Wife and the doctor

Summary: An Indian wife gets treatment from a white doctor as the husband watches

We are an Indian couple living in the US. I had already been working in the US for several years when I got married and brought my wife over to the US. She was in her early twenties then. Having been raised in a conservative background, my wife was always very shy about her body. I was always looking for ways to make her less inhibited. I wanted her to wear more revealing clothes and show off more of her body. I always found it a turn-on to have other men look at her. She had a slim, tight body and never failed to get attention from men wherever she went.

I had to transfer to a new job a few years after our marriage. As part of the transfer, I had to switch to a new medical insurance provider and had to select a primary doctor for my wife and me. For some reason, I always found it exciting to think of a male doctor examining female patients. I looked through the list of doctors with their pictures provided by my insurance company and deliberately picked out a white male doctor who looked like a hunk and signed him up as my wife's doctor.

My wife had to make a preliminary visit to see him just to get the paperwork done. She was a little uneasy about going to him because up until then she had only been to female doctors, both in India and in the US. I did not tell her that I had picked out the doctor for her. She thought that she was assigned to him at random. On the first visit, she had to fill out some forms and the doctor asked her about her medical and family history. After she came back from the visit, she told me all about the doctor and mentioned that he seemed like a very friendly guy.

Afterward, I sent her to see the doctor a few times, usually for minor allergy problems that she used to have occasionally. He usually asked her to come back for another visit to follow up on the medication she was taking. He also asked her to schedule a complete physical, but she was nervous about it and kept postponing it. I was quite excited by the idea and tried to encourage her to have the physical. She then confessed to me that she thought the doctor was starting to flirt with her during her office visits. She said that he commented on her looks and figure, and often asked personal questions. I told her that it seemed harmless to me and that she should have the physical if she thought that he was a good doctor.

My wife visited him several more times but she never made an appointment for her physical. After a few months, I happened to meet the doctor in the lobby of his clinic when I went to pick up my wife after one of her visits. He was a very impressive guy, tall and fit, with a firm handshake and a friendly smile. He looked older than he did in his photograph; he was probably in his mid-forties. After I talked with him about my wife's allergies for a while, I happened to mention to him that she was a good cook. He said that he was fond of Indian food, and would like to try her cooking sometime. I offered that he was welcome to come over for dinner at our house sometime. To my surprise, he took me up on the offer.

The doctor came over to see us the following weekend. My wife wasn't very happy that I had invited him home, but she still cooked a big meal for him. When he came over, she was wearing a simple ankle-length skirt and blouse, and she had her long hair tied in a knot. She was very petite and slim and looked almost like a teenager. During dinner, I caught the doctor often stealing appreciative glances at her body. He complimented my wife on her cooking and then continued to compliment her on her looks and figure. He said that he found Indian girls to be very attractive. My wife started blushing and it seemed like she was starting to like the attention she was getting from him.

He asked me more questions about her and how I met and married her. I told him truthfully that she was a virgin when I married her, and that she had not been with any other guy before or since. My wife blushed deeply when I said it and pretended to be angry with me. I was starting to get turned on by my wife's embarrassment and decided to take this as far as I could.

After we finished dinner, he spotted a family picture of my wife on the wall. She was wearing a saree in the photo. He told her that she looked lovely in the photo, and said that he would have liked to see her wearing a saree. I asked my wife to go and change into a saree. She was reluctant, but I insisted and she left us to go and change. I poured the doctor a drink, and we went to the living room to watch some TV. We continued to talk about my wife, and he said that I was a lucky man to have a wife as attractive as her. I thanked him for the compliment and told him that my wife had told me good things about him and that I was glad to have him as her doctor. Somehow I was getting turned on by the idea that he was smitten by my wife who was much younger than him.

My wife joined us after a while wearing a beautiful red saree and stood before us. He immediately went to her to have a closer look. My wife had untied her long flowing hair. It reached nearly to her hips and covered much of her back. He held her hair up with both hands to look at the saree closely. Since her blouse was cut low in the back, much of her shoulder was bare. She started blushing again, very aware of the show she was giving to both of us.

He then asked her how the saree is worn, and I explained that most of it is wrapped around her waist and one end is placed over the shoulder. He was surprised that there were no buttons or snaps to hold it in place, and gently lifted the end of the saree that was covering her shoulder and moved it away from her body. The small blouse that she wore under the saree was tight and made of very thin cloth and the outline of her bra and the shape of her breasts were visible. She didn't expect him to do this so quickly, and she protested mildly, folding her arms across her breasts to cover up. I told her not to be shy since he is her doctor. She reluctantly dropped her hands giving him a good look at her figure.

My wife has relatively small breasts, but they were firm and well-shaped, and a hint of her perky nipples was visible even under her bra. The blouse was cut low in the front as well, and a little bit of her cleavage was visible. The blouse reached just below her breasts and her midriff was bare. She always wore her saree below her waistline, and since she had a very small waist, her navel and belly looked gorgeous above the folds of the saree.

He then dropped the end of the saree to the floor and asked her to turn around, to give us a view from all sides. I already had a boner and was starting to wonder how far this would go. He asked her what she wore under the saree. She first blushed and pretended to be mad at him for asking. She then realized that he really didn't know, so she told him shyly that she had on a petticoat. He knelt beside her and slowly raised the lower folds of the saree to reveal a little of her petticoat (underskirt) in matching red. He lifted her skirt to her knee, exposing the smooth skin of her calves. He then playfully asked her what she had on under the skirt. She didn't answer him, but she blushed deeply. He pretended to put a hand up her skirt, but she wiggled free of his grasp and got away from him. She looked flushed with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. He let her go, and we sat down again.

She then re-adjusted her saree and sat on the couch next to where we were sitting. I asked the doctor about the medication she was taking. He said that he had recommended a full physical for my wife, but that she had failed to schedule an appointment. He looked disapprovingly at my wife, and she started stammering an apology. I asked him what kind of tests she needed to have done. He said that she would need a basic exam and some special tests based on her medical and family history.

He then asked me whether we use birth control and if I wanted to get my wife started on birth control pills. I told him that we had been using condoms till then and that it would be a great idea for her to start taking pills since neither of us liked condoms much. My wife turned red as the conversation turned very intimate. The doctor said that he would have to give her a pelvic exam and a breast exam before he could write a prescription and offered to make an appointment at his clinic for a physical for her the next week. She seemed nervous upon hearing this but she did not have much choice at this point.

I told him that my wife was embarrassed about having a physical from a male doctor, but that it was perfectly OK by me. He said that it is quite normal to be nervous during a physical the first time, but that I was welcome to accompany her during the exam if it would help make her more comfortable. This sounded very exciting to me and I eagerly agreed. I joked with him about how nice it was to be able to see many girls naked as part of his work. He admitted that it was interesting for him, but that most of his female patients were older women and it was nice to have a pretty girl like my wife to be his patient. My wife blushed upon hearing this but she seemed pleased to hear the compliment.

The doctor called us the next day to confirm the appointment for my wife's physical a few days later. It was unusual that he was handling the appointment himself instead of letting his office do it. It was clear to me that he was quite eager to have her in for the physical. I was eagerly looking forward to it as well.

On the day of her physical, my wife spent considerable time getting ready, and I noticed that she had groomed herself meticulously. She wore a floral blouse and a flowing skirt that reached just above her ankles. She wore her best makeup and perfume and had given herself a manicure and a pedicure. I could tell that she was nervous and a little excited at the same time.

At the clinic, we were taken to the examination room where a nurse came in first and measured her height and weight, and then took her temperature, pulse, and blood pressure. She then left and then the doctor came in to talk to us briefly. After some small talk, he pointed to the gown provided by the clinic and told my wife that she could change into the gown if she wanted to, or she could just keep her street clothes on if she was more comfortable that way. He then left us, presumably to give her time to change. My wife looked at the skimpy gown and decided against wearing it.

The doctor came back after a few minutes. He was his usual friendly self and he kept up the small talk as he started examining her. He first checked her eyes, ears, and throat. He examined her neck and shoulders and listened to her heart and lungs with a stethoscope. He then asked her to lie on her back on the examining table and raised her blouse till her abdomen was fully exposed. He started feeling up her abdomen firmly with his fingers. My wife trembled slightly at his touch. He explained as he examined her liver, spleen, and other internal organs thoroughly, at times inserting his finger under the waistband of her skirt and panties. He then asked her to turn over to lie on her stomach. He raised her blouse to the middle of her back and examined her kidneys and spine.

He then asked my wife to get up and undress to her waist for her breast exam. She hesitated a bit, and then sat on the table and started undoing the snaps on the front of her blouse. I helped her to remove it off her shoulders, revealing a lacy black bra. She undid the snaps at the back of the bra, took it off, and sat up, with her hands crossed in her lap. Her embarrassment at sitting topless in front of the two of us was obvious. She looked very attractive and vulnerable at the same time.

