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The High Society Wife

It was hot by mid-morning, but May's always hot in Mumbai. I was lazing by the swimming pool at the Gulmohahar Society Apartments. A hot bhabhi and her two toddlers were in the shallow end. She was made for fucking, with ripe breasts and an ass to match. She glanced surreptitiously at me. I stared openly and she responded by moving more seductively than the last time we played our little games. I'd bet in less than a month I would be between her firm, gymmed legs.

The clank of the metal gate announced the arrival of another sun bather. I'd seen her around the pool with her husband. She was early twenties and had straightened long black hair cropped around her head. About five feet four, she had a nice tight figure, with small breasts and a magnificent ass and legs. She was wearing a hot pink, knit bikini that left little to my ever-active imagination.

And she was mad as hell.

She marched to a lounge chair, threw down her towel and suntan lotion, flounced to the water, and jumped in. In seconds, she was out. She slouched back on the lounge chair, with her feet planted and legs apart. She lit a cigarette, took a deep breath, and exhaled. Her right leg moved back and forth. It was a neon sign calling attention to her sweet pussy pointed directly at me.

I didn't pretend I wasn't looking. I was enjoying the view.

She glared at me, blew smoke in my general direction, and looked away. When she looked back at me, I grinned. She turned beet red, jumped up, and stormed toward me.

"What's so funny?" she asked as she stood over my lounge chair like an Bahubali warrior.

The mother herded her brood to the far end of the pool to watch us wide-eyed.

"It's a beautiful day and I'm in a good mood," I replied, smiling up at her.

"You're a lecherous old fart," she snapped. "I've seen you out here, flirting and eyeing the women. I should tell the Society about you."

"What are you going to tell them?" I asked innocently.

"That you're a bastard. Another lousy male bastard." Her teeth were clenched, her jaw set.

"I'm sorry you're upset... say, what's your name?"

"None of your business," she barked.

"Can I call you 'none' for short?" I asked impudently.

"Smart ass!"

"I'm trying to get a laugh out of you," I said calmly. "I don't know what's eating you, but I didn't do it."

She screeched, stamped her foot, and stormed off to retrieve her things. I watched that delightful ass as it flexed away. Towel over her shoulder, she took one step away from her chair, turned on the ball of her foot, and advanced on me again.

"Do you want to fuck me?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered.

"Can you still get it up?"

"It's up. Want to check for yourself?"

She reddened. There wasn't a touch of humour in her expression.

"All right. Come on," she said.

I followed that delightful ass in those bikini bottoms to her apartment in the back of the complex. She unlocked the door, strode toward the bedroom, and called back, "Lock the door behind you."

The living room had a couch, recliner, and big screen TV. The bedroom was equally sparse. There was a queen-sized bed with no head or foot boards, one battered wooden end table with an ancient lamp, and a massive, but cheap looking, chest of drawers.

One knot, two knot, three knot, four. The hot pink bikini lay on the floor.

Her bush was shaved into a Mohawk. The hair remaining was dense and dark brown. Her breasts were high and hard with small nipples. Each breast was perfect, a tasty mouthful.

She didn't look at my cock when I dropped my swimsuit.

"I'll be on top," she commanded, "and quit looking at my breasts!"

I lay back in the middle of the bed. Her eyes were angry as she crawled onto me, straddling my chest. Her pussy rested on my belly with my erect cock brushing her ass.

"You're a bastard. You're all bastards."

A tear slipped out of her right eye to slide down her cheek.

"There's nothing wrong with my breasts. There's nothing wrong with me. Why do you have to cheat with every cow who wanders by?"

Her red face crumbled as she emitted a loud sob. I gently put my hands on her waist to comfort her.

"Don't touch me," she said, pushing my hands down. She glared at me and the tears stopped. She ground her bush into my stomach. I was glad I did my sit ups each morning.

"You men think you can cheat with any woman you want and we'll put up with it."

She dug her fingernail into the cartilage of my ear. I grimaced, pulled her hand away, and checked for blood.

"Well, women can cheat, too. We can even cheat with old men like you, which is what I'm going to do now," she snarled.

She grabbed my cock, opened the lips of her pussy, lodged him in her opening, and jammed her hips down hard, burying my cock to the hilt. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed an "O."

"Oh," she said with a lilt of surprise. She squirmed, feeling him inside her. She rocked back and forth. I felt a gush of pussy juice on my crotch.

