192020It had been my idea to go to the Diwali party, and Ajit, the wonderful husband that he is, agreed immediately. I was looking forward to re-injecting some long-forgotten Indianness back into my life, and a party with fireworks, good food, and new people while wearing elegant traditional clothes seemed like a great idea. In theory that is. In reality, I was regretting coming up with the idea in less than an hour of getting there. At least for the first hour or so. And the regret stemmed mainly from the fact that I had forgotten how much I loathed the monochromatic company of the typical cocoon-dwelling Indian immigrant in the US.
Ajit and I entered the big house hosting the party, put the food we had brought in the kitchen, poured ourselves a couple of drinks, and got into mingling mode. A couple approached us and started talking. We started off with the basics like where we were from, where we lived, what we did and so on. He was in IT, she was a housewife. They had also come to the party after seeing the flier. We all talked about how chilly it had been getting recently. And from there, the conversation went downhill as the couple’s cocoon started showing.
And by that, I mean the conversation turned to the extremely short list of banal topics that most Indian immigrants appear to think they’re legally obligated to bring up when talking to a compatriot. First it was about visas, stamping procedures, green card applications, priority dates, and USCIS customer service. Then it was about the Bollywood potboilers which seemed to have names as long as entire paragraphs. Then it was about the Indian restaurants in town. Then the guy started talking to Ajit about cricket and the woman started talking to me about how America is so boring and there is nothing to do but shop.
Now, shopping I love. Actual fun shopping – fashion, clothes, shoes, even electronics. But she was more into shopping topics like where you can get the best deals on toe socks, which Indian store has the cheapest Basmati rice and how crowded Walmart is on weekends. Then she launched into a thesis on the various calling cards for India, and which ones you can save 1/8th of a cent per minute on if you avoid toll-free numbers and buy 3000 minutes during Hindu festivals while standing on one foot facing Varanasi and chanting the Gayatri mantra or some such load of crap.
When she started talking about some cable company that offers Aastha Channel in their very cheap Indian package and how listening to some Swami or Baba’s early morning spiritual sermons makes her feel one with the universe, I was about ready to shove a bag of Basmati rice down her throat. I tried catching Ajit’s eye to give him the “Rescue Me!” signal, even tried to slowly merge our conversation with the one he was having with the husband about cricket. I actually contemplated joining a conversation about a game I find unbearable. That’s how much I wanted her to shut up.
Ajit was in the middle of describing the “old world languid elegance and compact stroke play” or some such nonsense of some cricketer whose name sounded a lot like Che Guevara. He was too immersed in his conversation to take note of my misery. I always envy Ajit’s equanimity and ability to find something in common with anyone, get a conversation going and actually enjoy it. Send him to a Trappist monastery and he’ll have those guys yakking like teenagers. I was about to gently nudge him when the woman grabbed my elbow and said, “come, let us get some snacks”.
She almost dragged me to the table and started heaping appetizers on a plate. I hoped that eating them would make her shut her trap for long enough to get me some relief. I picked up a samosa and munched on it. I was about to make an excuse and escape from her when she said,
“Oh! There are some of my keertan mandal (prayer club) friends! Come, you should meet them. And join our group.”
And suddenly my ordeal got way worse. I was now surrounded by five more replicas of this unbearable woman. Actually worse, because most of them had kids. The conversation centered around diapers and late night feedings and potty training and so on. Luckily, now that they had each other, I didn’t need to pay too much attention to what was being said. I quietly munched on the samosa, sipped on my drink and waited for a few minutes to pass so I could slip away without seeming impolite. I noticed that Ajit was in a group of guys, but he seemed to be having a much better time than I was.
“Yashodhara, do you have any issues?”
I noticed that everyone was looking at me. It took me a couple of seconds to parse the question, which was phrased in a typically Indian-English idiom.
“Well, who doesn’t have issues? We all have issues. I do my best to deal with them.” I said and giggled.
If there had been any crickets chirping in the vicinity, they would’ve caused a din. My joke had fallen completely flat. In India, that question is a quaint way of asking if you have any children. I had tried to joke about it using the non-Indian meaning of the word “issues”.
“What?????” the lady who had asked me the question said after a couple of seconds.
“It was just a joke.” I said.
“Never mind. To answer your question, no, no kids.”
“Why not?” asked a middle aged lady. “Any medical problems?”
I just stared at her in shock. I had forgotten how intensely nosy other Indian women could be, especially the older ones.
“If you’re having trouble conceiving, let me know. Our Guruji back in Meerut has this special concoction that can help. I’ll ask my sister to bring some when she comes. But for that to work…” she threw a pointed look at the empty glass in my hand, “… you cannot drink any alcohol.”
“You drink?????” another woman, this one in her early 20s but dressed like a grandmother, asked me in a voice that suggested I had assassinated the aforementioned Guruji.
“Excuse me.” I said, exercising the utmost self-restraint in not flipping off those harpies and went to find a bathroom.
“I think she got offended.” I heard the 20 year old grandma whisper in a voice loud enough to cross oceans and another woman let out a derisive laugh.
I rapidly made my way through groups of people towards what seemed to be the door to a bathroom. I put my hand on the doorknob when it turned on its own and the door pulled back open, making me lose my footing. I stumbled forward and banged against a man in his 60s dressed in a cheap gray suit. His hands shot up and held me by my shoulders. My hands instinctively grabbed his arms for support. I mumbled an apology and straightened right away. His hands lingered on my shoulders for a second and then I felt his fingers rub against my boobs before he pulled them away.
I looked at his face which wore a naughty grin for a split second before he pursed his lips.
“Are you okay?” he asked, sneaking a quick peek down my cleavage before looking at my face again.
“Yes, fine, sorry.” I said and walked past him into the bathroom. He stepped out. As I turned around to close the door, I noticed him checking out my butt before walking away.
I just sat on the toilet seat for a few minutes, cursing my decision to come to this party. I had nothing in common with anyone here except for my passport. Why was I voluntarily sticking around in a place where musty-brained old women asked you about your medical problems and passed judgment on your drinking within minutes of knowing you? Where do they get off? Well, none of them looked like they had gotten off in their entire sorry lives, I thought to myself and chuckled at my own joke.
A few minutes later, I composed myself and stepped out of the bathroom, resolved to find Ajit and get the hell out of there. As I walked towards the living area, I passed by the same man who had taken the chance to gently feel me up a few minutes ago. As I passed by him, he twisted his neck like a corkscrew to check me out again. I scanned the crowd and saw Ajit was in the far end of the room in a group of guys who were laughing and having a good time. I took a couple of steps towards him when,
It was a woman about my age, clad in an orange sari, standing next to a man dressed in a shervani similar to Ajit’s. She was holding a wine glass and he had a cup of chai in his hand.