My wife has nicely shaped breasts with perky dark nipples, which stood out clearly. He asked her to raise her right hand and then started checking her right breast. With his bare hands, he felt up her underarm and all around her breast in a circular motion with three fingers pressing the flesh of her breasts. He asked her if she ever had a discharge from her nipple. She said no, but he still pressed a finger on her nipple, bending it to one side and lightly squeezing it. He then lowered her arm. He repeated the same with her left breast while holding up her left hand over her head with his other hand. He asked her if she ever did breast self-exams and she said no. He said that she should do them regularly in the same way that he just did, and placed his hand again on her breast to show her the area to cover.

He told her she could put her clothes back on. I watched as my wife put her bra back on and then I helped her with her blouse. He then told her that he would do the pelvic exam next and that she could keep her skirt on and just remove her underwear. She blushed upon hearing this and reluctantly got down from the table. She then awkwardly reached under her skirt to lower her panties. As she stepped out of them, I noticed that they were lacy black panties that matched her bra. He helped her to get up on the table and asked her to lie down and then slide down the table. He raised her skirt to the waist and gently spread her knees apart. He lifted each of her feet onto the supports on the examination table.

He then switched on the spotlight directly above the examination table. My wife's legs, thighs, and pubic area were completely exposed, and her light brown skin glowed in the spotlight. Her pussy was very smooth and cleanly shaven, which is the way she usually kept it. It seemed that she had waxed or shaved her legs especially well for her exam because she did not have a single hair visible anywhere.

After talking briefly about pelvic exams, he spread her pussy lips gently apart. He ran his finger along the outer labia and spread them open a little. He spread a drop of lubricant on his fingers and inserted his index finger into her pussy gently. I thought it was unusual that he did not wear gloves as I had expected. He explained what he was doing as he went on examining her insides for a while. Her pussy lips were slightly moist and I noticed that his finger too was moist when he withdrew them. He explained that he was going to examine her cervix. He rolled one finger around her cervix and pressed it lightly against it. My wife squirmed a little, but he continued. He then also added his middle finger and I watched excitedly as his fingers disappeared inside her pussy. He said that he was trying to check her uterus and ovaries for any abnormalities. He had big hands and I found it very arousing to see two of his fingers inserted up to the third knuckle inside her pussy. He twisted his fingers around inside her pussy, checking it from every direction. With his fingers inside her pussy, he felt up her hairless pubic area with his left hand, pressing down firmly with his fingers.

He then got a speculum and gradually inserted it in her while holding her pussy lips apart with the other hand. She winced when she felt the cold material entering her. I was amazed at the view he had of my wife, with her legs spread obscenely apart and her cleanly shaven pussy on display, held open with the speculum so that he could see deep inside her pussy. The insides of her pussy looked very moist and pink. My wife looked a little uncomfortable and nervous, but it seemed that she had gotten over her initial embarrassment. He checked her cervix closely with the speculum and took a sample for a Pap smear test.

He then said that he would next check her rectum for hemorrhoids or other abnormalities. She had not expected this and neither had I. He removed her feet from the supports and asked her to turn over and lie on her stomach. I watched excitedly as she turned over and he raised her skirt to expose her buttocks and thighs completely. She has a nicely rounded bottom, and I was stunned to see that my wife's ass was so clearly exposed in the spotlight. He separated her legs a bit till her anal area and even her pussy were exposed in the bright light.

He left her in this embarrassing position to go to the cupboard to get a pair of latex gloves. He put on the gloves, then squeezed out some lubricant and smeared some on his gloved index finger. He spread her butt cheeks apart with his left hand and inserted his index finger gently into her ass. My wife gasped and grabbed the edge of the table tightly as she was not used to any anal contact. He told her to relax her muscles as he inserted the finger and rolled it around inside her. He continued to check for about a minute. When he was done, he took some tissue and wiped the excess lubricant from her anal area.

He wrapped up the rest of the exam in another few minutes. After he was done, he helped her get down from the table. She put her panties back on and sat on the table. He explained more about the birth control pills, gave her some free samples, and asked her to start taking the pills every day. He told us to use condoms for another month because it would take a few weeks for the pill to be effective.

I found the whole procedure quite arousing and couldn't wait to get back home to fuck her. When we got home, I was pleasantly surprised to find her to be quite responsive to my caresses. As I entered her, I found her to be as wet as she had ever been.

After a couple of days, my wife called me at work one evening and excitedly told me that the doctor had called to tell her that her test results were normal. She had talked to him for a while on the phone, and he had ended up inviting himself for dinner. He was on his way to our house and she was cooking dinner in a hurry.

I deliberately stayed at work for another hour and took my time getting home. When I got home, I found them in the kitchen. He was tasting the food she had prepared. My wife's face was all red, and it seemed like there was some intense flirting going on.

We had a nice dinner and I found that our conversation had become much more intimate no doubt partly because he had seen my wife naked just a couple of days ago. He asked us if we were still using condoms as he had told us to. I told him that we had been using condoms every day. My wife blushed at the implication of what I said. He told her that she would probably enjoy sex more after we stopped using condoms because she would be able to feel it better. This kind of talk was turning me on, although my wife was painfully embarrassed. I told him that we sometimes have sex without a condom when it is a safe time of the month for her. I said that she likes it better when we do it without a condom, but that I do not come inside her for fear of her becoming pregnant.

He then asked me if she enjoyed sex. I told him that she usually does not come during sex, but she climaxes easily when I finger her or when I go down on her. My wife was so embarrassed she covered her face with her hands, but we ignored her. He asked next if we use a lubricant or whether she has enough natural lubrication. I said that we usually use some lubricant, but that we don't need it if I caress her long enough, because then she gets quite wet.

He then asked me if I wanted him to check her out to make sure everything was all right. He had a slightly evil grin on his face that told me that he wanted to do more than just check her. It sounded good to me, however, and I told him to go ahead. He got up and sat next to her on the couch. He put his arm around her and gave her a hug and a quick kiss on her lips. She looked at me like she couldn't believe what he was doing, but I told her it was all right. He asked me again if it was OK to kiss her and I smiled to indicate my approval. He held her head with both his hands and started kissing her in earnest. I thought it was best to leave them alone for a minute, so I excused myself pretending to go to the bathroom.

When I came back, he had picked her up and placed her on his lap, and he was still kissing her deeply. She had her eyes closed and mouth open. His tongue was exploring her mouth and she seemed to be melting in his arms. I wasn't bothered at all by this and in fact, found it very sexy to watch them together. I dimmed the lights, sat on a chair at the other end of the room, and watched them intently. I watched as he held her head with one hand, and put his other hand under her top to caress her breasts over her bra. I could tell that my wife was very excited and she seemed to tremble at his touch. Very soon he raised her hands to remove the top over her head, and then slowly unhooked the thin white bra she had on and let it fall to the floor. She seemed giddy with excitement and eagerly opened her mouth again as he continued to kiss her.

I could barely believe that my wife was sitting topless on another man's lap, but the sight was incredibly exciting to me. He was more than a foot taller than my wife, and she looked very tiny next to him.

He then got up, lifted her off his lap, and laid her on her back on the couch. He then knelt on the floor beside her, kissed her passionately on her mouth, and then moved down her body, covering her neck, breasts, and belly with kisses. My wife seemed to be in another world altogether and was responding to his touches with giggles and moans that seemed to excite him even more. He slipped one hand under her skirt and started feeling up her thighs. Her skirt had ridden up to her thighs showing her legs and bare feet. Her toenails were painted pink, and her feet looked very shapely and delicate. He started kissing and licking her feet and legs, tickling the soles of her feet mercilessly for a couple of minutes as she laughed and thrashed about uncontrollably. He then reached under her skirt and lowered her panties and removed them, as she lifted her buttocks to allow him to take them off.

He resumed kissing her neck and boobs and licking her nipples with his tongue. He slipped his hand up her skirt again. She started squirming and it was clear that he had a finger or two in her pussy. He continued fingering her for several minutes while he went back and forth between her nipples. Finally, he withdrew his finger. It was dripping wet. He tasted her juices and then suggestively slipped the finger in her mouth and made her lick her juices.

He then turned to where I was sitting and asked me if I could give him a condom. I hadn't expected things to proceed this fast, but I went to the bedroom, got one, and gave it to him. I guess this was his way of asking my permission to fuck her.

