“Fahim, now take the next left. And then it’s the third house on the right.” I said, giving directions to the new driver the company had just assigned me.
“Ok, sir.” he said, and turned left.
“This is my house. This is where you are to pick me up from every morning at 830 a.m. sharp.” I said. He nodded.
The door to my house opened, and out ran my 8 year old son Pintu, yelling, “Papa! Papa!”. He was followed by my wife, Ketaki, looking beautiful as always, with a happy smile on her face.
“So Samir, how was Bangalore?” she asked, opening the gate for Pintu, who jumped into my arms.
“Ooof.” I said picking up my son. “Bangalore was, well, boring as usual. By the way, this is my new driver…”1*9
“Fahim!” my wife completed my sentence with a surprised look on her face, as she stared at the driver.
I turned around to see Fahim staring back at her with a similar expression on his face, and he said,
“Ketaki….” he said, and after a pause of around 3 seconds, added, “madam.”
“You two know each other?” I asked, surprised.
“No.” my wife said hastily shaking her head. Then she changed it to a vigorous nod and said, “I mean, yes. We were….he was….I mean…”
“Her grandparents lived in the same village as me.” Fahim jumped in.
“Yes, the village. You know my late Nana-Nani, who passed away before we got married? He lived in the same village.” Ketaki said, regaining the calm that she had seemingly lost.
“Oh, small world then. He is going to be my driver. Pick me up, drive me around the city for sales calls, and so on.” I said, shifting Pintu to the other arm.
“That’s nice.” Ketaki said. “Umm….everything okay in the village?”
“Yes, madam. It’s all fine.” he said, then turned to me and said, “I should get going, sir. I’ll be here tomorrow morning.” and without even waiting for my permission, put the engine in gear and drove off.
“What did you bring me from Bangalore, papa?” Pintu repeated his demand once more.
“Oh, come on in, and I’ll show you.” Pintu on one arm, and my suitcase in another, I walked into the house.
A few hours later, after Pintu had tired of playing with the toys I bought for him from Kids Kemp and fallen asleep in his room, a tired Ketaki joined me in bed. She was dressed in her usual nightly attire of sweatpants and a tshirt. She snuggled up close to me and said,
“I missed you, Samir.”
“I missed you too, Ketaki.” I said, and kissed her.
After making out for some time, and cuddling, I put my hand inside her sweatpants and fondled her ass. More in hope than anything else, because she did seem very tired. Our frequency of sex had dropped drastically as Pintu was growing up, because he was quite a handful, and tending to him all day exhausted Ketaki. So after a three day trip when I wasn’t home to help her out with him, I was expecting her to be as tired as a marathon winner. So I was surprised when she responded by starting to unbutton my shirt. Wow, I said to myself happily, we were going to have sex! And in a flash, took her t-shirt off.
Fifteen passion-filled minutes later, we were lying on the bed, naked and breathless in each others’ arms.
“Wow, you were….” I said, trying to find the right words, ” you were amazing tonight, like a starved animal.”
“Hehe.” Ketaki giggled, and put her head on my chest. “I missed you.”
We lay like that for a few minutes, when a thought popped into my head. When it popped in, it was completely innocent. And what I said was more intended for casual conversation than anything else.
“So you and Fahim have known each other for years, huh?” I asked.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Ketaki suddenly raised her head and looked at me with a mildly upset expression on her face.
“What? Nothing. Just talking about how you two knew each other. From the village, remember?” I said.
Ketaki looked at me for a brief moment and said, “Yeah, it was a small village. Everyone knows everyone.”
“Yes, I am sure. Also…” I started saying something when,
“Sameer, I am sleepy. Good night.” she just turned around and closed her eyes.
I was a little puzzled, but didn’t make too much of it. I was tired as well. Within a few minutes, I was asleep.
A week or so later is when the first seeds of doubt were planted in my mind. I had forgotten to take my lunch box with me, a fact I noticed only around 11 a.m. or so. I had kept it under the dining room table as I had breakfast, so even Ketaki must not have noticed. So I called her up.
“Ketaki, I forgot my lunch box. I think it’s under the dining table.”
“Let me see.” she said. “Yes, I see it.”
“Okay. I’ll send Fahim to pick it up.”
“What?” Ketaki said in a panicky voice.
“I said I will send Fahim to pick it up.”
“No no no. Don’t do that.” she said.
“Umm….I will bring it to you.”
“You? Why do you want to take the effort? I’ll send Fahim over.”
“Sameer, NO!” she said emphatically, and I was taken aback. Then in a softer voice she said, “I have to get some shopping done near office anyway. And Pintu is at school right now, so I was thinking of going there. So I’ll just drop it off myself.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, confused.
“Yes. I’ll just change and come. I’ll leave the lunch box at your reception.” she said and hung up.