“We were standing right behind you when you were with those women a few minutes ago. And we couldn’t help overhearing…”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to….”
“Those women were such….” she said, looked around and added in a whisper “total bitches to you!”
“Stupid fucking bitches!” the man next to her added in a whisper.
“I know! Thank you!” I felt so delighted to find someone sane.
“So typical! Personal questions and nasty judgments. That’s why I hate coming to these desi parties.”
“So do I.” the man said. “I’m Rahul. This is my wife Shreya.”
I shook their hands warmly, glad to meet a couple who, at least at first glance, seemed normal.
“I’m Yashodhara. My husband Ajit……….” I craned my neck to spot him again and did a double take when I saw what he was doing, “is over there across the room on his knee, for some reason swinging his arms like Luke Skywalker with a light saber.”
“If I’m not wrong, he’s demonstrating Kevin Pietersen’s switch hit technique.” Shreya said.
“You like cricket???” I said in a mock whiny voice, “Just when I thought we could be friends!”
The three of us laughed. The ice was broken. Rahul and Shreya really were an awesome normal couple. We hit it off right away. No boring conversations about green cards and calling cards. It turned out they were having a miserable time at the party as well, but had to be there because of their 5-year old who was napping on a couch next to us. The kid and his Indian friends from kindergarten were keen to see fireworks at any opportunity they could get. It was like a 2nd July 4th for them.
“Hey honey.” Ajit joined us and handed me a drink.
“There you are!” I said, giving him a quick hug. “Ajit, meet Rahul and Shreya.”
“Big fans of your Pietersen impression!” Rahul said and we all laughed.
“I do my best.” Ajit said with a mock bow. “So what are you…”
“Dude, come with me.” one of the guys Ajit was with earlier came and grabbed his arm. “They’re playing the World Cup final highlights on a massive screen!”
“Cool!” Ajit said, then threw me an inquiring look.
“Go on. I’ll be fine here.” I charitably said. Ajit has always been so wonderfully supportive of anything I like or want to do, that I don’t have the heart to stop him from anything.
“You’re the best.” he squeezed my shoulder. “Nice meeting you two. I’ll be back soon and we can talk.”
I didn’t really mind him leaving. In Rahul and Shreya, I had found company I was actually enjoying. We talked on a range of topics from the Presidential primaries to skiing and camping options to the Sopranos and molecular gastronomy. Shreya and I had a couple of drinks as we talked. Rahul, designated driver and child-watcher for the night, stuck to chai. We exchanged numbers and I knew that I had found a couple that Ajit and I would get along superbly with. I didn’t even realize when an hour passed.
Just as I was hoping to spend more time with them, providence decided I had had enough. Their son got up, started coughing, and complained about an itchy throat. Rahul felt his forehead which seemed warm. That cut their night short. They left, Rahul clasping the kid to his chest.
I finished my fourth drink of the night, and went to look for Ajit. I remembered the guy who dragged him away saying that they were gonna watch the cricket match on a big screen in some room. I made my way through the living area which appeared like there was some sort of a shift change happening. A few other couples, like Rahul and Shreya, were walking out with their sleeping kids in their arms. There was also a steady inflow of different groups of men and the occasional couple. Even with all these people, the house didn’t seem overly packed.
That’s because it was a massive house with a huge living area and many rooms. The first room I checked had a cards game in progress. The second room had a few teenagers playing video games. As I walked towards the next room, I was sure this was it. I could here sounds of cheers and cricket commentary. I poked my head in through the door. The room was absolutely packed. There were about 30 men, a handful of women and a dozen kids, all staring at the screen, watching India’s triumph in a non-athletic esoteric game for the umpteenth time. I spotted Ajit standing close to the screen clapping. His attention was on the screen, so he didn’t see me. He was clearly having a good time, so I decided to let him be and amuse myself for a while until he came back.
I felt a little peckish so I headed to the kitchen to get some food. As soon as I entered, I ran into the same nosy middle aged woman from before. She was standing with another woman her age. I looked away but she said in a tart voice,
“The liquor table is that way.”
This time I wasn’t going to let her barbs go unanswered.
“Yes, and the food is that way in case you need to hog on your fourth dinner of the night, budhiyaa (old hag).”
The two ladies looked stunned. I guess the other young women they bossed around never answered back. Normally I would never make comments about someone’s weight or their age. But with this bitch, I felt no regrets. The other fat old lady with her said,
“Some people just don’t know how to talk to elders.”
“Some elders just don’t know when to keep their kachori-holes shut.” I replied.
This made her pause too. She was thinking of saying something else when the other woman with her pulled her away saying something like “don’t waste your breath”. Winning that little battle of wits made me feel alive again. I picked up a chutney sandwich, poured myself a particularly big drink as a reward and walked out to the living area. It had gotten even more crowded. The cacophony of the conversation was getting quite shrill. I also saw some people had started playing cards, in line with the Diwali tradition of gambling for good luck.
I strolled around, eating and drinking, watching the games progress and waiting for Ajit to return. I noticed many men, now that they had downed a few drinks, checking me out more blatantly than usual. But no one tried to strike up a conversation with me. They seemed content with just staring. Most of the groups were playing teen patti, an Indian three-card poker. It’s a casual gambling game based mainly on luck. Not too much fun to watch. I moved from game to game until I saw a group of five older men playing what looked like Texas Hold ‘Em poker.
Now that’s a bit more fun to watch. The men stopped talking and looked at me as I stood there, looking at the flop.
“Hello again.” It was the cheap gray suit who had felt me up earlier when I was going to the bathroom.
“Hi.” I politely said.
“You want to join us?” an older man in a red kurta sitting next to him asked.
“No thanks. I’ll just watch.”
“Are you sure? It’s easy. We can teach you.” said a man in his 60s in a crisp white kurta. I was about to say that I knew how to play the game but didn’t want to play when,
“Listen….” a familiar voice next to me said. Not this again! It was the fat harpy from before with the woman who was in the kitchen with her and the 20 year old grandma. She glared at me and I glared back, thinking of something particularly caustic to say. But then she looked away from me and addressed the cheap gray suit in Hindi. I wasn’t surprised to learn that the repressed old creep was married to a medieval minded old biddy.
“Listen, give me the keys to the minivan. I am going home with bahu (daughter in law) to put the grandkids to bed. They’re all exhausted.”
“I’m going too so give me our keys as well.” the other older lady addressed the red kurta.
Once it was clear that she wasn’t there to start round 3 of our feud, I turned around and started walking away. I could still hear some of their conversation behind me.
“But then how will we get home if you take both cars? Why don’t you call a cab?” the red kurta said
“Do you know how much a 50 mile cab ride will cost??? Just give me the keys. We’ll be back in a couple of hours to pick you up.”