My wife seemed surprised by this as well, but before she had time to think, he gave the condom to her. He then unbuckled his belt, lowered his jeans, and revealed a very visible erection within his jockey shorts. He then motioned to my wife to put the condom on him. She hesitated for a second and looked at me and I told her to go ahead. My wife got down, knelt on the floor, and then lowered his underwear with his help. His cock was very stiff and pointed almost straight up with a prominent pink head. She struggled to get the condom packet opened and then tried to put it on him. She had never put on a condom before since I always did it myself. She fumbled with his cock and the condom for a while, trying to get it on. His cock was thicker and longer than mine, and I was fascinated to watch her handling his cock. After she was done, he stepped out of his jeans and shorts, laid her on her back on the carpeted floor, and lifted her skirt all the way, revealing her smooth thighs and pubic area. He placed a cushion under her butt to position her pussy at the right height.

He kissed her briefly on her pussy and flicked his tongue over her clit. Her brown pussy lips looked moist and inviting. He then parted her legs, folding them at the knees, and raised them till her knees were above her chest. He knelt beside her and entered her effortlessly. He started with slow, deep strokes. My wife bit her lower lip and closed her eyes, wincing occasionally when he thrust deeply into her. I could not see her pussy clearly from where I was sitting, but it was incredibly erotic to watch her with her legs spread widely apart, and his butt bobbing up and down between her legs. His skin looked very pale against the golden brown complexion of her legs. He kept this up for a while and then started thrusting harder and faster, causing my wife to let out a grunt as he entered her each time. She was not used to this, because I was usually much more gentle with her. I suspected that it was hurting her a little, but she did not say anything or try to stop him. She was also breathing faster and started to sweat a little.

He continued thrusting harder, occasionally stopping to catch his breath. He had a lot more endurance than I did, and it took quite a while for him to come. As he was coming, he started grunting loudly and thrust into her ever more vigorously.

After he was finished, he rolled over to the side and they snuggled for a while, completely ignoring me. He rolled her over on top of him and made her bounce on his softening cock until it slipped out of her. My wife seemed tired and sweaty and had a look that said that she had been very well fucked. He asked her to remove the condom from his cock and she disposed of it. He then asked for a napkin. She grabbed a napkin from the end table and wiped off his cock, which was covered in his cum. I was surprised because she had never done this for me. She then gathered her clothes and ran to the bathroom to clean up. As the doctor put his underwear and jeans back on he told me that he thought my wife was very sexy and that he fully enjoyed making love to her. When my wife came back, he kissed her passionately again. He soon left thereafter.

My wife was a little nervous after he left, worrying about what she had done, and wondering whether anyone would find out. I assured her that it was OK with me and that the doctor would be discreet about this (which he was).

The doctor called my wife again the next week to chat and asked if he could stop by again. When she asked me about it, I happily agreed. I found that my wife didn't seem to object anymore either, and had already invited him to visit again.

He showed up the following weekend with a bouquet of flowers for my wife, which of course pleased her very much. He gave her a big hug and a kiss on her lips as he came in. Just as she started serving dinner, he asked her to take off her blouse and bra and told her that he wanted to enjoy looking at her breasts for the rest of the evening. My wife protested but reluctantly agreed, much to my delight. I found it a huge turn-on to watch her topless as we sat at the dinner table. I opened a wine bottle and made sure that all of us had a couple of glasses to drink.

After dinner, he immediately started cuddling with her. This time he undressed her fully and he also got completely naked. They cuddled naked on the couch for a while. He had a nice build and it was clear that he kept in good shape. He was taller and quite bigger than me. He had broad shoulders, a hairy chest, and strong arms, all of which my wife seemed to like. He then picked up my wife and made her sit on his lap and started nibbling on her tits. He put her down on the floor and sat up straight on the couch, took her hand, and placed his cock in it. He motioned her to come closer to his cock and my wife understood that he wanted her to suck him. My wife had given me blowjobs a few times before, but only as a prelude to sex. He caressed her hair and brought her head closer to his cock, and she opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around the head of his cock.

She had deep red lipstick on and it was a wonderful sight to see my wife kneeling on the floor and taking his cock into her mouth. He was circumcised, and his cock looked very different from mine because of its bulbous pink head, his white skin, and the light brown hair that covered his pubic area. He instructed her to do various things with her mouth, like licking up and down the length of his cock, flicking her tongue across the head of his cock, and kissing the underside of his cock and his testicles. He would then again have her take his cock into her mouth with her lips wrapped tightly around it, with his hands guiding her head up and down the length of his cock. She got the hang of it quickly and started doing it without his help, holding onto the base of his cock with her thumb and index finger. When he was close to coming, he would stop her and ask her to lick around and below his cock. This was repeated several times until his cock was covered in her saliva and smeared lipstick.

Unlike the first day, I sat very near to them this time, so I had a very clear view of all this. When he finally started coming, his cock was still inside her mouth, but he pulled out quickly and his cum fell on her chin, neck, and breasts. She acted like she was grossed out, but he made her hold his cock and pump him until the last few drops came out. He then made her kiss his cock again. He was starting to go soft again, but he asked her to continue to lick his cock till he was hard again.

When he was erect again, he fucked her on the living room floor as he had done before. This time he didn't use a condom and came inside her when he finished. She then ran to the bathroom to clean up and came back after a while with a damp cloth and wiped off the cum and her juices from his cock.

From then onwards, we saw him on several weekends. He would stop by on a Friday normally. He would always bring a nice gift for my wife, including expensive items like jewelry occasionally. Sometimes he would stay overnight and leave the next morning.

He got her to do many things she had never tried before. He liked to be quite aggressive with her and treated her more roughly than I ever did. She didn't seem to mind it much, and I let him push her around a little bit. It was clear that he enjoyed the power he had over her and especially seemed to like to take her in front of me. His favorite was to do her doggy style on the floor or to have her sit on his cock and ride him. She had done neither of these before. He would usually make her face me so that I could see the expressions on her face. It sometimes took him a while to get an erection. Usually, she had to suck him for some time to get him up. But once he was up he took a long time to come. He taught her to rub her clit as she was riding his cock, and she learned to get herself off this way. He also got her gradually to let him come inside her mouth. She first used to spit out his cum, but eventually, he got her to swallow most of it as he came inside her mouth.

When he stayed over, he would sleep in our bed with us with my wife in the middle usually wearing only a T-shirt and panties. He would spend much time cuddling with her, and would usually fuck her in the morning as I lay next to them watching. When he took a shower in the morning, he would take her with him to the shower and have her soap, wash and dry him off. She was happy to go along with his demands and I didn't mind it much either.

We also went to his place several times. He had a nice condo in the city. He had a well-stocked bar and he liked to play drinking games with my wife, usually getting her very drunk. She gets drunk easily and is a lot of fun when she is drunk. We made up several silly games designed so that my wife would lose and would have to take off her clothes or perform various sex acts on him or me. He had a small collection of porn movies that we watched together. My wife had never seen any before and it was an eye-opener for her. We got her to try to imitate some of the girls in the movies.

We never did a threesome. Sometimes he would ask her to suck me or to have me fuck her while he just watched us. I always preferred to watch them do it. Those days I used to fuck her almost every day, so I didn't mind holding back on those days when saw the doctor. It was very exciting for me to watch my wife with another guy, especially an older white man who seemed to get off on doing it with a shy, married Indian girl.

We continued this for several months, after which we had to move to a nearby town and saw him less often. My wife continued to see him as her doctor for a couple more years. He even continued to do my wife's annual exams. Of course, I always went with her for her exams and they never failed to arouse me.

Our Massage in India

Summary: An Indian wife and her white husband get a massage from a local guy in India

My wife is originally from India. I met and married her after her family emigrated to the US when she was in her 20s. We go on vacation to India every few years, partly to visit her family and friends, and partly because it is a nice change of pace from our busy lives. The events in this story happened on one of those trips several years ago.

After the obligatory visits with her relatives and friends, my wife and I stayed for a few days at a beachside resort hotel in southern India. We stayed at a gorgeous beachside cottage with a great view of the ocean. This was in the middle of summer and it was too hot to go out during the day, so we ended up sitting on the balcony of our cottage and sipping cold drinks. In the evening, when the sun cooled down a bit, we would venture out to the beach, as my wife loves to play in the water. She wore a conservative one-piece swimsuit that showed off her curves nicely. She was getting appreciative looks from the men at the beach, both locals and tourists. It was always a turn-on for me to see other guys check her out.

On the second day that we were there, I noticed a small leaflet in the hotel guest directory mentioning "in-room massage by experienced therapist". This caught my eye because my wife loves massages. She had had professional massages in the US a few times before and had enjoyed them immensely. It was a secret turn-on for me as well, to have her get a massage from a male therapist. Professional massages are not particularly sexual, but it was still very exciting for me to imagine another man touching her pretty intimately. A couple of times she had a male massage therapist, and I wished that I could watch her getting the massage but of course, it was not possible.

