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A Night to Remember

WE LIVE IN BOMBAY, INDIA. We've been married for about fifteen years now. My wife is a knockout; at least I think so. She's dusky with really lovely, fine, regular features -- a slender nose, superb cheekbones and an exquisitely sculpted line to her chin and jaw. Her eyes are dark and large and she lines them with eye-black. Her mouth is really sexy with a full lower lip and the upper one bowed over it, and her teeth are very white and even. Her hair is dark and thick, down to the small of her back. She has a lovely long, graceful neck which leads to a pair of truly gorgeous breasts: sloping and high and full, tipped with long nipples that harden very, very readily, and set in really sex aureoles. I love the way they pucker and her breasts get swollen and heavy when she's aroused. Her waist is small and her belly is nice and firm and flat -- no love-handles, no sagging pouches, just the slightest, but firm, curve. Overall, she's a near-perfect 38-26-34. Sometimes I wonder how I got so lucky!

Madhu is hopelessly and delightfully addicted to sex. She's not a nympho or anything, but nothing gives her as much pleasure as good, hard, demanding fucking. I won't go into the full story of how we started on the cuckold-scene except to say that we've been doing it, with great satisfaction, for nearly ten years now and it was entirely mutual: I shared with her my desire to see her being fucked, and fucked hard, by another man, a bull of a man and, at once, Madhu accepted. Her excitement was evident and I was filled with a mixture of joy and arousal and a terrible dread.

Anyway, it started and that first incident was sado-masochistically mesmerising and utterly irresistible. Our chosen bull was a hired gigolo. We'd decided it would be best to start with someone skilled and also relatively anonymous. The man was very, very good. Good looking, well-built, exceedingly well-hung and something of an artist when it came to sex. Nothing rushed about his technique and his stamina was truly awesome. He took his time and it was more in the nature of a seduction. They were together for a long time that evening. And I watched with a pounding in my head and heart, my eyes burning, my ears echoing with her cries of lust and passion as he fucked her again and again and again like I have never been able to do. She loved every minute of it, panting and moaning and writhing ecstatically with him, letting herself be taken repeatedly and her love calls were obscene and erotic. I can still remember the sight of her on her forearms and knees on the living room carpet, rocking back and forth, her swollen breasts swinging and jiggling, her face turned up and over a shoulder and radiant with passion while he took her from behind straddling her hips. I watched his big cock grinding in and out of her cunt and saw how he fucked her first for her pleasure and then for his. He topped it off by fucking her mouth and creaming in her face. It was the first time I'd seen her do that -- with me, she'd always refused, but this time she seemed unable to say no to anything, she acted like a wanton sex slave. I moaned as I watched his cum spurt into her open mouth and splash on her face and breasts and saw her smiling lasciviously as he finished.

It took us two days to recover and then, when I was fucking her, I kept thinking of the guy and I knew she was, too. It added to our pleasure, each knowing the other knew but not saying. Our orgasms were terrific. That night I asked if she'd like to do it again and she said yes, of course, as often as possible. And that's how it began.

Now in India social norms are very different from what they are in Europe and America. It's a far less egalitarian society and most (practically all) households have live-in full-time servants and domestic staff. The wages aren't high so this isn't as impressive as it sounds. Besides, one needs the staff because the other basic infrastructure really isn't that optimised for people to manage on their own. Anyway, the servants (men and women) are always economically less well off than their employers and significantly so. Most of them don't even have a basic education. They often come from villages seeking work in the cities and take jobs in houses and as errand boys in offices or chauffeurs and such. Indian society has always regarded them (unfortunately in my view) as 'socially' less privileged (no one uses the word inferior any more, but that's what they mean). Contact with servants is required, by social mores, to be distant and aloof. No familiarity. They do not dine at table, for example. Nowadays things are changing and the new generation of servants is better dressed and considerably more modernised. The women, for example, now use make up, simple though it is and only on special occasions, more often and dress better.