“You guys know you are always welcome to spend the night if you like. We have lots of rooms and many people are staying over. We could play poker all night!” said the white kurta. I guess he was the host. I didn’t hear the rest of the conversation because I had walked too far away by then.
I wandered around a little more, observing some more card games, and finished my sandwich and my drink. I was nicely buzzed by now, and couldn’t wait for Ajit to return. The party had run its course for me, so I wanted to leave. But the booze was also making me feel a little frisky so I was thinking about taking Ajit to one of the many rooms in this huge house and staining their sheets. And then on the drive back, maybe pull over at a rest area and stain some picnic bench.
I went back to the kitchen to get more food and another drink. I picked up a samosa and was trying to decide what to drink next.
“Hello again and again.” Cheap gray suit had sidled up next to me. His breath smelled of blended scotch.
“Enjoying party?” he asked me in English with a slight slur in his speech as he stuffed a kachori in his mouth. I couldn’t suppress a smile as flecks of the kachori crust stuck to his face.
“Why only okay? Why not great?” he asked taking another big bite of the kachori, smearing some more of it over his face. Then he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.
I shrugged, not knowing what to say.
“By the way, myself Prabhu Rastogi. Your good name?” It was a big night for arcane Indian idioms. First “issues” and now an introduction starting with Myself and a query about the “good” name.
“What a beautiful name. Pleasure to be making your acquaintance, Yashodhara.” he extended his left hand towards me. I was glad it wasn’t the Kachori stained right hand. I politely offered him my hand and his clammy hands clasped my fingers.
“Sure.” I said, and tried to pull my hand away. But his grip stayed firm.
“Your name is being as beautiful as yourself you are.” he pressed my fingers again, glanced at my cleavage and then back to my face. I was able to pull them out of his grip after a moment.
I was amused. This man was making an attempt at flirting with the charm and finesse of wheelbarrow full of sludge.
“Thank you.” I said smiling at him. He stood ogling at me for a few more moments. Maybe he was trying to see if I walked away. But I was feeling tickled by his clumsy attempts at hitting on me. I reached for a plastic cup and filled it with ice.
“How can your husband leave such a beautiful woman unattended?” he switched to Hindi, a language he was clearly more comfortable in.
I just giggled and picked up a bottle of vodka. It’s like he was reading off a bingo card of ancient cliched pick-up lines.
“Where is your husband?” he asked.
“Where is your wife?” I countered, pouring the vodka over the ice.
“My wife went home.”
“My husband…..” just as I said that, I noticed Ajit standing in the hallway outside the kitchen. He took a glance at me, smiled knowingly, and walked away. “My husband is not here.”
“Where is he?” Prabhu’s face perked up at this piece of information.
“He is….” For a moment I considered saying he was in the living room. But I was curious to see where this inglorious attempt at hitting on me was headed. I poured tonic over the vodka and said, “he is out of town.”
“Oh, that is very sad. Leaving a beautiful wife alone on Diwali nights. How do you manage?”
“How do I manage what?”
“You know……” he winked and moved really close to me. “If you need some company some night…..”
That’s when a couple of people walked in to get food and Prabhu took a step back. I used this break in the conversation to pick up my drink and slip out of the kitchen. The living area was even more packed. I was trying to spot Ajit when I smelled the familiar combination of scotch and turmeric near me again.
“I also got vodka.”
“Because you like vodka. And I like you.” he meaningfully brushed his elbow against mine.
The place we were standing in was getting really crowded. Prabhu brushed against me again. I slipped away from the area and headed to a relatively secluded corner. Prabhu followed me. From there, I could see that Ajit was seated at a card table at the other end of the hall.
“Where do you live?” Prabhu asked me, taking a big gulp of his drink.
“Where in Maple Ridge? I can visit any time.” he was making up for his lack of finesse and charm with sheer dogged persistence.
“Prabhu, there you are! We were wondering where you had disappeared.”
The red kurta and the white kurta from before were making their way towards us. Prabhu looked annoyed at this interruption in what he thought was his wooing of me. The two men stood by us and the white kurta said to me,
“Hope you are enjoying the party.” He wasn’t as creepy or leery as Prabhu. I knew he was the host, so I did the polite thing and said,
“Yes, it’s a great party. Thanks for hosting everyone. You have a lovely house.”
“Glad to be of some use to the community. My house is empty most of the time anyway. Kids are all grown up and live on the West coast. Wife passed away a few years ago. So these parties are just an excuse to relive the old days when this house was full.”
“You seem new to the area. Haven’t seen you at any other Indian events. I would’ve remembered someone like you.” The red kurta joined the conversation. He seemed to be competing with Prabhu for creepiness because he cast a not so subtle glance at my tits as he said that.
“Been here a couple of years. Just never attended an Indian event before this.”
“Myself Mohan by the way.” he extended his hand and suggestively pressed my fingers when I reciprocated. He and Prabhu seemed to be sharing a playbook.
The next ten minutes were filled with small talk as the four of us sipped our drinks standing in a circle. I learned that the three men had been in the area for a couple of decades and all owned businesses. Lalit owned a real estate company. Prabhu and Mohan, not surprisingly, turned out to be related. They were cousins and they each owned a couple of motels. I told them the basic facts about myself – no kids, work as an elementary school teacher, husband is a tech consultant etc.
“Her husband is out of town.” Prabhu added.
“What????” Mohan said with exaggerated surprise on his face. “How can he leave such a beautiful wife alone on Diwali?”
Yup, same playbook.
“You let your wife go alone, Mohan.” Lalit said.
“If my wife looked like her…..” he blatantly stared at me up and down. I noticed his eyes were red. “…. I would never leave her alone.”
Lalit seemed mildly embarrassed by the transparent innuendo in this, and tried changing the subject.
“Is that vodka you’re drinking?”
“Yes.” I said, emptying the cup.
“Me too!” Prabhu piped up. “She likes vodka. I like her. I like vodka.”
At this moment, I noticed Ajit walking about 20 feet away. He saw me and stopped.
“You like any alcohol, you drunkard. Back in India, you used to glug down even that smelly hooch.” Mohan said.
“Only what you didn’t chug down, you asshole!”
The men laughed. I smiled at the stupid banter and looked at Ajit. He gave me a meaningful smile. I could read his mind. He was thinking, there she is, scoping out some potential older lovers again. Which was partly true. I found Mohan and Prabhu to be laughable caricatures but Lalit did have that self-assured dignity I liked in older men. In some ways he reminded me of a retired school principal who had been my “Master” for a few months until he had a stroke and was out of commission. Under the right circumstances, I could see myself exploring my options with Lalit. He was a widower as well, so there wouldn’t be any complicated drama. If he asked me for my number, I would probably give it to him.
Ajit winked at me and walked away. I looked at him go longingly. The booze had gotten me somewhat drunk and I was starting to feel increasingly horny. I decided to wrap up this conversation soon and find a way to jump Ajit at the first opportunity.