We were not particularly sure what a massage would be like in India, but I was curious and I finally called the hotel desk. The woman at the desk just asked me how many hours it was for, and I ended up getting an appointment for the next afternoon for two hours. I did not mention that the massage was for my wife. We were still left wondering what to expect. The next day was to be the last day of our vacation, as we had to catch a flight back to the US the day after. I figured this would be a fun thing to try to complete a very pleasant couple of days we spent in India.

The next afternoon came and promptly at the appointed time, our therapist showed up. It turned out to be a guy as I had wished. He was a short Indian guy with a small build who appeared to be in his late thirties. He was quite dark-skinned, with a thick mustache and a friendly smile. As we found out later, his name was Sridhar, and he spoke just enough English to get by. Luckily my wife speaks the local language (Tamil) well and she ended up doing most of the talking. I told him that I wanted him to massage my wife first. He seemed surprised but promptly agreed with a shy smile. I realized later that in India women get massages only from female therapists, and "cross massages" (male massaging a female, or vice versa) are considered improper or indecent. 

I wasn't sure where Sridhar was going to do the massage, because he didn't bring a massage table. He just brought with him a box that contained some oils and creams. He then came into the bedroom and proceeded to change the sheets on the bed, using new sheets that he took out of the bedroom drawers. He left a plain white sheet on top and asked my wife to lie on the bed for the massage. 

Sridhar and I then came out and stood on the balcony to allow my wife to change. So far things seemed to go pretty professionally. I knew that it would be especially exciting to have an Indian guy massage my wife because in India any physical contact between unrelated men and women is taboo. I wanted to make sure that I would be able to watch him closely as he worked on my wife's body. I told Sridhar, mostly using hand gestures, that I wanted to join in while he massaged my wife. To my surprise, he readily understood me and told me with a big smile that it was fine by him, and proceeded to show me the massage oil that he had brought. It was coconut oil laced with some local herbs, with a strong but pleasant smell.

My wife then called out, saying she was ready, and we went in. She was lying on her stomach and had draped a white sheet over her. I noticed right away that under the thin sheet, she was wearing her bra and panties. I figured that she was too shy to remove all her clothes given the circumstances, though she had undressed fully for her previous massages in the US. I then told her that I would be working on her with Sridhar, and she was pleasantly surprised. Sridhar then proceeded to lower the sheet to the middle of her back, exposing her neck and shoulders.

He then started working on her neck, after warming up the oil in his hands and moving her shoulder-length hair out of the way. It was clear that Sridhar was well-trained in what he was doing, and despite his small build, had big, muscular hands. I on the other hand was a total amateur, though I have exchanged massages with my wife several times. I started working on her hands, letting Sridhar do most of the hard work.

Sridhar and I soon started to sweat as it was getting very hot and humid inside. I had switched off the A/C because my wife likes it to be warm while getting a massage. Sridhar was wearing what appeared to be a uniform provided by the hotel -- a white polo shirt with the hotel logo and blue pants. I was in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. I went over and opened the glass door to the balcony halfway and opened the drapes, letting in more light, the soothing sound of the breaking waves, and a light breeze. I decided to get more comfortable, so I took off my T-shirt. Sridhar looked at my chest approvingly and smiled, and I proceeded to get out of my shorts as well, leaving me with just my boxers on.

After doing my wife's neck, Sridhar lowered the sheet to just above her waist, exposing the smooth skin of her back covered only by a black bra. He proceeded to work on her back earnestly. I then casually reached over, unhooked her bra, and let it fall to her sides. She appeared a little hesitant at first but then acted like it was no big deal. The sides of her breasts were now partly visible to us. My wife is a rather small girl -- very petite, with relatively small breasts, but quite a curvy figure otherwise, with a small waist and full hips. Sridhar started earnestly working on her back, and it was clear that she was enjoying it a lot. It was interesting to see the contrast of his dark hands on the fair skin of her back.

I mostly stopped doing anything at this point and simply watched him working on her lower back. As he lowered the sheets below her waist, the top of her pink panties came into view. It was clear that the panties were going to get in the way, so I asked him to stop. I then gently raised her hips and lowered the panties to her knees, while still keeping her covered with the sheet. I then lowered the sheets till nearly her entire bottom was exposed. She was more hesitant this time, but by now she was so absorbed in the massage that she didn't resist. I then motioned to Sridhar to continue, and he complied with a shy smile.

My wife has a gorgeous, shapely ass, a little too big for her otherwise small frame, but very soft, round, and inviting. She held her legs close together so we couldn't see anything between her legs, but I was starting to get hard just thinking about my wife's ass on display to a virtual stranger. Sridhar continued to work on her lower back and seemed too shy to go lower, so I got some more oil and started working on one of her ass cheeks and motioned to Sridhar to work on the other, and he complied. My wife likes to get her ass massaged, and she slowly started squirming in pleasure. I let Sridhar work on both her ass cheeks at the same time, as he was doing a much better job than I was. It was incredibly sexy to watch him firmly knead her ample buttocks that were dripping with oil.

Sridhar kept at it for several minutes while she started to respond to his hands, arching her back and raising her hips a little, and started rubbing her thighs together. The sheet got lowered even further to mid-thigh and we started getting glimpses of her pussy. Sridhar was a gentleman and kept raising the sheet to cover her. This went on for a while and I started to wonder if she was going to get off on just getting her ass rubbed.

My wife seemed to relax after a while. Sridhar stopped and raised the sheet to her shoulders and raised the lower end of the sheet above her knees so he could work on her legs. I slipped off her panties that were still around her knees, and raised the sheet even further, till just below her buttocks. I then rested for a while, enjoying the sight of Sridhar working on my wife's shapely legs. The strong smell of the massage oil filled the room and there was a delicious sexual tension in the air. Sridhar bent her legs at the knees, spending ample time on the soles of her feet and kneading her toes one at a time, which I know she loves. He then went up higher and higher, all the way up her legs, till he was inches away from her pussy.

When he was done with her legs, he pulled the sheet down and told her to turn over, while he held the sheet in place. After she rolled over onto her back, I removed the bra that was undone earlier and lifted her hands to take it away from her. My wife seemed like she was half-asleep and she kept her eyes shut, though I caught her stealing glances at us occasionally. Sridhar then raised one of her hands and started working on her forearms. His hands sometimes rubbed against her cleanly shaven underarms, which seemed to tickle her. The sheet was covering the top of her breasts. I decided to push the envelope a little and boldly lowered the sheet to her waist, exposing her breasts, stomach, and navel. My wife acted like she didn't even notice, and kept her eyes tightly shut. My wife's breasts seemed smaller than normal since she was on her back. But they were firm, and her nipples stood out, very perky and dark against the fair skin of her breasts, and despite the heat, she seemed to be getting goosebumps.

As I did with her buttocks, I started massaging one of her breasts and motioned to Sridhar to do the same. He readily followed my example with a shy grin, and soon started softly kneading her breasts with both his hands. I gently tweaked one of her nipples between my thumb and index finger, as if to show Sridhar what to do. He avoided playing directly with her nipples, but he was cupping each of her breasts firmly in his hands as he was massaging them. My wife again started squirming and rubbing her thighs together, and I was sure that she was starting to get all wet by now. Sridhar then slowly worked down to her waist and she seemed to cool down again.

When he was done with her waist, he pulled up the sheet again to her shoulders and raised the lower end so that he could work on the front of her legs, starting with her knees and working downwards. Feeling adventurous, I reached over and raised the sheet to her waist, completely exposing her thighs and pubic area. My wife again didn't react, though I was sure that she was very conscious of what I was doing. Sridhar appeared a little flustered and kept his eyes focused on her knee that he was working on as if to avoid looking at her pussy.

My wife normally keeps her pubic area completely shaven, but this time due to our travels, she hadn't had a chance to shave for the last three weeks, so she had a fine growth of dark brown hair between her legs. She kept her legs pressed close together so we couldn't see much of her pussy. I was going to have none of that, so I gently spread her legs apart till her pussy lips, which were visibly moist, clearly came into view. I got some oil and started working on her inner thighs, which I know is very stimulating for her. I could feel her tremble at my touch and I motioned to Sridhar to join me.

Soon we had her legs spread enough so that both of us could work on her inner thighs. I then let Sridhar take over, and he worked on the sides and insides of her thighs but was careful to avoid touching her pussy. My wife seemed to lose much of her modesty at this point and started arching her back and raising her hips to meet his hands, though she still kept her eyes closed. It was clear to me that she wanted to get off. I let Sridhar continue to tease her for several minutes, and then I gently covered her pubic mound with my hands and started rubbing her clit and pussy lips with my fingers. I slowly inserted a finger into her pussy and found her to be very wet as I had expected. I rubbed her clit with my wet finger as Sridhar continued to work on her thighs.

