blouse
and I explored the skin around the small of her back. It was
warm and lively; I could feel downy hair and smallest bit
of moisture.
I was beside myself. Who was this divine woman? I wanted
to know everything about her, I wanted to feel all her sorrows
and desires and laughter. I wanted to hold her, to protect
her, to touch her, to be inside her, to behind her, to absorb
her. I couldnt decide what to do next, I was completely
fuddled. I wanted to be her, to be one with her.
She broke away. I held the edge of her sari, a beautiful,
impossibly white sari with gold embroidery. She smiled
at me and with outstretched hands, she started to slowly
twirl out the sari. She moved slowly and gracefully, smiling
coyly, as she danced out of her sari. Never had I before,
nor will I ever see a more femine sight than this mysterious,
complete woman unraveling before me, her gold jewelry
shimmering.
She ran upstairs to their bedroom.
She was on her bed already naked. Her tits were not large
but full, round and the nipples were high and prominent.
Her pussy hair was not jet black, it was a dark brown, and
cleanly trimmed.
I dove in and she loved it. She tasted wonderful. I devoured
her, pushing my tongue into her folds and flicking her clit.
She was vocal. Higher. Slow down. She moved a lot, squirming
across the bed, my tongue chasing her. He grabbed my hair,
pulling it roughly at time to move me to certain spot.
She screamed when she came. I dont mean a metaphoric scream,
I mean a piercing, lustful, unabashed, primal scream.
He pulled me up and I started kissing her again. I kissed
her neck and entered her and started pumping slowly. But
she knew what she wanted.
She slapped my back and said through clenched teeth, Harder!
Fuck me harder bastard. Fuck your best friends wife. Fuck
me like Im whore. Aaargh!
I fucked her harder than I ever had before. Hard and fast.
We were both sweating a lot by now. I kissed her tits and her
armpits and inhaled her scent.
Im almost there, I said.
NO! Dont come yet, she said. Fuck my arse!
I was shocked.
She squiggled out from under me and turned over.
Fuck my
arse.
Who was I to argue? I slipped inside her arse easily because
she was already wet with excitement and sweat. And I was
in heaven. It wasnt like I was fucking any woman in the arse;
its a pretty good day when that happens. This was Hema.
I thanked my karma.
I knew I came a lot. I convulsed four times and thats unusual
at my age.
We didnt tell Ashok and he doesnt ask. Its kind of an open
secret. He trips seem to happen more frequently. He doesnt
ask why my toiletries are in his bathroom or why some of my
clothes are in his closet.
Shes the proper wife for him, a whore for me. She blows me
and swallows. She wants me to fuck her in the arse. She wants
me to fuck her by her pool, in the pool, in the hot-tub, on
her marital bed, on kitchen counter, on the dining room
table, in the back seat of my car. When she goes out with me
she wears slutty clothes without panties. She smokes cigarettes,
drinks a lot. I got some pot the other day; now she cant get
enough of it.
Im trying to reconcile being best friends with Ashok while
fucking his wife.
Im trying to reconcile my respect for a beautiful, strong,
capable, divine woman with my lust for the whorish slut
she can be.