“Do you like vodka a lot? Are you something of a connoisseur?” Lalit asked.
“I don’t know if I am a connoisseur per se. But yeah, I like trying different kinds of vodka.”
“Would you mind tasting a vodka my son got for me from his trip to Scandinavia? I’d like to have a second opinion on how good it is. I’m thinking of ordering a case as a gift for some of my business associates from Finland. ”
“Sure.” I’m always up for some vodka tasting.
“This way please.”
I followed him as he walked through the crowds and towards the stairs. Prabhu and Mohan were walking behind me and I could almost feel their gazes burning into my ass. Lalit led us up the stairs to an elegantly decorated “man cave” on the second floor. It had a pool table, a dart board, a big screen TV, a couple of book shelves and expensive looking leather furniture. He walked to a fridge and took out a bottle with Cyrillic writing all over it. He poured the clear liquid into four shot glasses and handed us one each.
“I always find that the best way to really imbibe a vodka’s flavors is to start with a tiny sip and then down the whole shot in one gulp.” Lalit said, raised his glass and went “Nastrovia!”
“Nastrovia!” Prabhu and Mohan downed their glasses and grimaced.
I did the same, but without the grimace.
“Verdict?” Lalit asked me.
“I like it. Like it a lot.” I said, then as he seemed to be waiting for more so I tried to read what my mouth was telling me and continued, “It’s sweet without being cloying, and the citrus flavor really shines towards the end. Hint of pepper in the aftertaste. Smooth finish.”
“You are a connoisseur after all!” Lalit said. “Try this one.”
For the next ten minutes, we each downed three more shots of different kinds of vodka he had in the fridge. None was as good as the first one. When I got up from the couch to put the last shot glass away, my head felt slightly woozy, and I dropped right back on the couch.
“Are you okay?” Prabhu immediately slid over and put his arm around my shoulder.
“Yes.” I said, surprised by how quickly he had moved.
“Are you sure?” Mohan got up off the chair he was sitting on and knelt in front of me. He put his hands on my thighs and pressed gently. To my surprise, his touch, even over the fabric, sent an odd shiver up my spine. Boy, I must have been getting really horny for my body to respond to this dirtbag’s touch, I thought to myself. It took me a couple of seconds to firm up my resolve. Lalit was standing a few feet away, watching everything with a curious look on his face.
“Yes, I’m okay!” I could hear my voice slurring more than usual as I pushed the two of them away and got up. “I just need to go to the bathroom.”
I really needed to find Ajit and go home. It would have been nice to get to know Lalit a little better, but oh well. There were other fish in the sea. I walked out of the room, and holding on to the railing for support, walked down the stairs.
With unsure footing but still able to maintain my balance, I walked through the crowded living area to try and find Ajit. I checked the kitchen, but he wasn’t there. Had he gone to watch another cricket match? I was about to go down the hallway when I spotted him walking around a corner about 30 feet away with a good looking woman in her mid 20s. I jumped into an open room and closed the door leaving just a crack open to observe what was happening without revealing myself. At first glance, it seemed like Ajit had found someone to play with. And just like he had tactfully kept his distance, it was now my turn to do the same. An appearance by the spouse is not useful when you’re trying to get into someone’s pants. Well…. it was useful to him on this one occasion in Aruba but that’s a different story. Usually, it is not.
Anyway, I stayed hidden behind the door as they walked past and caught a few snippets of the conversation.
“….and then he said if I really loved him I wouldn’t care about my grades. Only his grades!” her voice revealed that she had been drinking too. Clearly not one of Mrs. Mohan’s proteges.
“That’s so unfair!” Ajit said sympathetically.
“It’s like….his grades matter…his career matters….and I’m just in grad school to pass time. Doesn’t my career have any value? I’m smart too.”
“You are very smart. And a great person. He doesn’t know how lucky he is.”
“Oh Ajit…you’re so perfect. Your wife is so lucky and she doesn’t even realize it.”
“Yeah well, what can you do. If only she was understanding like you though. Last week, I was in a business meeting when you won’t believe what she did….”
And they walked out of earshot.
From that, it was easy to put two and two together. Ajit was in a situation he excelled in and was going through a tried and tested routine that was almost infallible. Most of the women he seduced since we “opened” our marriage had been having trouble with their husbands or boyfriends, didn’t have any close friends around, and were looking for a shoulder to cry on. Ajit, ever the great listener and conversationalist, knew exactly the right things to say without seeming too eager. He knew how to take the woman’s side and agree with her when she bitched about her man without going so far as to make her stick up for him.
The other part of Ajit’s routine was to portray me as some sort of a monster who coincidentally seemed to have traits that were similar to the errant man. If the woman’s complaint was that her man was a workaholic who never had enough time for her, I was the career-minded ice queen who had been so caught up with a work assignment that I forgot his birthday. If the man was too possessive and overbearing, I was someone who texted him 50 times a day and kept tab on his email. That time he even made me send him a few hundred needy texts over a week so he could show them to the woman he eventually bedded. And with this girl, since the problem seemed to be a guy who treated his career as more important that her’s, my guess was I was someone who was forcing him to pick up the slack by focusing on my career. It’s amazing how well this strategy worked.
Anyway, seeing Ajit have a nubile thing on the ropes changed the situation. I didn’t want to interfere with his plan by making an appearance. I decided to kill time until he came back. There were several card games in progress. I thought of watching or joining one of them when,
“Ah! There you are, Yashodhara!” Lalit walked up to me. “Everything alright?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“I hope Mohan and Prabhu didn’t cross any lines. You know how some people get when they are drunk. If you felt violated, as the host, I apologize.” he said sincerely.
“It’s okay. No harm done.” I smiled.
We just stood there staring at each other. Lalit really was a charming old man. Just my type. Since I had nothing better to do but wait for Ajit to return, maybe I should just do him? But how and where?
“A few friends and I are starting a poker game. Would you like to join in?”
What they hell, I thought. A game of poker sounded like fun.
“Why not? Which table?” I looked around the crowded living area which was beginning to resemble the cards room of a casino.
“It’s too chaotic here. We’re going to set up in the attic where it’s quieter.”
I followed Lalit back up the stairs. At the end of the hallway on the second floor, there was another staircase leading up to what must have been the attic. We walked up the stairs and entered the attic.
“Hello everyone. This is Yashodhara.” Lalit said.
The attic was fairly big, lit by a couple of dim lamps. There was a table with ten chairs around it. Six of those were filled, including Prabhu and Mohan who flashed me leery smiles. Lalit directed me to an empty chair next to Prabhu and himself sat on the other side of the table. Soon the remaining seats filled up too. Lalit made the introductions. There remaining men were a mix of young and old people either from the neighborhood or business associates of the three guys I knew.