Sridhar hesitated a little when I motioned him to take over my place, but then started massaging her pubic area with a nervous grin on his face. He started rubbing her clit with the well-oiled middle finger of his left hand, while his right hand covered the area around and below her pussy lips. He now seemed to be focused on getting her off. It was clear that he was not new to this because he seemed to be pretty good at it. Soon my wife bent her knees and lifted her ass almost entirely off the bed, responding to the finger on her clit. Sridhar kept at this for several minutes while I went over to her head, and gently started massaging her shoulders and breasts. I could feel my wife's body stiffen as she was responding to Sridhar's caresses.

This was almost too much for me, to watch my wife being fondled most intimately by a strange guy, while she was completely exposed to the two of us. I was fully hard and had a large bulge straining the thin fabric of my boxer shorts. My wife's breath quickened and she bit her lower lips and then gradually appeared to relax. Though she did not make a sound, it was clear to me that she had gotten off. Sridhar knew it also, and he stopped and pulled the covers over her, letting her rest for a while. I then bent down and kissed her gently on the mouth, taking her lips into my mouth, while Sridhar looked on.

My wife came around soon enough and sat up in bed with a sheepish smile. She giggled when she saw me in just my boxer shorts proudly sporting a very visible erection to both of them. It helped her to get over her embarrassment, and she started talking to Sridhar about the massage oil and whether she needed to take a shower. He told her not to, as the oil is good for the skin.

She then told me that it was my turn, and only then I remembered that I had made the massage appointment mainly for me. Of course, my wife now wanted to join in the massage, and I tried to get out of it, as I do not enjoy massages as much as my wife. But she insisted, and Sridhar seemed to be very keen on it also, so I gave in. My wife got out of bed completely naked and proceeded to put on her bra and panties, her body still glistening with the oil. It then struck me that she was going to massage me with just her bra and panties on, and I was even more aroused by the thought. Sridhar re-arranged the sheets on the bed as before and asked me to get on the bed.

As you might have guessed, I am not particularly shy about showing my body; on the contrary, I enjoy showing off quite a bit. I slipped off my boxer shorts without a care in the world and got onto the bed on my stomach completely in the buff. My wife laughed at my shamelessness and Sridhar didn't seem to mind it at all.

Much like he had done with my wife, Sridhar started massaging my neck and back with an ample amount of oil, with my wife also joining in. Sridhar showed her some strokes to try and she would practice them on my back. I was surprised to see that my wife, who was very quiet during her massage, now became her usual chatty self and was talking to Sridhar about all sorts of things. She found out that he was married and had several kids. He had been working at the hotel for about a year and used to work at a clinic previously. He said that the hotel did not officially allow him to massage women. But he did massages for foreign couples sometimes and he massaged the wives when asked, but it was uncommon for him to massage an Indian wife.

I noticed that Sridhar was less shy while working on me, and thoroughly kneaded my buttocks and thighs. He didn't seem to mind brushing against my private parts as he worked. I guessed that he was used to working with the male body, and did not have any inhibitions about touching another male as a masseur in the US might have.

When I turned over on my back, I was very hard and I stayed that way, except that I would lose it once in a while and then again get hard when they worked on a particularly stimulating spot. I kept my eyes open and enjoyed watching my wife, clad only in her lacy black bra and pink bikini panties working on me with Sridhar, who of course was fully clothed and seemed to be drenched in sweat. It was striking to watch two pairs of brown hands working on my pale white body. The sensation of four hands on me was almost too much stimulation for me to handle.

My wife would occasionally glance at my hard-on and then look at Sridhar and grin. I don't like to brag, but I am reasonably well-endowed in both length and girth, and my wife seemed almost proud showing me off to him. Sridhar too seemed fascinated by my circumcised white cock. He didn't hesitate to massage my lower abdomen and inner thighs, making me rock hard as he worked. I knew that they would have to do something to relieve me in the end because the tension was getting to be too much. When my wife gave me massages at home, she would usually finish me off with her hand or mouth, or we would end up having sex. As I expected, when the massage was nearly over, she got some oil and took my cock in her hand, and started rubbing up and down sensuously. For his part, Sridhar helped out by rubbing my inner thighs and gently playing with my balls. I noticed that he had his eyes focused on my cock with my wife's fingers wrapped around it.

The excitement of being fully exposed and the sensation of being fondled by both of them was too much for me as I was already on edge. In the end, the feel of the warm oil and my wife's soft hands on my cock set me off. In my arousal, I extended my hand to feel my wife's bottom and slipped my fingers under her panties to knead her buttocks which were still slick from her massage. I came within a few minutes, taking her by surprise and spilling a bigger-than-normal amount of cum on her hands and my stomach and thighs, while Sridhar looked on. She then looked at Sridhar with a big smile, as she continued to gently pump my cock. Sridhar got a towel and they both cleaned me up together.

It was already more than half an hour past the end of our appointed time and Sridhar was in a hurry to leave. He got out a sheet to get my signature for his payment, and my wife signed the sheet. I just sat up in bed, still naked, as I was too spent to get out. My wife then got her handbag out and gave him a large tip, all the while wearing just her bra and panties. Sridhar thanked us and left and we never saw him again.

My Driving Lessons

Summary: Young Indian woman enjoys a secret dalliance with two driving instructors 

Though I have not been living in India for quite a few years now, I still remember with nostalgia certain incidents of my many happy years there. This story is about an experience that happened a year after my marriage. My husband had just left for the USA where he worked and I was supposed to join him in a few months. I had quit my job after marriage and was living with my parents in Bangalore and visiting my in-laws often who were also nearby. I was 25 years old then.

My elder sister who was older than me by 4 years and her husband, who were based in Delhi, kept insisting I visit them for a vacation. After their constant pestering, my conservative parents finally relented. I was thrilled, as this would mean a break from my parents and in-laws and the usual restrictions imposed by them. I fully enjoyed myself at my sister's place, which was in Chittaranjan Park in South Delhi. I did a lot of sightseeing and some shopping and watched a lot of movies with my sister. After a couple of weeks, my sister then suggested I learn how to drive a car, as I will need to drive after moving to the US. I too liked the idea and promptly agreed.

My brother-in-law talked to a driving school nearby called "Happy Driving School". The next morning, the driving instructor came in an old, rickety Ambassador car and my sister and I went for the first lesson. My sister came along more for giving me comfort and confidence, but also because I suspect, she did not trust North Indian men. The driving school was run by two instructors, Harpal and Jasbir, both of whom were former truck and taxi drivers and were in their mid-forties. Both were typical North Indians, well-built and rustic. They did not speak much English and I only knew some basic Hindi, so my sister would translate occasionally, but otherwise I spoke very little with them.

Typically one of them would come, either in the morning at 7 or in the afternoon at 2, to avoid the office rush so that there was relatively little traffic on the road. We would normally practice in deserted lonely stretches of road for about an hour every day. The instructor would sit close to me in the front seat, while my sister would sit behind. The first 3-4 days went on smoothly, after which my sister got busy with some other work and stopped joining us for the lessons. 

Normally, the afternoons were more comfortable for me and Harpal would always be the instructor then. Now with my sister not being there, I could sense that Harpal was getting closer to me when explaining things, and helping me more with the steering wheel and hand gears. If you know how the front seat was on a vintage Ambassador car, this meant he had to sit right next to me, with our shoulders rubbing and at times even our legs. I was a little conscious of this fact but he appeared unconcerned. He would also place his hands on my hands casually while holding the steering wheel and gearshift. Being a modern girl, I did not show any problem with his touching, so I think he felt more encouraged.

We would go to long deserted stretches of roads for me to practice better. On the third day without my sister, just after I had got into the car on the driver's side a little distance away from the house, I think I did not close the car door hard enough, so it was a little open. He reached over and closed the door while rubbing his arm firmly against my breasts. I knew he had done it deliberately, but it was such a bold and clever move that I was impressed with him. Later, while he was helping me with the steering wheel at a turn, he casually rubbed his elbow on my breasts. I was surprised but did not say anything as it could have been by mistake. Again, after a few minutes, the same thing happened and he rubbed his elbow on my breasts while trying to eagerly help me with the steering. We were sitting so close by that there was no space for me to move sideways or behind. I realized that with such proximity such brushing was likely to happen. 

It happened another 3-4 times with Harpal becoming a very eager instructor and now helping me all the time with no resistance from me. The next day Harpal was there on time and we set out, and with him very close by my side. We went to another deserted road and in his attempts to guide me better he kept rubbing his elbow on the front of my blouse onto my breasts. Unlike the first day, when he would remove his elbow immediately, he was now resting it longer on my breasts and then would advise me to also hold onto the steering wheel. As a result, I would have to lean forward and then his elbow would press down harder onto my breasts. He initially let his elbow rest there against my breasts but then he started to slowly exert pressure and push his elbow onto my breasts in a fairly obvious way. This was quite deliberate and I could tell that he was pretty turned on by then. I also tried to act cool and continued to act as if I was very keen on learning how to drive and did not show any indication of what he was doing, though I was very aware of his elbow on my breasts. It was exciting in a way, and I remember holding my breath waiting to see what he would do next. 