I stared at the phone in confusion. And started wondering what the hell that was about.
That’s when I started thinking about this in depth. The way she had abruptly ended the conversation that night I returned from Bangalore, when I started talking about Fahim. The way Fahim first just said “Ketaki” when he saw her, and after a long pause, added the “madam”. Add to it the fact that when I had the old driver, Ketaki would accompany me to the car every morning and kiss me goodbye. Since Fahim took over, she stopped coming out of the house when I was leaving for work. Even in the evening when I returned, she wouldn’t come out to the gate with Pintu like she used to.
All this led to just one conclusion – Fahim and Ketaki had some sort of a history, something that went beyond being just acquaintances from the village. Something Ketaki had not told me. And did not seem to want to tell me.
That night, after Pintu went to sleep, I sat on the living room couch and asked Ketaki to join me.
“Honey.” I said, making sure I picked the right words. “I was puzzled by your insistence today that I not send Fahim to pick up the lunch box.”
“Oh, I was just….I was coming there anyway.” Ketaki said.
“Come on, Ketaki. We have been married ten years. I know there’s some other reason.”
Ketaki sighed and looked at me. Her shoulders dropped, and she said,
“Sameer, just ask what you really want to ask.”
“Alright….was there any history between you and Fahim?” I asked.
“Well.” she said, searching for words, “kind of. I should have told you this the day you returned from Bangalore.”
“Tell me what?” I asked, now really curious.
“Fahim and I, we…..well….we sort of dated for a while.” she said, her blood rushing to her white cheeks.
“Dated?” I sat up straight. “In what way?”
“Nothing happened. I mean, nothing physical.” she said. “Maybe I should start at the beginning.”
“Yes, please do.” I said.
“Okay, so, we used to keep going to the village in the summer vacations every other year to visit my grandparents. Since I was a little kid. Fahim’s father used to own an auto-rickshaw, the only rickshaw in the village. So he was the one who always came to pick us up from the closest railway station, about 30 km away. And he used to take Fahim with him during the vacations when there was no school. So I have known Fahim since we were kids.”
“And you know how it is in tiny villages. We used to play together as kids. Almost all the kids in the village played together, whether they were related to the school headmaster, like my grandfather, or the rickshaw driver, like Fahim’s father. So Fahim and I were like friends. Played together every time I visited, with other kids.”
“Things sort of changed after I hit puberty. When the village customs meant that boys and girls at that age could not mingle together. But I was from the city, went to a co-ed school, so these restrictions didn’t make sense to me. I used to still hang out with them until I was 16 or so, playing cricket, gilli-danda, and so on. My grandfather didn’t mind, nor did my parents. All these were kids they had known for years.”
“So when did the “dating” start?” I asked.
“I’m coming to that. Ever since I….well….I developed breasts and got curves on my body, I had been getting attention from boys in school in the city. In the village, it was Fahim alone. Some time in my teens, I forget exactly when, he started talking about us eventually getting married and all. He didn’t exactly “flirt”, but was very loving in his behavior towards me. I always laughed it off. To me, he was always little Fahim, my playmate.”
“Little Fahim?” I butted in. Fahim was hardly “little”. The man was like an oak, well over six feet tall, and a well-built body.
“Well, yeah.” Ketaki blushed. “Things changed when we were both 18. Over the course of just one year, he went from being a scrawny little kid to a tall, well-built, good looking young man. And suddenly, all his talk about us being meant for each other, started having an effect on me. And that was the summer that we, well, sort of dated.”
“I see.” I coldly said.
“It was harmless. He would write urdu poetry for me. Sing songs. We would spend time together, taking walks and staring at the river. We would talk about…..” she blushed some more, “we would talk about getting married, having two kids, raising one as Hindu and the other as Muslim.”
“And nothing. It ended as innocently as it started. The vacations ended, and I went back. We promised to write to each other, meet again. But back in the city, I realized the huge gap between him and me. He was an auto-rickshaw driver’s son who was going to start driving a rickshaw himself after class 12. I was going to college. Our paths were just different. So a couple of months later, I ended it in a letter. And after that, I always made excuses to not go to the village during vacations. Then my grandparents moved to Delhi to live with my uncle. And there was no need to even make excuses anymore.”
“So after that summer, this is the first you have seen him?” I asked.
“Yes. After..gosh…after 16 years!”
“Hmmm. So when you two were dating, did you two…..”
“No! God, no! I have already told you about the two guys I slept with before you – both ex boyfriends. With Fahim, it never went beyond….” she paused and said, “holding hands. We were too….innocent.”
“So now you see why I feel awkward even facing him? The last time I met him, I made promises of eventually marrying him. Now, 16 years later, he is working for the guy i ended up marrying instead.”