The game was Texas Hold-Em with a buy-in of 100 dollars each. Lalit had a big poker set with several stacks of chips which he passed around. He also had next to him a trolley with many alcohol bottles. Drinks were passed around. I asked for a screwdriver. Prabhu asked for the same and gave me another of his creepy smiles, repeating his line from before.
“You like vodka, I like you, so I like vodka.”
A couple of the other men around the table smiled at his cheesy line.
For the first twenty minutes or so, the game was pretty standard. Bets were small. I won a couple of small hands. The conversation around the table was mainly about the game, and occasionally about cricket or politics. Throughout that time, Prabhu had made many more suggestive comments to me which I had shrugged off or laughed at. Some samples –
“After this, I can take you home if you like.”
“You are looking even more beautiful in this light.”
“If you want to come meet me in private, I have many motels with comfortable beds.”
A few other men were checking me out as blatantly as Prabhu and Mohan were. I overheard one of them whispering to the other, “I think she is Prabhu’s girlfriend”, maybe because he was the one monopolizing conversation with me. Lalit was pretty low on chips, so was more focused on his cards. By now there had been a few big hands and the chip count on the table was getting very uneven. I was doing pretty good by just playing the game on probability.
Then there was a hand with a flush draw in which I folded pretty early, but Lalit and a couple of other guys went all in. A guy with an ace flush won and Lalit and two others lost all chips.
“Oh well!” Lalit shrugged and got up. “I should check on the other guests anyway.”
Lalit started walking away, then turned and came to me. He asked me if I was okay. I was drunk but didn’t think I was too drunk. He asked me if I wanted to cash out and go downstairs with him. I considered it for a moment. Maybe take this charming old man to a room and see what he could do. But I was doing pretty good in the game. From what I could see, I had the second highest chip total behind Prabhu, who despite the distractions of hitting on me, was doing very well. So I told him, maybe later. With the new buy-ins, I had a chance of winning a thousand bucks.
Lalit left. The other guys hung around. And the game resumed with higher blinds. I was feeling pretty cheerful and pleasantly drunk and had even started bantering a bit with Prabhu and a couple of other guys, although within limits.
I was on my 3rd drink of the game and feeling very light-headed again when I drew a pair of pocket aces. I focused hard on the cards to make sure I really had two aces and wasn’t seeing double. I was really drunk and decided that this would be my last drink. The flop came out. King, Seven, Two. Looked good. I kept a straight face and just called the current bet, not wanting to scare anyone away. Half the table folded, including Mohan. An ace came up on the turn and I couldn’t suppress a smile. I was wondering about whether to make a big bet when Prabhu did, raising it by almost five-fold. I called.
“Ace? You have an ace?” Prabhu asked. I said nothing. “Ace in your hole?”
Prabhu mangled the idiom, probably on purpose and a couple of other guys giggled. The others folded. It was just me and my creepy new friend. I was feeling pretty confident. I was drunk but could still calculate that I had the best hand possible. A flush was no longer possible as all four cards on the table were of different suits.
The river card was a seven. Prabhu made another big bet. I looked at the cards on the table carefully as I tried to decide what my bet should be. Flush and straight were out. With the two sevens and the ace, I had a full house. Wait, was I statistically invincible? I tried to do some more calculations when the room swam in front of my eyes again. Wow, I was really drunk. I closed my eyes and tried to focus.
“Are you okay?” Prabhu put his hand on my shoulder and asked. He pressed my shoulder as he did so.
“Yeah, fine.” I opened my eyes and brushed his hand away. This guy was getting really annoying. If only he had lost all his chips. Hmm, maybe I can make that happen, I thought. I was invincible anyway.
“All in!” I said, pushing my entire stack of chips. But my hands flailed a bit and the chips scattered around the table.
There were some audibly drawn breaths around the table. No one with a chip count as high as me had gone all in yet. I looked at Prabhu. He smiled at me leerily. Chances were he would fold. He hadn’t been reckless so far. But I really hoped he would go all in. Which he did. Pushed all but five of his chips in, which was the lead he had over me. yes, another hand or two and he would be gone!
“Hahahaha!” I giggled and threw my cards down. “Full house!”
I got up and put my hands on the chips to draw them in.
“Not so fast!” Prabhu said and shoved his cards in my face. It took me a while to comprehend what had happened. He had two sevens. Four of a kind. Four of a kind beats full-house. Shit, I wasn’t invincible as I had believed in my drunken state. It was still a pretty decent risk but I had lost. I stood there stunned, bent over the table with my hands around the chips.
“Bring it all here!” Prabhu put his hands on mine and dragged them along with the huge mountain of chips towards him.
I stumbled sideways and lost my footing, my head feeling suddenly light.
“Careful!” Prabhu took his hands off mine and put them on my waist. The room spun in front of my eyes and before I knew it, I was on Prabhu’s lap. Everyone in the room was laughing.
“Let go…” I slurred and got up off his lap. But I stumbled again, and he pulled me back on his lap.
“Arre sit for a while, my darling. To the victor belongs the spills.”
“Spoils.” I remember saying before it all went dark.
I was in the attic. It was completely empty except for me and Ajit. He was sitting on a chair by the table and I was on his lap with my head resting on his shoulders. His hands were inside my salwar, fondling my ass. I could feel his erection against my thighs as I sat on him. I put one hand between my legs and rubbed his erection over his pants.
“Ummm…Ajiiiit.” I said.
“Who is Ajit? Your husband?” he responded. There was sound of laughter.
I opened my eyes and let out a small shriek. It had been a dream. I was on Prabhu’s lap, not Ajit’s. There were four other guys at the table including Mohan. There were still chips and cards on the table so the game was still going on. My salwar was untied and his left hand was inside it. His right hand was around my waist, propping me on his lap. And my hand was on the tent in his pants. I quickly pulled my hand away, but he grabbed it and put it back.
“Continue doing that, I like it.” Prabhu said and pinched my butt. The others laughed some more.
With some effort, I struggled free of his grip. His chair moved back as I got up. On my feet, I felt another headrush. I grabbed the table for support and bent down to get blood flowing to my head. I was still pretty drunk. As were the other guys from their hoots and hollers. As I stood there bent over the table, I felt my untied salwar slide down my legs.
“Are you serious?” I heard Mohan say. I raised my head and looked at him.
That’s when I realized the question wasn’t meant for me. My brain registered the sound of pants behind unzipped behind me. I felt Prabhu’s left hand raise the back of my kameez, and his right hand pull my panties down to around my thighs in one swift motion. I was too drunk to stop him as he grabbed me by my waist and plunged forward. His dick hit the inside of my thigh.
There was a sound of chairs squeaking against the floor as the other men got up in shock.
“Prabhu! What the hell!”
“Are you crazy????”