That night I even dreamed about Harpal and his lewd attempts of touching me. I was also feeling aroused, since I had missed having sex with my husband for the last few weeks, after having gotten used to it in the year after my marriage. The next afternoon, the same thing happened. We practiced driving in a deserted part of some South Delhi road, with me gingerly handling the steering and his elbow pressing down onto my breasts. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt. At a particular point, he moved closer and I happened to glance down and was stunned by what I saw -- his shirt was pulled up and his zipper was open without any underwear visible, thereby displaying his hard cock which was now mostly out of his pants and erect. This sight amazed me and I was not sure how to react and avoided looking at it. His elbow was on my breasts and I continued to drive the car but was very well aware of Harpal's large and erect exposed cock, just next to me. A few minutes later, despite myself, I again glanced down to see his cock in its full excited glory. It looked big and hard. Harpal noticed me looking down and when I did not say anything even after seeing his exposed cock he placed his right hand on my thigh. I gasped but tried to keep calm and ignore his touch. This continued for a few more minutes with me unsteadily driving the car on a deserted and lonely road with my heart beating hard and fast and his hand resting on my thigh. 

Harpal then removed his hand and inched right next to me and slightly leaning forward, slipped one hand under my arms (as my hands were on the steering wheel) and placed it right on my left breast. I was too confused to react, so I kept quiet and acted as if I did not see what he was doing. Harpal then started pressing my breast slowly and firmly. I was wearing a salwar kameez and he leaned forward and then put his hand into my kameez from the neckline and totally onto my bra and to squeeze my breast. This was too much as I thought about the situation I was in: on a lonely road in the hot Delhi afternoon with a burly north Indian man openly taking advantage of me. Strangely I still felt like I was in control because I knew that he would back off if I even protested slightly. 

He then told me to stop the car and when I did, he made himself comfortable and pushed his hand deeper into my bra to pinch my nipple. I did not make any comment and looked around to see if anybody was around. He whispered not to worry, as not many people would come here. The road was deserted with a lot of trees around on both sides. He then tugged a little forward and took my hand and placed it on his cock. It felt hot and very hard. I looked down and saw my small fair hand holding his large dark cock, which was already glistening wet on its top. I gripped it hard, enjoying its hard feel and heat in my hand. 

Harpal then slowly started pulling up my kameez and started to now squeeze both my breasts hard from inside my kameez, over my bra. He moved the other hand behind me to unclasp my bra and then pushed the bra cups up to release both my breasts. With one hand I was now helping to hold up my kameez for him and with my other hand stroking his cock. Harpal was now tugging hard at my nipples. He lifted my kameez enough to expose my left breast and then bent down to start sucking on it. This was fantastic. He then began nibbling on my nipple with his rough unshaven cheeks rubbing on my breast. He covered his hand over my hand on his cock and began to move it and I cooperated by moving my hand up and down tightly on his cock and slowly started to masturbate him. Soon enough, with his lips sucking on my breast, he jerked forward as his cock exploded with all his semen all over my hand. He leaned back and sighed in pleasure. He was as shocked as me at what we had done, and he thanked me profusely for it, though I did not understand all of what he said. After I adjusted my bra and kameez and had a few minutes of rest we re-commenced our driving lessons and he dropped me home. 

That night I thought of what we had done and felt thrilled that I was doing such a bold thing with a man who was rough and unrefined, yet always polite and respectful to me. The next day, he was there in the afternoon right on time. I drove carefully and he again started to assist me and to rub his elbow on my breasts and place his hand on my thigh. He told me to drive towards the same place we went to the previous day. He fiddled with his trousers and again withdrew his cock which was already hard and erect and looked magnificent. Once we reached the isolated area, he asked me to stop and without much hesitation began to squeeze my breasts again, and now hugged me and kissed me passionately on my lips. He pulled up my dress again and unclasped my bra. This time he bared both of my breasts and bent down to squeeze and suck on them. I was also enjoying this act and on my own started holding and gripping his cock. After a few minutes, Harpal moved his hand down, opened my salwar, and pushed his hand inside my panties. I was already wet to his touches and willingly parted my legs so that he could run his fingers along my labia though I stopped him when he tried to insert a finger. I jerked him initially slowly and then increased the tempo. He was unable to control himself and ejaculated his warm semen into my hand. I quickly withdrew my hand with his semen splattered on it. I wiped my hand with my chunni and we then rested for a few more minutes, I adjusted our clothes and after driving around for a while, returned home. Nobody had come when we were there. Harpal had chosen his spot well.

On my return home, I felt pretty thrilled with myself. This was a far cry from my conservative life in Bangalore. The next day was a holiday and the following day in the afternoon, instead of Harpal, Jasbir came saying that Harpal had fallen sick. I was a bit disappointed, and we drove around for a while with Jasbir also trying to advise me and sitting very close to me and he too occasionally rubbing his elbow on my breasts as this had happened before with Harpal. I did not object, but I was getting a little suspicious now and had a feeling he would try something. He guided me to the same place where Harpal used to take me and while I was still driving shifted his position and without saying anything he placed his hand on my breast and started squeezing it. I tried to act offended and stop him. He said that Harpal had told him about me and that is why he had come. He said he was desperate for me and pleaded with me to cooperate. I found the situation pretty exciting. I had two lovers now without even trying! I allowed him to pull up my dress and squeeze and suck on my breasts and nipples and I in turn took his cock out, which was as big as Harpal's. He took longer to cum and I leisurely masturbated him, even feeling his balls till he ejaculated over my hand. He was not as bold as Harpal and did not try to kiss me or feel up my pussy, though he licked very nicely on my nipples making me moan.

I was due to return to Bangalore in a few days and knowing the restrictions going to be imposed there, decided to enjoy my last few days in Delhi. I spent time with my friends, saw movies, went out to eat, and had the last day of driving classes. On the last day, Jasbir came to pick me up and I confidently drove on the main road. After about 10 minutes he advised me to go towards our usual lonely stretch of road. He brushed my breasts a couple of times and briefly caressed them as well. On the way, we saw another car from "Happy Driving School" which had broken down, and Harpal trying to repair it. He saw us coming and waved us to stop and then after talking to Jasbir a bit, he got into the back seat of the car. I was nervous with both of them in the car but they reassured me not to worry and commended me on how much my driving had improved. I drove towards the lonely road without them even prompting me. It also started raining a little bit then. 

We reached the road and Jasbir asked me to stop the car as the gear was getting stuck. I was very nervous, and also excited but he kept saying not to worry. In the meantime, Harpal had got down, opened the front door, and slowly led me out. He asked me to sit in the back seat. He then kissed me full on the lips and squeezed my breasts simultaneously. Due to the rain, the place was looking very deserted. Jasbir also joined us in the back seat and I sat in between both of them. Harpal was now passionately kissing me on my mouth and Jasbir was fondling my breasts. Jasbir pulled up my kameez up to my neck awkwardly, unhooked my bra, and with a sigh of passion started to knead my exposed breasts. I was also breathless with excitement and by the pace of things. Jasbir bent down and in full passion started sucking on my nipple and Harpal watching this lifted my Kameez further till it was almost all around my neck. I was now nearly topless with my driving instructors. And then Harpal also started sucking on my other nipple. This felt incredible, with two guys passionately sucking both my breasts simultaneously. I was moaning with pleasure on this combined assault and loving every bit of it.

Harpal started rubbing me between my legs and then after a few moments, opened my salwar string to slip his hand inside my salwar and panties and directly onto my pussy, and started fingering me. In a few moments, he even pulled my salwar and panties down to my thighs. This was a little more than what I had bargained for, but I was feeling extremely aroused in any case. Both these guys had unbuttoned their pants and Harpal, sort of sat up on the seat and made me hold his cock with my right hand, while Jasbir was back to sucking my breasts and placed my hand on his hard cock, which I started to slowly stroke and masturbate with my other hand. They both also took turns rubbing my pussy and even both at the same time. All three of us were very excited. It was sort of over pretty fast because neither of them could control themselves any longer. I remember both my hands were messy in the end. I quickly wiped myself clean. I guess they wanted more (and so did I), but we could see in the distance an auto-rickshaw coming, and not wanting to take any risk. We all hastily dressed up and drove away from there.

They thanked me for my cooperation and I allowed both of them to kiss me on the lips lovingly as it was the last time they would be seeing me. That evening I caught the train back to Bangalore. On the journey back I thought if the auto-rickshaw had not come that afternoon, what further we would have tried and what fun it would have been. Instead, all three of us missed out on it. On the other hand, something was better than nothing and it turned out to be my only experience ever with two guys. 