“Hmm, yes, I understand.”
We just sat there silently for a few seconds.
“Couldn’t you change drivers? Swap Fahim with someone else in the office.” Ketaki implored.
“Okay, I’ll see what I can do.” I said.
Or at least it ended our conversations about the topic. Over the next few days, the seed of suspicion in my mind started growing. Had Ketaki been completely honest with me? Wasn’t it too much of a coincidence that of all the cars in all the world, this guy had been assigned to mine as a driver? What if he had come here searching for her? Ketaki had always been a gorgeous little minx. Having Pintu had only accentuated her figure. Her boobs had gone from C to D cups. Her ass had grown, but not obscenely so. It retained its heavenly shape, only added a layer or two. And her waist, slightly thicker than when we got married, was still in control, giving her a well-padded but still hourglass figure. She was still worth lusting after, and I feared Fahim might have come to lust after her. Especially if they had more of a history than she told me.
Did she go farther with him than she had told me? The other guys she had told me about had come later, when she was in college. Which meant Fahim was her first boyfriend. Did she still have feelings for him? Is that why she was so awkward around him?
I tried in vain to bury all these doubts. Finally I decided I needed to verify the truth somehow. But how? I could not just ask Fahim point blank if he had come here looking for her. I could of course change drivers. I decided to eventually do that. But first, I hatched what was a very weird and clumsy scheme to figure out if Ketaki had been telling the truth. And this is how the scheme unfolded.
Two weeks later, after lunch, I took out a bunch of files from my cabinet. Then I called Fahim to my office,
“Fahim, I need to work on these files at home tonight. But I have to go for a meeting later, in Mr. Shah’s car. So I need you to just drop off these files at my home right now.”
“Right now?” he asked.
“Will anyone be home?” he asked.
“Yes, my wife Ketaki will be home. I’ll call and tell her to expect you.”
“Okay, sir.” Fahim picked up the files and left the office. I then called up Ketaki.
“Ketaki, I will be late today. I need to go meet a client with Mr. Shah. In fact I am headed towards a meeting right now and will be in meetings till later. And I may not be able to have dinner at home.”
“Okay, Samir.” she said.
I then told the receptionist that I would be busy in an important call, so was not to be disturbed. And I shut the door to my office, and sat in front of the computer. I put the headphones on and turned the monitor on. My living room came into view and I could hear Ketaki humming some song out of the camera’s view.
Yes, in a display of extreme creepiness and paranoia, I had set up the workstation in our living room with a webcam and a powerful omnidirectional mic. I had woken up early before Ketaki to set it up. I had hooked up the webcam and the mic to a chat client. Then I did a remote login to my office computer, and started the same chat client from there on another ID. And that’s how I had a direct video and audio feed of whatever was happening in my living room. I had turned the monitor off, and told Ketaki that something was wrong with the display, so she should use her laptop if she needed to check email.
With the headphones on, and my eyes on the screen, looking at the empty furniture in my living room, I waited for Fahim to eventually show up. My house was about half an hour away from office, so it would be another 20 minutes or so before Fahim turned up at my door. I spent those twenty minutes just staring at the screen. Ketaki passed by the screen a couple of times, humming a song like she always did. She was wearing a shin-length skirt that she often wore at home, and a t-shirt.
As the minutes ticked by, I started panicking a little. What if Ketaki found out I had gone to all these lengths to snoop on her? What if she had been telling the truth? Maybe I should just call this whole thing off. I vacillated between self-doubt and guilt as the time passed. And finally, after several minutes of tension, the doorbell chimed in my headphone. And I watched Ketaki stride past the screen, towards the door.
The door was just outside the view of the camera, so I could only heard the voices for a while.
“What are you doing here?” Ketaki asked in Hindi in a worried voice.
“Sir told me to drop off these files.” Fahim replied, also in Hindi, in a very flat voice.
“What?” I heard her voice going higher.
“Sir told me to drop off these files.” Fahim repeated himself.
“He didn’t say anything to me when he called a while back.”
There was silence for a few seconds.
“Come in. I’ll call Samir.” Ketaki walked towards the phone on the table which was in view of the camera, followed by Fahim who was holding the huge stack of files very effortlessly. I reached for my cellphone. Within a few seconds, my cellphone started ringing. I pressed the silent button.
“He is not answering. Is probably in a meeting.” she said. “Okay, just put them on the dining table over there.”
Fahim walked out of the camera’s view, and Ketaki just stood near the phone, fidgeting with her hands, staring in his direction. A few seconds later, Fahim came back into view.
“Do you……want some water?” Ketaki tentatively asked.
“Yes, that would be nice.” Fahim said.
“Have a seat.”
Fahim sat down on the couch right opposite to the webcam, facing the screen. He looked around the living room curiously. Ketaki returned with a tray that had a glass of water and a glass of orange juice.