"Ohhhh," she moaned.

She raised up until only my cock head was in her. She slid down him slowly and her head went back. She rotated her hips slowly, round and round. I covered each breast with a hand.

She slapped my hands away and said firmly, "I said don't touch me."

Her hands replaced mine on her breasts. She massaged them roughly and twisted her nipples. A sheen of sweat broke out on her belly. Her thighs squeezed my sides as she gurgled, arched her back, and jammed her pubis into me. Her pussy spasmed on my cock as she groaned softly.

She slumped against me, her breathing hard in my ear. When I put my arms around her, she rolled away.

"Give me a hickey," she said. Her voice was quiet and far away, but with a cold undertone. "I want him to know I fucked another man." She lay her arms by her head.

I examined the marvellous landscape she wanted me to mar, from the hollow in her throat, over the hills of her breasts, to the narrows dimpled by her navel.

She shifted slightly when my lips touched her breasts. She crossed her wrists over her head as her eyes fluttered closed. I trapped her wrists with one hand and slipped a finger into the silky wetness between her legs, moving it slowly back and forth as I marked her left breast with hickey after hickey.

Her breast was sensitive. She could've cum just from my sucking it, but my hand was active between her legs. She undulated under my touch and pulled against my hand holding her wrists. She enjoyed small orgasm after orgasm, each accompanied by a gasp and a mutter. When her breast was covered in hickeys, I moved between her legs.

Her eyes were hot and dreamy as she brought her knees up and out. I fucked her hard until we came together, I for the first time, she for the last and greatest of many. When I lay down beside her, she snuggled against me. Sleep overcame us.

The bed moved and I heard the patter of her feet on the floor. I was propped up on the pillow when she returned from the bathroom.

"Even a blind man should be able to see this," she said indicating her breast, completely covered by hickeys.

It was a delightful mass of red and blue hues. We both grinned, but hers quickly morphed to guilt.

"I didn't mean to use you," she said softly. "It's just that I..."

"No apologies. I loved every minute. I'd like to do it again."

She shook her head. "No," she said with a hint of sadness.

We didn't speak as I dressed and she walked me to the door.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Gauri. What's yours?"

"Deepak ."

She pressed her naked body into me and kissed me gently on the lips.

"Goodbye, Deepak . I enjoyed fucking with you," she said as she shut the door.

I didn't see her again, or hear from her until about two months later when I found a message on my voice message from her.

"Deepak ," her voice said. "This is Gauri. I don't know if you remember me, but I'm the wife who lived in 1114. You know, the one with the hickies on her breast. Please call me on this number.

I returned her call and she was at my apartment in twenty minutes.

When I opened the door, she smiled broadly and gave me a sweet kiss on the lips, which I eagerly returned.

"I'm glad to see you. Would you like some wine?" I asked.

"Please. Red if you have it."

I poured Merlot for both of us and sat beside her on the couch.

"Where have you been?" I asked.

"I moved out and filed for divorce," she said calmly. "I've been living with my mother."

"I'm sorry to hear it."

"I'm not. That day with you opened a can of worms, but the can needed to be opened."

"If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"

"I don't mind," she grinned. "I came here to tell you." She sipped the Merlot before setting the glass on the table.

"I didn't clean up after you left," she said. "I stayed naked with all the sights and smells of our lovemaking obvious to anyone. When he came home, he knew immediately. He went nuts. Oh, I don't mean he was violent. Knowing I'd fucked another man made him unbelievably horny. He jumped on me and we fucked into the night. He wanted me to tell him everything that happened with you, but I didn't."

"It sounds like you got the results you wanted," I said.

"Not really. The next morning, he told me he wanted me to fuck some of his friends and let him watch. I said no, of course. That made him mad, so he stepped up the pressure. That made me madder."

Gauri slipped off her shoes and put them neatly under the coffee table. She stood and unzipped her skirt. Her eyes were twinkling as she walked a few feet away and slipped off her panties. I had the expected reaction.

"Then, one morning, he told me two friends of his were coming over that night and that they'd fuck me, whether I liked it or not. I moved out that day."

She slipped off her blouse, unfastened her bra, and tossed it aside. I stared at a pair of beautiful, surgically enhanced breasts.

"Well, Deepak , what do you think?" she asked impishly.
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