I joined my hubby six months later, but even now I occasionally remember those wild things I indulged in and "Happy Driving school" and the two horny instructors. In the end, I suppose all of us were "Happy". I did not share these escapades with anyone except my husband much later. Incidentally, I am a good driver now!

Smita's Mistake

Summary: Married Indian secretary is punished by her boss and his foreign friend

My phone rings. "Hello, Smita here... Yes, sir, I'll be in your office in two minutes." His voice sounds irritated, even slightly angry. I feel nervous as I tread the corridor to his office. It is unlike him. He is always so kind. He never criticizes me and he always understands if I am ill or late. He is the perfect boss and this job is easily the best I have ever had.

Feeling gradually more confident, I arrive at his door. I knock softly and wait. "Come in Smita." I enter cautiously, smiling. He smiles back. He is an attractive man, for his age. He must be twice as old as me. I am 26. "Sit down here Smita." He gestures towards a chair, continuing to smile warmly.

"Thank you, sir." I was wrong, he is not angry. He sits behind his desk; his strong brown eyes gaze across at me. They dart across my face, then my cleavage. His eyes always wander. He likes me I know. It is my fault. I am wearing a thin blue saree with a blouse that plunges at the front displaying plenty.

"Smita, we have a slight problem here. Someone has invited Ravi Singh to next week's luncheon." I look surprised; Singh is one of my boss's business partners. "Well, normally it would be fine Smita, but you see I've also invited Mr. Morris and he hates Singh. If Singh is there I can kiss goodbye any chance of getting a new contract from Mr. Morris."

Mr. Morris is one of our important clients from the UK. He often visits our office in Mumbai, which is where I work. He is an imposing middle-aged white man. Since he has very close ties with my boss, he always treats me like I am his secretary as well as my boss's. He always tries to flirt with me. I try to ignore him, but each time he visits, he only tries harder.

I shift uncomfortably in my chair. "Did you invite Singh, Smita?" His question is so direct I feel thrown.

"No, no, sir." But I know I did. I remember mailing the invitation. Why did I lie? I feel anxious, slightly out of breath. I know I am no good at lying. For a moment I'm not listening to him.

Then I hear him say, "Well, whoever did this has messed up a lot of hard work." He frowns. Then he smiles again. "Smita, could I trouble you to return to your office and bring me a copy of the computer file you used to generate the invitations that you sent? I meant to ask you to bring it when I called. I'm sorry, but I need to know who invited whom. Perhaps then I can find out who invited Singh."

I feel myself blushing. "Yes sir." I walk back to my office in a daze. Now, what am I to do? You stupid fool, why did you lie? Why didn't you just admit your mistake? At the office, I get an idea. Of course. Edit out the entry for Singh. For the first time in several minutes, I feel relaxed, at least a little. Quickly I make the necessary changes. Within seconds, I am walking back to his office carrying my disk.

After knocking, I am summoned inside. "Thank you, Smita, thank you." He takes the disk. "Take a seat, please. I hope I'm not keeping you from your other work. But this will only take a minute." He puts the disk in his laptop and examines the file. "Yes, no sign of Singh here. Excellent." He smiles. I smile back. What a relief. Smart thinking, Smita. But suddenly, "No, no, no, something is not right here. This file was edited just two minutes ago. Look." I get up and see his finger pointing at the time. Oh no. What now?

For a moment he looks puzzled, but rapidly his face fills with understanding. Then he glances up at me and the understanding turns to annoyance. "Smita, did you delete Singh from this file just now, before returning with the disk?"

"No, sir, I didn't." I know I'm very red in the face and fidgeting nervously. My heart starts pounding harder.

His expression becomes stern. "Sit back down Smita." This time the gentle tone is gone. I feel an uncomfortable tingle as I slide back into my chair. He stares across the table at me, his eyes penetrating me. I look down at the floor. I am too ashamed to look him in the face. There is a long silence as I tremble anxiously.

Finally, he stands. I look up at his form towering over me. "Smita, you edited this file and deleted Singh's name, didn't you?" "Yes, sir." My answer is barely a whisper.

He pauses. He shakes his head back and forth. "Smita, I am very disappointed in you. Mistakes I can accept, though I must say that in this case, your error will be an expensive one. However, when you lie to me and then attempt to cover up your lies by deception..." His sentence trails off. His face indicates how angry he is. I bow my head again, this time lower. I wonder if my trembling is noticeable to him.

He walks behind me and then paces the room. Now he stops and speaks: "Smita, I am afraid that I can no longer trust you... and if I can't trust you, well, I am forced to let you go." These words echo through my head as I feel a knot in my stomach grow tighter. Rapidly, tears well up in my eyes.

I sit up and half turn in my chair so I can face him. "Sir, please... I'm sorry, really very sorry." He is unmoved. "This will never happen again, I promise. Please give me a chance." I stare up at him, my pleading eyes meeting his merciless expression.

"No Smita, what you have done is inexcusable. If I let you stay, you will not have been taught a lesson. For your sake, you should go. Then, I hope, you'll understand how wrong it is to violate the trust others place in you."

He seems set on firing me. I feel awful. I have blown the best job that could ever come my way. Maybe one last desperate plea. "Sir, I beg of you... I am so sorry. I know what I did was wrong. I don't know why I did it. Please sir, I know I need to be taught a lesson, but do you have to fire me? Please, sir, I'll do anything."

He paces across the room. He is deep in thought. He returns to his desk and sits down again. He stares at me. I see the barest hint of a smile. "Well, Smita, there is a way. Mind you, it's not popular these days." I shift uncomfortably in my chair. Somehow, I know this is not going to be easy. "A young lady who has misbehaved as you have could use a good spanking. Something that she would not forget in a hurry."

He speaks coldly. All the while his gaze is unwavering. I blush slightly and gaze down into my lap. "If you will accept this punishment then perhaps we can save you your job here. But, it's your choice. Think about it for a minute."

He walks into an adjoining room. I can hear him shuffling papers or something. I have received spankings before when I was little. They certainly hurt, but I want to keep this job so badly. My thoughts are interrupted by his return to the room. He stands beside me and places a hand on my shoulder. "What's it to be then Smita? You can take the punishment or you are free to leave."

"The punishment please, sir," I find myself saying. I squirm in my seat as I speak and I feel my heart start to race. I look up at him, my eyes wide with apprehension.

He smiles. "Very well, come back to my office at 5 pm sharp tomorrow. Don't be late now, will you?"

"No sir, I won't," I stammer.

"Also, I want you to type up a statement that clearly states what you did wrong and that you will willingly accept any punishment that I administer". "Take the statement home with you, and tomorrow I want to see your and your husband's signature on it."

He ushers me out of the room before I have a chance to think and I return to my work. Why, oh why does he want my husband to know this? I am sure he just wants to add to my humiliation. He knows that my husband is unemployed and is in no position to defend me. We cannot afford to lose my job.

I do nothing in the ensuing time. I sit and worry about my decision. Maybe I should have asked him exactly what this punishment involved. Surely he won't be too harsh, but then again who knows? I saw a new side of him today that frightened me. I type up the statement and take it home with me.

My husband is first amused and then angry when he hears about what I did. I know he thinks I am sassy and hard to keep in line. He only seems glad to hear about my impending punishment. He signs the statement readily. I have little hope of avoiding the inevitable now.

I make sure I time my knock on his door at 5 pm exactly the next day. My knock is hesitant. His reply is anything but that, a sharp crisp "Enter!" that jolts me to alertness. I bow my head, open the door and enter the room sheepishly. I am startled when I see not just him, but another man of similar age standing on the far side of the room. It is Mr. Morris.

My boss beckons me forward and then motions me to stop just in front of his desk. "Now Smita, I want to make sure that you haven't changed your mind. Have you?"

"No sir, I haven't," I reply meekly, not daring to look up.

"You are quite sure?" I nod several times. "Very well, Smita. For your sake, I invited my friend Mr. Morris. He is, shall we say, a neutral observer. He is here to ensure that I treat you fairly." I look over at Mr. Morris. He smiles back, a disgusting smile that makes me feel sick. I know he is really just here to view my spanking.

My boss asks me to give my statement to Mr. Morris. He reads it and chuckles before giving it to my boss. They both whisper something to each other, completely ignoring me. I feel so humiliated by their attitude.

My boss carries a heavy chair to the center of the room. It's about to start. I swallow. I feel myself perspiring. My extremities seem to tingle. "Come stand right in front of me Smita. That's it. Good girl. Stand up straight now and place your hands on your head. Elbows sticking out. Good. Excellent." He pauses for a moment, as if unsure where to begin.