“Have some juice as well.” she said, placing the tray on the coffee table in front of him. She sat down on the couch with a couple of feet of space between them.
“Very nice house you have here. And a very cute son as well. And a nice husband. You have a great family, Ketaki.” Fahim said politely, and I started leaning towards thinking that I had been too paranoid after all.
“Thanks. Do you have….are you…..” Ketaki stammered.
“Married? Yes. Two wives. Five kids. Three live with my first wife in the village. Two live here with my second wife and me.” Fahim said.
“You have two wives?” Ketaki said, sounding surprised. Indian law allows Muslims to have up to four wives.
“Yeah, well, you know me.” Fahim said and started laughing. Ketaki smiled. That confused me a little. What did he mean by ‘you know me’.
Fahim finished off the water and picked up the juice glass and leaned back.
“But Ketaki, I must say.” he said, taking a sip of the juice, “Neither of those two compare to you.”
“Fahim!” Ketaki said, sounding a little upset.
“It’s the truth, sweetheart. There was never anyone before or after you that matched up.” Fahim said, and then added, “In every way possible.”
“Fahim, you can’t talk to me like that!” Ketaki said admonishingly, “I am a married woman, a mother….I am your boss’s wife for god’s sake!”
Fahim moved on the couch until he was right next to her, brought his face close to hers and said,
“I am just speaking from the heart.” he said, and then tried to put his hand on her hand. She slapped it away and got up.
“I think you should go.”
“I am just talking, Ketaki!” Fahim said, also getting up.
“Just leave, Fahim, or I’ll tell Samir.”
“Tell him what?” Fahim said and laughed. “Have you told him about us?”
“Really? You have told him EVERYTHING about us?” Fahim said,
“I have told him enough.” Ketaki said, folding her arms emphatically. What did that mean? She had told me “enough” but not everything?
“Haha, still folding your arms in that adorable way. You haven’t changed a bit in ten years, Ketaki.” Fahim said. That rang another bell in my head – ten years? I thought Ketaki said it had been sixteen years. Ten years was how long we had been married.
“You seem to have gotten a lot more obnoxious though.” Ketaki said defiantly.
“Ouch.” Fahim said, putting his hand on his heart, feigning an injury, “This is one thing you have that no other woman does. Your attitude. Your sharp tongue.”
“Fahim, I am…” Ketaki started saying, but suddenly he took to rapid steps, and in a flash had her in his embrace. And had put his lips on hers.
Ketaki struggled, but my 5’3″ wife was no match for his hulk-like strength. I watched, awestruck as my driver continued to kiss my wife. Sirens of panic were going off in my head. He was forcing himself on her. I should do something. Maybe call home. That would put a stop to this.
I reached for my cellphone and was about dial my home number when I saw the scene on the screen change. My wife had stopped struggling and now had her hands around his back. She was no longer being forced into the kiss, but was a willing, even enthusiastic participant. I watched, undeniably angry as well as turned on, as the kiss continued. The fire of fury in my head was matched only by stirring in my loins. What was wrong with me, I wondered. I was watching a man kiss my wife, and I was feeling turned on? I finally sorted out of my feelings and was about to dial the home number, when I saw Ketaki finally break the kiss and push him away. This time, he let go.
“Damn it, Fahim!” she said, sounding angry. “Why did you have to do that?”
Fahim laughed in response, and then said,
“Just as I thought. It’s the same story as with those college boyfriends of yours. When I had to come to Delhi every few months to satisfy you on the side.”
“No, this is different!” Ketaki almost screamed. “Samir is the best, He is perfect. He is not like those idiots.”
“Isn’t he? Then why did you…”
“Just get out, Fahim. Get out at once.” this time Ketaki did scream.
“Alright, alright. Calm down. I’m going.” Fahim said and started walking away.
Ketaki plonked herself on the couch, put her face in her hands, and started crying. I heard the door click shut as Fahim left. As I watched my wife cry her heart out, I was overcome with a sense of guilt. I was responsible for this. I had orchestrated this whole situation, even when she had specifically told me she didn’t want to meet him. So what if she gave in to desire and kissed him? If I met again the girls I had a crush on in high school, and got an opportunity to, who is to say I wouldn’t have done the same? Overcome with guilt, I decided to call up Ketaki. Console her. Maybe even apologize. But how could I do that without giving away the fact that I had set up this whole situation to spy on her? Maybe she’d tell me herself. Would she?
My train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing again. Ketaki quickly wiped her face with her sleeve and said,
“Who is it?”
There was no answer.
“Who is it?” she repeated.
Still no answer. She clucked her tongue, got up and went towards the door. I heard the door open. A few seconds later, I heard the door close.