“What are you doing?”
“What the fuck!”
The four other men said and rushed towards us. As they moved Prabhu realigned his dick and shoved it inside my cunt in one swift motion. I had been feeling pretty randy all night so was reasonably moist down there. Plus I had experienced some very well hung men in the last few years and Prabhu’s was modest. He had no trouble penetrating me at all.
I stayed bent over the table, struggling with conflicting emotions. I had been repelled by Prabhu’s personality all night and the thought that he was taking advantage of me being drunk like this was outrageous. On the other hand, I had been feeling horny all night, and it felt good to finally get fucked, even if it was by this goober.
“Relax guys! She is wet. She wants it.” Prabhu said and started fucking me with rapid motions lie a dog in heat.
The men just stood around us in shock for a few seconds.
“Prabhu, she is drunk.”
“She’ll go to the police.”
“You’re raping her.”
They all protested, but no one made a move to physically free me from Prabhu’s grip which was pretty firm on my waist. Neither did I to be honest, although part of me wanted to. I liked this perverted fuck I was getting from this perverted fuck. He wasn’t much in terms of size or technique, but still, it felt good.
“She has been flirting with me all night. She wants it.” Prabhu slurred as he kept pounding my cunt and I kept my hands on the table, not resisting in any way. The motion was disturbing all the chip stacks on the table.
The men stood around in silence for another minute as Prabhu fucked me bent over the table. I kept my eyes closed and felt a sense of relief wash over me as my aching pussy was finally getting some action, although not from the dick I had expected.
“This is insane!” one of the men said.
“My turn next!” Mohan piped up, apparently reversing his earlier stance.
That’s when there was a sound of footsteps outside.
“Akash! Akash!” a woman’s voice said, coming nearer all the time.
“Shit!” one of the other men said. He sprinted back to his seat and sat there. The other three men did the same.
Prabhu also panicked at the sound of the coming intrusion. He sat down in his chair and pulled it close to the table.
“Akash, are you there?”
Just as the woman was about to enter the attic, he pulled me on to his lap. I sat there, his erect dick rubbing against my naked ass, my head lowered and eyes closed.
I wonder what would have happened if Prabhu’s seat was on the side of the attic entrance. But fortunately, it was on the far end. So when the woman walked in, she could only see me and Prabhu from the stomach upwards. So what she saw of me was my kameez was still in place, my dupatta still wrapped around my neck, and my hair and make-up still pristine.
“Is Akash….” she turned in the entrance and stopped. She sounded a little buzzed too but nowhere as drunk as I was.
“Oh hi. Akash isn’t here.” the guy closest to the entrance said. Then, thinking on his feet, he threw some chips towards the middle of the table and said, “I raise 20.”
“I call.” Mohan said, doing the same. The other two guys followed suit.
There was silence for a few seconds. I raised my head and opened my eyes. Everyone in the room was staring at me, the men with worried looks on their faces and the woman with a confused look on hers. I remembered talking to her a little early on. She was about the same age as me. Although she couldn’t see anything under the table, seeing a pretty young woman in the lap of an ugly old man isn’t the most common sight at Indian parties.
This was the moment of reckoning. If I wanted, I could have created a ruckus, asked her to call everyone else, call 911, call the marines. I could have had Prabhu locked up for a long time. He knew it because he was absolutely still and breathing hard. The only part of him that moved was his erect dick, gently throbbing against my ass.
I made the decision. Still woozy, I moved forward a little. Picked up Prabhu’s cards and looked at them without registering what they were.
“I think we should also call.” I slurred, then looked at the woman and smiled. Then I closed my eyes, and leaned back, resting my head on Prabhu’s shoulder.
“Yes, yes, we should.” Prabhu said and threw a couple of chips into the stack.
The next guy pulled out another card and placed it next to the flop. Everyone tried very hard to pretend like they were looking at their cards.
“If…if Akash comes here, please tell him his wife is looking for him.” she said and left.
As the sound of her footsteps receded, everyone let out a big sigh of relief. There was also some laughter.
“You’re right Prabhu, she does want it.” one of the men got up and said.
“Sit where you are and keep playing!” Mohan said sharply. “Someone else might come in.”
He sat down and they got back to the charade of playing the game. Although my eyes were closed, I could sense Prabhu smiling. I had effectively given him carte blanche. So he decided to continue with it. He put his palms under my ass cheeks and lifted them up. I put my hand down and guided his dick back into my cunt. And our fucking resumed.
“I’ve hit the jackpot while playing poker!” Prabhu said and everyone else laughed.
I kept my eyes closed as I got fucked by him for a minute or so more in that position. Then men made comments about how hot I was, what a whore I was, and other such things, and kept playing the game. Soon Prabhu folded, wrapped his arms around my stomach and started thrusting into me really hard. And within a few seconds, I sensed his dick starting to shoot his jizz inside me. He also groaned while doing so.
“Have you seen how hot she is? It’s a wonder I lasted this long.”
“It’s a wonder you can still get it up.”
There was some more bawdy talk as the hand ended. My cunt and thighs were feeling very sticky. I slid off Prabhu’s lap. he was done fucking me anyway, so he didn’t try to pin me back. I stood next to him with my eyes partly open, my panties and my salwar bunched around my ankles. I was partly conscious, but still a little disoriented. And still quite horny. So I didn’t resist what happened next.
“My turn.” the guy to Prabhu’s right got up and moved towards me.
“No, mine.” Mohan said. “I won the hand. So it’s my turn.”
“Those are the new rules. Whoever wins a hand gets her. Hey, come here.” he said and I saw him untie his pyjama knot.
He obviously knew he was overplaying his hand with me. I had gotten caught up in the moment, and had even helped them cover up what was happening once. But I had been fucked once. If I wanted, I could just pull up my clothes, and walk out of there, giving them all an earful as I did so. He knew that so although he spoke with some bravado, he looked uncertain.
But by then, I had decided I liked this game. Prabhu’s fuck had been decent in a spontaneous perverted way, but other than that it was quite ordinary. And my sexual appetite was now whetted. I always liked playing the submissive anyway.
I kicked off my salwar and my panties. And obediently walked towards Mohan. When I reached him, I saw that he was holding a dick that was a lot thicker than Prabhu’s. He raised the back of my kameez, and pulled me into his lap. I guided his dick into my cunt, moaned in pleasure, and then leaned back against his chest. And now Mohan started fucking me as he also dealt the cards.
“Three of a kind! Hand her over!” one of the other guys said a few minutes later when that hand was done.
“Wait, I am not finished yet.” said Mohan who was gently thrusting his dick into me throughout.
“You’re the one who made the rules.” the winner complained. “Want to finish? Win another hand.”
“Fair is fair.” Prabhu said and laughed.
“Easy for you to say. You cum before even the flop is out.”