The point is that any kind of overtly familiar relations with servants are very much still a scandal. Forget about sex with them. That's completely out. So imagine the thrill when our next bull was one of our house servants, a sturdily built young man in his early twenties, lean and hard-bodied, and rough in his manner. We arranged it between ourselves without telling him. The rest of the staff was given the day off. He stayed. And then Madhu went about seducing him and in no time at all they were fucking in the bedroom while I watched, hidden, my pulse racing and with a huge hard-on. The guy was terribly excited at the chance of being able to fuck his mistress and it showed. She had to control the pace to prolong it. He fucked her hard and called her all kinds of names (whore and slut and so on) and took her two or three times in different positions but this time, unlike with the gigolo, she was in control. I can still see her riding his cock, squatting over his lap, her face flung back, her mouth open, gasping and calling out loudly, her buttocks bouncing off his thighs, her cunt sliding up and down on the long thickness of his dark cock. He kept watching her, transfixed, and squeezing her big breasts.

After that, there was no turning back and we went on steadily. Madhu took more servants, other gigolos and then we moved on to acquaintances and then close friends.

II

THREE OR FOUR YEARS after we entered the scene, for the first time, Madhu had two bulls together. That was her idea, entirely. She claimed that the only thing better than one bull was two. I was thrilled. The very thought was erotic. It was one of my most ardent fantasies and I couldn't believe that she had suggested it. I knew this was another beginning, in a way. Soon, I hoped, I'd be able to take her to living out my next level of fantasies -- full fledged orgies with several guys fucking her, having her to a live sex show for a select audience and even whoring herself to complete strangers. I'll tell you later how much of that we've been able to get to; actually, it's quite a lot of it.

Anyway, this was then a special occasion for us and we arranged it carefully. Two years earlier, I'd bought a lovely beach property about two hours drive south and had the existing house completely redone. Madhu worked on it, with an unerring touch and gave it a truly wonderful, warm feel. I'd put in a pool, too. It has two floors, with three bedrooms on the floor above with a wide terrace or balcony that runs along the front so that each room opens out onto the upper deck. The floor below is at garden level. I have a study that looks out on the garden and pool and the sea beyond. The living room actually opens out fully so that it almost feels as if the garden has climbed the patio and come right in. There's a little dining alcove on one side with a table that can seat 8 comfortably, another breakfast nook on the patio, a large, airy kitchen with a big pantry and larder. The two car garage is just beyond. We've entertained here often and I have vivid memories of the innumerable times I've watched my wife with other men here -- in the house, in the garden, in the pool, on the white sands with the sea curving around their writhing bodies.

Madhu chose her lovers for the evening. Some distance from the house there is a small village. The young men come out in the mornings and evenings and, living so close to the sea, many are adept swimmers. Ever since we got the place and started work on it, Madhu had been eyeing the young men hungrily. One or two of them are exceptionally sexy. The best of them all is a tall, superbly built youth in his mid-twenties.

Raju is dark and very good-looking. His body is truly stunning, sculpted like a classical statue. He's tall and has the broad shoulders, wide chest and high, narrow hips of a strong swimmer, and a swimmer's long, smooth, sinewy muscles. His belly is rock-hard and cobbled with a prominent six-pack. About a year earlier, we called him over to the house ostensibly to help with harvesting the fruit of several coconut trees that grow in our orchard. He agreed and I could see Madhu's mounting excitement as she watched him climb the tree effortlessly using just his bare feet and the palms of his hands, his muscles rippling like snakes under his taut, dark skin.

When he was done, an hour later, she rewarded him suitably. We were both thrilled to find that his endowments matched his physique and, better still, that he was evidently a skilled, caring yet demanding lover. He now tends the garden, cleans the pool and general looks after the place for us when we're not there.

Raju was her first choice for the special evening. After a lot of thought and discussion -- we considered a friend, one of her favoured gigolo, others -- we finally decided that it should be her favourite servant-bull. And so it was.

We left the city late Friday night, the three of us, Madhu, I and the servant. I took the minivan which I used for moving heavy stuff from our city apartment to the beach place. Behind the driver's cab in front was a low door that led to the back of the van.
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