I could hear some muffled noises for a while. A good minute or so, there was no one on the screen. And then I was Fahim walk into view triumphantly, carrying my wife in his arms. And the two of them were kissing. He walked past screen, when I heard Ketaki’s voice say off-camera.
“No no, don’t.” the relief of hearing my wife refuse his advances lasted only half a second, because then she said, “The couch. Take me to the couch.”
Fahim came into view again, and he gradually lowered her down on to the couch. My wife propped herself up by the elbows as she lay on the couch, watching Fahim as he stood straight. He unbuttoned his shirt, took it off, and threw it on the floor. He then took off his wifebeater and threw it on the floor as well, revealing a hairy muscular chest. I felt a pang of jealousy as my wife let out a moan of delight at the sight of his chest. I was not unfit by any means. I exercised regularly. But I was no match for Fahim’s body.
Barechested, he got on his knees next to the couch and started kissing my wife again. She kissed back hungrily. Fahim’s wall-like back then blocked my wife’s torso from the view. all i could see were were skirt covered legs stretched out on the couch, and her toes curling and uncurling alternately. There was absolutely no resistance to the proceedings from Ketaki’s side. In fact, quite the opposite.
A few minutes later, I saw Fahim put his hand on Ketaki’s smooth milky white shins. He then started moving the hand gradually upwards, puling the skirt up. First her bare knees came into view, then her bare thighs. And then the skirt stopped moving upwards. But Fahim’s hand was still buried under it. A moment later, I could hear Ketaki start moaning loudly. I knew those moans. Fahim was fingering my wife! My driver had his thick raspy fingers buried in my wife’s cunt!
That jolted me out from the state of an incredibly turned on spectator to an enraged husband. What the fuck was happening? I reached for the cellphone and this time dialed the home number. On screen I could hear the phone start ringing. Fahim paused. Ketaki’s moans stopped as well.
He hurriedly stood up, and with his big back out of the way. I now saw, dumbstruck, that my wife’s 34D boobs were on full display. Her -tshirt and bra were rolled up under her shoulder. As the phone rang shrilly, she got up, but made no effort to cover her tits. Her boobs still hanging out, and her back towards the webcam, she walked to the phone table which was behind the couch. She peered at the display and breathlessly said,
“It’s Samir calling.”
“Hmmm.” Fahim nonchalantly said, walking up to her. “Aren’t you going to answer it?”
“I don’t know….. should I?” she asked.
“Yes, you fucking should, you whore!” I said under my breath.
“It’s up to you.” Fahim said, and stepping behind her, reached around with her hands and started playing with her nipples. Ketaki responded by resting her head on his chest.
“Mmmmmm….I’ll just tell him I was in the bathroom.” she said and turned around, now facing Fahim.
Fahim gently grabbed hold of her t-shirt and bra and started pulling them off. Ketaki raised her hands and allowed him to, leaving her completely topless.
“Oh how I’ve missed these boobs.” Fahim said, and started biting and sucking them.
“Mmm.” Ketaki said, “and you know what I’ve missed?” and I watched, almost on the verge of tears, and she gestured towards his crotch.
Fahim smiled happily, and unzipped his pants. Ketaki bent in her waist and pulled his pants and underwear down, revealing a semi-erect dick. It was not particularly big. I mean it wasn’t small. But it wasn’t gargantuan or anything. Still bent in her, waist, Ketaki took it in her mouth and started sucking it. Her blowjob technique had always been spectacular, and I wasn’t surprised when the dick soon seemed to be fully erect. I could hear Ketaki making guttural gagging noises, as Fahim’s shaft went in and out of her mouth.
Meanwhile, Fahim had kept himself busy too. He had bent over, and pulled up Ketaki’s skirt from the back, so it was bunched up around her waist. He had slipped her panties down. And his huge hand, thanks to the long reach that his massive arms gave him, was seemingly fingering her again.
“Ohhhhh Ketaki, no one has a mouth quite like you.” Fahim said in a breathless voice.
After a few moment, Fahim withdrew his hand. He then put both his hands on her waist. Then, I almost yelped in surprise as he effortless lifted her from the waist, as if he was just turning a doll around. Ketaki let out a squeal of joy as her legs were in the air, in front of Fahim’s face. He then held her upturned body against his own, hugging it loosely and said,
“Turn around so you’re facing my cock.”
“Fahim!” Ketaki said laughing, “I am a bit heavier I used to be. You’ll lose your grip and drop me on my head.”
“Yeah, I can see where you are heavier.” and bent his head down to bite her asscheek, making her squeal and then laugh. “But don’t worry, I am also stronger than I used to be.