They all laughed. Mohan agreed though and reluctantly pushed me off his lap. I walked to the new guy who was unzipped and ready for me. His dick was average sized. But as I started to lower myself onto him, he said,
“Wait!” and started pushing up my kameez.
“What are you doing?”
“I want to see her tits, man.”
“No way!” Mohan said, again taking charge. “The last time we got away with it because she looked normal above the waist.”
“Oh come on! You think that will save us again?”
“We should still be cautious. Don’t kill the goose that lays the golden eggs.”
“Okay fine, but I am at least going to get a good look at her amazing ass again.”
I let him turn me around and raise the back of my kameez. My ass was in full view of everyone. I even bent forward in the waist to make it jut out. Everyone sighed and murmured in appreciation. My current owner grabbed my ass cheeks and shook them a couple of times. And then lowered me onto his dick.
“How do you like it?” he asked as he grabbed my boobs and started fucking my now very wet cunt. I said nothing. Just moaned.
He had been fucking me for only a couple of minutes when there was the sound of multiple footsteps outside.
“Shit! Someone else is coming.” the guy fucking me said and stopped thrusting.
“Relax, it’s just some friends of mine. I texted them.” another guy said.
“What? Are you insane?” Mohan said. I shared his annoyance. What we were doing was scandalous enough without inviting more people in.
But it was too late. Three more guys came bounding in. They looked at me and laughed. Mohan was losing control of the situation. One of them said I was an amazing whore and tried to fondle my boobs as I was getting fucked. So Mohan said if they wanted a turn they had to buy in and join the game. Which they did.
Word must have started spreading because soon, there was a steady trickle of guys coming into the attic. There were a lot of hoots and hollers until Mohan scolded everyone to keep it down. Soon all the seats at the table were taken and there were more guys milling around hoping to get a chance too.
Pretty soon, I was getting fucked by my 7th dick of the night. Three of them, apart from Prabhu, had come inside me. One of them had won three hands in a row, and didn’t have to hurry. So that was the fuck I enjoyed the most. It also helped that his dick was quite big. I was also being plied with drinks constantly. I guess the men feared that if I sobered up, I would cry foul. I needed the drinks to keep my nerves calm anyway. As adventurous as I am, being a whore for a horny horde of men was pretty out there for me as well.
A while later, Lalit came in. He seemed outraged at first and then concerned that I was being forced. But when it became obvious to him that I was a willing, even enthusiastic participant, he joined in. Since he was the host, the players gave him the courtesy of fucking me even though he was no longer in the game. As the night went on, every dick that fucked me made me horny for more. Probably because I was use to prolonged fucking with good technique from my other lovers. Here, I was just being used like a fuck toy for a few minutes every time. I was aching for an orgasm, but so far no one had displayed the technique for that.
And so the fucking continued. I even started taking an interest in the game again as things continued, occasionally holding the cards and making the bets on the behalf of my then-fucker as they focused on fucking me. The audience around the table had by now swelled to a couple of dozens, and guys were taking turns standing guard at the door to make sure no wives were coming. I was a bit freaked out by the size of the audience, and was constantly afraid this would turn into one massive gangbang instead of the mostly orderly manner in which it was proceeding. I avoided looking anywhere but at the table. At one point I wondered if Ajit was in the crowd or if he was still having his way with that young woman he had been working on earlier. But I didn’t want to make eye contact with anyone.
I kept getting handed from winner to winner. And I kept drinking. As I staggered from one dick to the other, often someone would raise my kameez and display my ass and cunt to the room. This led to occasional oohs and aahs. But by and large, the order was maintained. Mohan had managed to get everyone to accept him as the voice of authority. All men were mostly well behaved, waiting for a win to get access to me. There were a couple of minor disturbances during the mostly orderly transitions. I didn’t mind any of them but Mohan stopped almost all of them.
One guy, very drunk, was very keen on taking off my kameez. I wouldn’t have minded it but on Mohan’s orders, he was physically restrained. Another made me sit facing him as we fucked but after a few seconds, Mohan put a stop to it and made me turn around the usual way. A third bit my ass very hard and I let out a squeal although I didn’t really mind it. But Mohan gave him a sharp dressing down.
One young man started fingering my clit while he fucked me. I had been craving that for a while, given my utter lack of orgasms that night. So while I had largely kept silent while I was being fucked, I started moaning in pleasure when he started expertly teasing my clit. But I must have moaned too loudly because everyone noticed it and Mohan sternly made him stop. I was disappointed and shot Mohan a look of displeasure, which seemed to annoy him. The young man came quickly though and soon shot his wad inside my overflowing cunt.
As it happened, Mohan won the next hand. I was about to follow protocol and move to his lap again when he reached and yanked me by my dupata hard. The dupatta strangled me for a second and I fell to the floor on all fours. I stayed like that for a couple of seconds, a little annoyed but also turned on by Mohan’s forceful behavior. Within limits, I actually enjoyed being treated roughly and humiliated by dominant men. I marveled at how I had focused my attention on Lalit earlier and been repelled by Mohan. But at this stage, it was Mohan in whom I saw most potential of something that could continue past tonight.
As I was thinking about it and the room was laughing and ogling at my ass, Mohan pulled me by the dupatta again.
“Come on, get up!” he growled.
I got up, staggering, submissive on instinct. I sat down on his lap, but he didn’t put the dick in my cunt.
“You glared at me, you filthy whore.” he whispered in my ear. “Let me show you who is in charge.”
His berating turned me on even more. And I was pleased by what he was trying to do. I realized that his hand was trying to position his dick against my asshole. He wanted to bugger me. I didn’t mind. It took him a while to get it right but finally, for the first time that night, a dick went up my ass. It felt slightly uncomfortable, although I had been fucked in the ass by bigger dicks before. But the first time in a night always feels that way. I grabbed the table and grimaced as Mohan started pounding my asshole.
The others noticed this difference in my behavior from other times when I just leaned back against the men’s chests and got fucked. One of the men asked what was happening.
He just smiled and started singing,
“Gaand mein danda rey, gaand mein danda rey”
Which meant there was a stick up my ass. Everyone laughed. This time, maybe because of the relative tightness of my ass, Mohan came before the hand was up. Now my asshole, like my cunt, has full of jizz.
Another hour went by and I lost count of the number of different dicks that had been inside me. A couple of guys followed Mohan’s lead and fucked me in the ass as well, one of them Prabhu. I was starting to get a little tired but was still craving that elusive orgasm. Previously, during some of my BDSM adventures, my “masters” had deprived me for orgasms for much longer. But that was by design.
I was being fucked in the cunt by my umpteenth dick when someone said,
“Some wives are coming!”
I was pushed off the lap and told me to hide under the table and not say anything. A couple of guys whistled at the way my ass moved when I crawled under there. There was a knock on the door and
“What’s going on here? What’s the smell?” I recognized the voice of Prabhu’s wife as I sat silently under the table.