Ketaki turned her body around with great effort, even as Fahim held her waist in his bearhug. And in a few seconds, was exactly in the position he wanted. Her cunt just below his face, and his dick in her mouth. In a bizarre standing version of 69 that I had never even contemplated. By now, the outrage and the anger had drained out of me, and I was back to watching the proceedings as if I were watching a porno or a peep show. It didn’t matter anymore that my wife was the one being treated like a toy by my driver. If anything, that added to the eroticness.
They 69-ed like that for a good five minutes or so. Fahim’s tongue brought Ketaki to an orgasm twice, but even after her Olympic skill level cock-sucking, he had not cum. When she goes at it like this with me, I find it difficult to last beyond 2 minutes. In fact even as I watched her blow him, hanging upside down, I felt a raging erection and an urgent need to empty my balls. My naked wife, upside down in his arms, sucking his dick and he licked her clit. Could there be anything more debauched?
Fahim seemed to have finally gotten tired of holding Ketaki. He slowly moved towards the couch and threw her on it. She giggled and spread her legs wide, inviting him into her cunt. But he said,
“You know how I like to start off.”
She giggled and got on her hands and knees on the couch, her round fleshy ass invitingly jutting towards him. Fahim spanked her twice, audibly hard, and she squealed. Then he he put one knee on the couch behind her leg, and slowly entered her. Ketaki let out a satisfied groan as his dick entered her cunt. Fahim humped her slowly, back and forth a few times, then put his hands on her waist.
And then he seemed to just go into overdrive. He started hammering her cunt so rapidly and mercilessly that Ketaki started howling with pleasure. I had never heard her howl like this during sex in 10 years of our marriage. And yet here she was, with my driver, shrieking like a banshee. After a few minutes of high speed drilling, Fahim slowed down and started fucking her gently. But Ketaki would have none of that.
“Harder Fahim. Fuck me harder. Keep fucking me hard. Keep me fucking me harrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrd.” she shrieked out in English.
“What?” he responded in Hindi. “What’s with this English nonsense? Have you forgotten your roots?” their entire conversation so far had been in Hindi/Urdu. “If you want to say something, say it like you used to. Out in the fields. The stuff you used to say, remember?”
Ketaki turned her head around and gave him a naughty grin as he fucked her gently, and then said,
“Yes I remember. But you aren’t saying much either. You used to say so much dirty stuff too.”
“You start.” he spanked her on the right asscheek, “and I’ll start.”
“Chod chod. Jor se chod, saaley randi ki aulaad. Apni chaar maaon ko chod chod kar thak gaya kya jo mujhe itni dheere chod raha hai? (Fuck me, fuck me hard, you son of whore. Are you tired from fucking your four mothers? Is that why you’re going so slow?)” Ketaki said, almost making me fall off the chair. I didn’t know she even knew all these swear words, forget using them so freely.
Fahim let out a wide grin, started fucking her hard again and said,
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They both started laughing even as the fucking continued, and so did the smack talk. Fahim pushed Ketaki’s shoulders down so they were resting on the couch and her big boobs were squished. There she was, my wife, her ass raised in the air in our living room, getting fucked mercilessly by my driver.
A few minutes later, Fahim withdrew his dick from my wife’s cunt, and sat down on the couch, resting his back on the armrest. Ketaki turned around, and crawled on top of him. I knew she loved to be on top. It allowed her to control the pace of the fucking. But the on-top fucking with Fahim was of a different variety. She sat on top of him, took his dick in her cunt, and instead of sitting up straight and doing the fucking, laid down on top of his chest, her boobs squishing against it. Fahim put his big hands on her asscheeks, and started drilling her upwards.
With each stroke, I could see the lower part of my wife’s body rising and falling, her ass-cheeks jiggling obscenely at his assault. Her massive tits rubbed against his chest, and her mouth was open in a big O as she moaned, with her eyes closed. And all the while, loud thuds and thups as their thighs slapped against each others.
Once again, realization swept over me. This was not some porno I was watching. This was my wife of ten years, the mother of my child, in my living room, on the couch I paid for, getting drilled by my driver. This had to stop!
I picked up my cellphone and called the home number again, with my eyes on the screen.
The slapping of the thighs stopped as the phone started ringing. Ketaki jumped off Fahim and ran towards the phone.
“It’s Samir again.” she said, breathing heavily. “This time I have to answer.”
Fahim nodded. Ketaki put one hand on her heaving boobs, took a couple of deep breaths to stabilize her breathing, and then picked up the receiver.
It was admirable how normal she was managing to sound.
“Oh…Hi.” I said, now surprised at how normal I was able to sound. I had decided to yell at her, curse her, tell her I was watching everything. But for some reason, I held back.
“How are you, Samir?” she asked, walking with the cordless receiver towards the couch. “Had lunch?”
“Umm…yes.” I said, staring at the screen as I saw her naked body gracefully walk towards the couch and sit on it, next to Fahim. He put a hand on her thigh. i noticed he was still fully erect.
“So….” she said, taking a deep breath, “You didn’t tell me you were sending Fahim over with some files.”
I was about to respond when the words got stuck in my throat. Fahim’s other hand had now started to fondle her boobs, right in front of my eyes. And she was acting nonchalant as if nothing was happening.
“Oh yeah. I….I forgot.” I said, managing to sound normal, my eyes still glued to the screen.
“Yeah, he got the files. I have kept them on the dining table.” As Ketaki was saying this, Fahim was gesturing something to her, and she was shaking her hands in confusion, and gesturing with her hand.
“Okay. So…what are you doing right now?” I asked.
“I am doing” she said, and I saw Fahim grab her waist and pull her on top of him. “nothing. I am not doing anything. Was just…watching TV.”
It dawned on me that Fahim was getting her to mount him, this time with her back towards him. He wanted to fuck her even as she spoke to me. Ketaki, I noticed, was resisting, but only in a token playful manner. He positioned her feet outside his thighs such that she was now squatting with her back to him such that her cunt was right on top of his erect dick. He was trying to shove his dick up her cunt, and she was dodging it, but again, playfully. There was a smile on her face the entire time that showed that she eventually would let him in.
“What are you doing?” she asked, and then as soon as I started speaking, bit her lip, and lowered herself so that the dick entered her cunt easily.
“I just got done with a meeting. Have another meeting” I was saying this, watching in horror, as my wife took his dick inside her cunt again, and started hopping up and down, getting fucked in the process. I would hear mild sounds of their bodies slapping against each other.
Fahim then put his hands around her stomach and started fucking her intensely, but taking care not to make any sounds. I saw Ketaki’s mouse open wide again in pleasure, her eyes close, as she leaned back against him completely and threw her head back. And let out a small shriek.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Oh..oh…. I…I…twisted my ankle. Owww….ohhhh…ohhhhhhhh…owwwwww….” Ketaki yelped as Fahim now started fucking her really hard.
“You twisted your ankle?” I asked, trying to control my anger.
“Yessssss….owwww owwww…oh……” and then she fell silent as Fahim abruptly lifted her off his dick and threw her on the couch. “Uhmmm….” she said with a sigh as her ass hit the couch and she bounced a little.
“Are you okay, Ketaki?” I asked.
“Yes, It is just umppp….” she got cut-off in mid-sentence.
She got cut in mid-sentence because Fahim, moving in a flash, had pulled her mouth on to his dick and was clearly cumming inside her. I saw his hips jerk back and forth as he emptied his load inside her for a good 20 seconds or so.
“Ketaki? Ketaki?” I kept saying, sounding alarmed, but I could see on the screen that she was in no position to answer. Her cheeks were puffed up because of the semen being pumped into them, and her nose was rubbing against Fahim’s pubic hair.
Finally Fahim got done with his pumping and stepped back, and Ketaki inhaled with a loud gasp. She looked at Fahim angrily and then said to me,
“Sorry Samir, it is hurting a lot. I’ll call you back.”
And then without waiting for me to say anything, she hung up. And threw the phone a Fahim really hard. He caught it effortlessly, like it was a cricket ball. I made a mental note that not a single drop of semen had spurted out of her mouth. She had swallowed it all!
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why did you pull that stunt, you asshole?” she said, getting up off the couch, and glaring at him with her arms akimbo. Still naked.
“Sorry, very sorry.” Fahim said, sounding genuinely contrite.
“What do you mean sorry?” she shrieked. “What if he had found out?”
“Just listen to me. I could not stop it any more. And I didn’t know if you were on the pill or something.”
“So you dump your load inside my mouth?” Ketaki said.
“Would you rather have me spray it all over this couch or the carpet?” Fahim asked.
He had a point. Ketaki folded her arms over her naked boobs, glared at him, shook her head, and walked past him. I saw her head in the direction of the bathroom. I sat there watching the empty living room for a few minutes, feeling my anger boil over. Another feeling was my heavy balls. I could not deny that watching all this had turned me on beyond belief. But no matter how turned on I was, my anger trumped it all. My wife had just cheated on me with my driver.
That’s when my office phone rang.
“Samir, come to my office please. I need some help with this month’s report.” It was my boss.
“Yes, sir. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
I said and got up. But my dick was still forming a tent in my pants. I walked around, trying to think of non-sexual things, and finally got the erection to subside. Then I went to my boss’s office, and helped him out with the numbers. That took about half an hour. I was very distracted throughout, but somehow managed to keep my mind on the work.
When I was done meeting my boss, I came back to my office. I looked at the screen where the webcam was still beaming scenes from my living room. Ketaki was fully clothed again, on her knees with a rag and a pail wiping the floor. She then started cleaning the couch.