“Just playing cards.” Mohan nonchalantly said.
“Let’s go home. It’s too late.”
“Alright.” Mohan said. I saw him reach into his pocket and take out a business card and drop it on the floor for me.
“You too!” I recognized this voice all too well. Prabhu’s voice, the woman who had hassled me earlier in the night. Look at the irony. Now her husband was the one who had set off this chain of events by forcing himself on me. Wouldn’t it be amazing if she found out what was happening?
An evil idea struck me and I acted on it right away. I crawled quickly to where Prabhu was sitting and unzipped his pants. I felt him freeze as I grabbed his dick.
“Hmmm?” he managed to respond.
“Let’s go!” his evil wife said sternly.
I moved my face forward and started sucking his dick. I also recognized the symmetry of the fact that Prabhu’s dick was now entering my third orifice that night. I started sucking it with all my effort and it hardened instantly.
“Yeah yeah…in a minute.” Prabhu said, whispering with some effort.
“Now!” the old biddy yelled.
I was delighted at this little prank I was playing, risking exposure by putting Prabhu in this uncomfortable position. As I continued sucking his dick, I also cupped his balls with my hand. He was about ready to yell.
“Yeah, just a…..moment. You go ahead. I will down in a minute.” he said, barely managing to get the words out.
I was sure that the domineering old bitch would come there, drag him off, and see that her beloved husband had his dick in my mouth. But luckily for him, she just said,
“Okay, I’ll be downstairs. Come down soon.”
I increased the pressure on his glans with my lips hoping to make him cum while she was still in the room. But as it happened, he started cumming just after she left. Some people who saw what I was doing started laughing. I took his jizz in my mouth, and true to habit, swallowed it. Prabhu let out a sigh of relief and zipped up his pants.
“What a delightfully naughty whore this woman is.” Prabhu said patting me on the cheek and got up. I heard him walk away and then walk back.
“I have to see something!”
He said and then I saw him get on all fours and crawl under the table with his typical leery smile on his face.
He advanced towards me like a hulky bear and I instinctively slid back. But he caught up with me and started tugging at my kameez. I squealed and asked him what he was doing.
“I have to see those tits before I go.” he said, tugging at my kameez.
“Yes okay….” I said, “but it’s buttoned.”
He didn’t seem to heard what I said and was too busy tugging at the fabric. It was bunched up and stuck under my boobs. I managed to reach past his grip and undo a couple of the buttons in the back. Now his tugging had the effect he desired, and the kameez slid off my body with some effort.
He advanced towards me again and shoved his left hand in my wet cunt.
“I knew from the moment I saw you that you’re a whore.”
He then struggled with the clasp of my bra, undid it, and pulled it off too. Breathless with his effort, he sat back. I was now naked except for the dupatta still wrapped around my neck. He stared at my tits lustily.
“Beautiful!” he said and laughed. Then he crawled out from under the table, my kameez and bra in his hand. I sincerely hope he wouldn’t take them with him as souvenirs. It would make leaving the place slightly difficult.
When he stood up, there were some cheers at the sight of my clothes because now it meant I was completely naked. Would this strip away any illusion of sanity and turn this into a no-hold-barred gangbang? Part of me actually wanted it. I hadn’t had one orgasm all night. Maybe some real fucking without this card game charade could make it happen.
I saw the clothes land in a corner. Phew! And then as I sat there naked with my hands wrapped around my knees, from the corner of my eye, I saw Ajit’s face peer down from the edge of the table. I wondered how long he had been there. I am sure he had loved watching the events unfold. I was about to say something to him when a few other faces appeared, taking in my nudity. I decided against publicly identifying Ajit as my husband. No need for uncomfortable questions.
As it happened, the break in events didn’t lead to an all-out orgy. In fact it turned into a tamer version of what was happening before. The remaining guys decided that since Prabhu seemed to enjoy the blowjob so much, and almost everyone in the room had fucked me anyway, the prize should be a blowjob. As the game started again, I sat there masturbating and quickly brought myself off to a minor orgasm.
A few minutes later, there was a winner. I saw him push his chair back, take his dick out and whistle as if I were a dog. I crawled towards him and poked my head out. I saw a crowd of guys (including Ajit) gathered around him to watch the blowjob. Now that Mohan had left, there was no one left to take precautions.
“Move ahead.” I said, preferring the privacy of the table now that I was naked except for the dupatta. And my mangalsutra. If some other wives or god forbid kids walked in, I didn’t want to be out there on full display.
“You move ahead.” said the guy.
I shook my head and hoped I wouldn’t have to reason with him. I didn’t. he shrugged and moved forward with his chair. He did it a little too fast and SMACK! His erect dick slapped me on the cheek making a loud noise. Everyone laughed as did I. I started sucking the dick which was surrounded by a thick foliage of pubic hair. I don’t insist that men be shaved but a little trim never hurt anyone, I thought as I had to keep spitting his pubic hair out. It didn’t take too long for him to cum and I swallowed it again. Someone handed me a glass of booze and I chugged it down to wash away the taste of semen.
With Mohan gone, the rest of the men didn’t see any point in actually playing the game. I heard Lalit declare that the game was over and he was cashing out the chips. I stayed under the table and men took turns getting blowjobs. I drank about a dozen shots of cum and a handful shots of booze for the next hour or so. My jaw had started hurting and I was tempted to crawl out and ride someone. But I was completely naked and someone could have still walked in. Although to be honest, there wasn’t much weight in that pretense anymore. In truth, I just like following orders.
Soon the party winded down. Most of the guys had left. No one else was shoving a dick in my face so I guess I had drained them all out. After sitting there naked for a while, I crawled out. I looked around and was surprised to see Ajit wasn’t there. There were a couple of whistles from the remaining handful of men. Lalit smiled at me warmly. their eyes hungrily followed my naked body as I walked around the attic picking up my clothes and got dressed. I made sure to pick up Mohan’s card and slip it in my purse.
I picked up my phone and was about to text Ajit when he walked in. I looked at him without any sign of recognition, hoping that he would take the hint and not identify me as his wife. Through all my adventures, I have been reluctant to let my partners know that my husband is in on it. I think it could lead to unnecessary complications.
I gave Ajit a slight nod and started walking out of the attic, waving a goodbye at Lalit. None of the men with him had been around when this game originally started. I couldn’t even remember what each of their dicks looked like. They all said goodbye effusively and asked for my number but I just smiled and walked away.
I waited in the living room for a minute when Ajit came down too. I really wanted to jump him right then and there, but I was too tired. Maybe after a couple of hours. We walked out to the car.
“Happy Diwali Ajit.” I wished my wonderful husband and fell asleep.Post Views :3268