There was a knock on the door.
“Come in.” I said.
The door opened and Fahim poked his head in.
“Fahim!” I said, quickly turning my monitor off, which was unnecessary because the screen was facing away from him anyway.
“Sir, I did what you wanted me to do.” he said. I was struck by the choice of his words. Did he know? Could he know? I examined his face for any sign of guile or guilt. But he was inscrutable.
“Okay, thank you.”
He left. I turned the monitor on and looked at the screen. Ketaki was now just lying down on the couch. Tired after cheating on me, I bitterly thought to myself. I watched her for ten minutes or so, then she got up and walked to the door. A few minutes later, I saw her walk by with Pintu who was yammering on about something at school. And again, it struck me – the mother of my child, is now taking care of my child who had returned from school, but just a while back, she had been fucking my driver!
I had a lot of thinking to do. I sat staring blankly at the wall, mulling over what had just happened, and trying to decide what to do next.
Two hours later, I was none the wiser, and even more conflicted. I was extremely angry at Ketaki for cheating on me. But if I confronted her, and she denied it, what next? If i admitted that I had seen the whole thing with my eyes, then I’d have to explain how I had set the whole thing up. Even after she specifically told me I should change drivers. I also found myself trying to make excuses for Ketaki. Yes, she had slept with Fahim. But maybe it was just a moment of weakness, and something she regretted. There was no reason to believe this would continue. After all, if I were put in a similar situation with one of my ex-es, was I really sure I wouldn’t give in too?
Finally I decided on the best course of action. I picked up the phone and called the driver pool manager.
“Hi, Samir here. Listen, could I get assigned some other driver instead of Fahim?”
“Why Sir? Something wrong?”
“No, nothing wrong. I just don’t think it’s a good fit.” I said.
“Are you sure, Sir? If there’s a problem with him, you should let us know. He is still on probation. We could fire him if there’s some issue.”
I thought about it for a moment. Here was an opportunity to get rid of Fahim forever. But him being without a job would also mean him having time to screw my wife when I was away. At least this way, he’d be working when I was working.
“No no, there is nothing wrong. You don’t need to fire him. Just a matter of fit.”
“Okay Sir. We’ll have a new driver to drop you home today.”
An hour later when I got home, Pintu was sitting on the couch watching TV.
“Where is your mother?” I asked him.
Hmmm, washing the evidence off, I said to myself, and called out Ketaki’s name. She came out of the bathroom.
“Hi darling!” she ran to me and kissed me passionately. “How was your day? I missed you.”
Sure you did, I thought to myself.
“Your ankle seems to have healed really fast!” I said.
“My ankle?” she said confused for a couple of seconds until her barefaced lie came back to her. “Oh yeah, I just gave it a hot water bath and it was fine.”
“Good.” I said and went to change.
Dinner was normal, with Pintu chattering away and Ketaki making small talk with me. Finally, we put Pintu to bed and went to the bedroom ourselves. Almost right away, Ketaki jumped me and started stripping. I was about to say something but felt my erection already at full flow.
We were both on our knees kissing for a minute and then I grabbed her hair and pushed her on her fours. I admired her perfect ass, the same ass I had seen on camera being spanked by my driver. I spanked her and she squealed, just like she had squealed hours before. I closed my eyes, reran the scenes from the afternoon in my head and started drilling her hard. She started moaning, and I tried not to think about who she preferred as a lover – Fahim or me.
I had finally decided against confronting Ketaki about what I saw. I decided that it must have been a one-time mistake that anyone could have made. And she wouldn’t repeat it again. She seemed very happy with me. And the sex between us was great. I did want to be absolutely sure though. I couldn’t keep using the webcam. She was sure to check the computer and notice it. I needed something else.
So I contacted one of my clients who ran a security equipment firm. I told him we had a nanny that we suspected was stealing, so could he give me some concealed cameras with a recording device. He gave me three such cameras at a heavy discount – one was a small teddy bear, the other was a small model of the Taj Mahal, and the third was a Rubik’s cube. All were fitted with miniature cameras and mics, and tiny detachable USB drives that could record up to 48 hours of footage,
Over the next few days, I brought the cameras home one by one under different pretexts. The rubik’s cube went in our bedroom, the Taj Mahal in the living room display, and the teddy bear in Pintu’s room. Just in case. The next weekend, I woke up in the middle of the night. Ketaki was sound asleep. I tiptoed to each of the 3 cameras and removed their USB drives, and put them in my bag.
I told Ketaki I had paperwork to catch up with, so I’d have to go to work even on Saturday. I went to the office, which was mostly empty, went into my office, locked the door. I then downloaded all the files from the three USB drives on to my laptop. And started watching the first video file, the one from the Taj Mahal in the living room.