I feel awkward standing with my arms raised. I am wearing a saree as usual, as he had asked me to always wear sarees to work. I know it is necessary since I have to deal with our international customers. My boss takes me with him when he meets important clients. I know it is not because he needs my help. He likes to have a pretty girl like me at his beck and call, to impress his clients. My job is to look charming and to laugh at his jokes. He gives me a generous allowance for buying clothing that I like. Everything I wear to work is bought with his money.

I am soon awakened from my thoughts. I feel his hands on my shoulder, taking the end of my saree away from me. He starts to slide off the saree from my waist, away from my body as he walks around me, gathering the garment in his hands. Soon I am standing there in just my blouse and petticoat. I am shocked at how vulnerable I feel without my saree. I know I should have expected this if I was going to receive a real spanking.

I try to keep perfectly still, just the frequent rise and fall of my chest as I gasp to breathe. "Take your skirt off Smita," he orders me. For a moment I fumble in a fluster. I start to untie the string that holds my petticoat around my waist. Soon I have it sliding down my legs and over my high heels. Mr. Morris gives an approving grunt as I stand up straight again. His eyes flow up my legs and across my crotch and breasts, now covered only by my skin-tight blouse and my lace panties.

My boss sits in the chair at the center of the room. "Come around to my right side Smita and put yourself across my knees," he says sternly. I feel myself being pulled across his lap by my arm. My hands hold me up off the floor and my butt sticks up in the air in the perfect position for him to see. Mr. Morris gets up and walks across the room to where he can get a better view. I strain my neck to see where he is going. My boss's firm hand grasps the material of the panties just above my butt and pulls it up my back. This sends the material deep into the crack between my soft cheeks, effectively exposing my bottom fully. I feel so ashamed. He gathers my long black hair off my back and lets it fall to one side.

I expect some more preliminaries but I am taken by surprise as he delivers a hard blow with his hand to my left buttock. I gasp and absorb the harsh sting bravely, letting out only a slight yelp and that is more from the surprise than pain. The second and third blows follow quickly, one on each cheek. His hand is heavy and he holds back nothing. At this point, I can grit my teeth and take each slap with no more than a jerk of my body and a slight frown.

By about the tenth slap my poor bottom starts to feel warm all over. Each new slap makes my buttocks sizzle unbearably. "No sir, please, it hurts," I whimper, as I twist on his lap.

"Smita!" he retorts, "It is supposed to hurt. Keep still...and straighten your legs. I want that bottom held up high on my lap. Do not try to slide away." I pull myself back into a more satisfactory position. I'm unsure why I oblige so readily. Is it just the fear of losing my job? Is there a secret guilty pleasure in what I am experiencing?

The spanking resumes, hard and fast. Each slap causes me to throw back my head and shout a begging protest. Mr. Morris utters something about knowing it wouldn't be long before I started crying. I briefly imagine the smug grin that must be on his face and I start to feel angry with my boss for humiliating me in front of this disgusting man. Such ruminations cannot last long though; as my mind is constantly brought back to the task at hand by the swift series of spanks I receive, alternating between one cheek and the other.

"I'm sorry sir, I'm sorry. Oh sir, please stop now. Awww!!" Tears stream heavily down my face. My hair sags over my face due to the flailing each slap causes in me. The intensity of the spanking increases until I feel like my entire butt is on fire. 

But suddenly and without warning he stops. I adjust my position slightly and reach up to rub myself with my right hand. But his arm grabs my wrist and holds it firmly against my back. "No Smita! Do not attempt to relieve the pain. Just stay in position. I want you to contemplate the burning sting a while longer." How can he be so cruel? Have I not taken enough? Mr. Morris chuckles. I assume he realizes how mean my boss's command seems to me. He repulses me.

More than a minute passes until I am finally told that I should stand up. "Do not place your hands on your behind Smita. Put them back on your head like before." I stand erect in that position. Behind me, I feel Mr. Morris's hot breath on my back. I know I must look like a frightful mess. My tears have ruined much of my mascara and makeup. The arms of my tight blouse are damp with my perspiration. My panties are still riding high on my hips, showing most of my reddening bottom.

"You certainly know how to treat a wayward employee, I must say," Mr. Morris says. I shudder as he inspects the warm red glow of my exposed cheeks. Mr. Morris walks around to face me. He expresses some mock sympathy when he sees the mixture of mascara and tears that trail down both sides of my face. He moves a finger to wipe away a tear. I want to step back and spit at him. Of course, I dare not. I feel so humiliated by this man.

Himself tired and reddened by his exertions, my boss pours himself and his guest a cold drink from a small refrigerator in the corner of his office. After handing Mr. Morris his drink, he says, "Now Smita, you have been punished for your mistake. That just leaves us with the matter of your lying to take care of."

I am shocked. I had thought we were finished, but it seems that we are not. My face gives away my surprise. "That's right Smita, we cannot let your devious attempt to deceive me go unpunished can we?"

"Uh... no, sir, I'm so sorry," I stammer.

"Good girl." Both my boss and Mr. Morris smile at me wickedly. My boss continues, "Very well, remove the rest of your clothes. I want you naked for the next bit."

I gasp and pause momentarily, alarmed that I must reveal myself in front of them. "Please, sir, is it necessary to punish me further? I promise I will not lie in the future." I speak with pleading sincerity, my eyes again welling up with tears.

My boss replies with a sigh, "No it is not necessary, Smita. If you wish you may put on your clothes and go. However, don't plan on coming to work tomorrow or any other day. It's up to you. What is it to be?" In hopeless resignation, I lower my face and begin to reach for the snaps on my blouse.

"I think she's made her decision," says Mr. Morris to my boss. The two of them exchange knowing glances, waiting for me to continue. After undoing the snaps and taking off my blouse, I put them on a nearby chair. I reach behind my back and unhook my bra awkwardly. I feel their eyes biting into my exposed breasts as I remove and place them on the chair. I take one more pleading look at them before bending down and stepping out of my panties resignedly.

I now have nothing to cover my modesty and I feel so vulnerable. I feel silly wearing just my heels and jewelry; a pearl necklace, matching earrings and bracelet, and a traditional gold chain around my waist. I instinctively try to cover my breasts with one hand, and my private area with the other.

My attempts to cover up don't last for long. "Hands back on your head Smita. Stand up straight... That's it. Very nice. Very nice indeed." They stand in front of me, sipping their drinks, taking in, amongst other things, the sight of my full breasts sticking upwards and outwards due to the positioning of my hands, and my crotch covered only by my trimmed pubic hair.

I wonder briefly whether they like what they see. I can see the lust in Mr. Morris's eyes; I wonder whether Mr. Morris has seen an Indian girl naked before. I feel mortified, as he walks around me and looks at me from every angle. I feel so exposed. I would rather they just punish me than torture me like this.

After several minutes of this, Mr. Morris says, "What's part two going to be?"

My boss responds, "I'm not sure. Lying is truly despicable. It has to be something she won't forget in a hurry. What do you suggest?"

Mr. Morris chuckles, gives me a sneering look, and says, "I suggest that we get the little bitch across your desk and thrash her with my belt. How does that sound?"

My boss nods in agreement. I am appalled at hearing them talk about me this way. I am even more shocked to see Mr. Morris unbuckle his leather belt and hand it over to my boss. I flinch in horror as I anticipate the brutal blows it is about to deliver to my defenseless and still aching behind.

My boss comes behind me. He taps my shoulder, only very lightly. "Right Smita, go over to the desk and bend across it." I comply. The polished desk is cold against my breasts and stomach and hard where the edge presses into my thighs. "That's good. Now straighten your legs and raise that pretty little behind of yours. Nice and high. I don't want to miss and believe me, you don't want me to either."

The wait for the first stroke is unbearable. My boss stands beside me. He places his left hand on my lower back. I tense as I feel his warm palm against my skin. He then takes a step back. I feel the belt brush my cheeks. He slides it slightly from left to right and back again, briefly letting it fall into the crack between my buttocks. He slides it over my buttocks down to my thighs and then back again. He repeats the whole procedure several times. Feeling anxious, I try to peep up over my shoulder. Finally, the belt is lifted high and then brought down with speed and force. I hear a swish followed by a loud crack as the belt strikes me square across the middle of my bottom.

Almost instantly a hot burning pain stings along the line of contact. I throw my head back. "Awww!! Oh, sir." The pain spreads throughout my behind but barely loses any of its intensity at the point that the belt had struck.

Recovery time is kept to a minimum as a second equally forceful and deftly placed stroke swipes the delicate underside of my cheeks. I contort my face in distress and yell a loud protest. A hard spanking such as I had received is one thing, the belt is a different kind of experience. The spanking had left my bottom so raw that the belt's cruel punishment is even more intense than I would have ever dreamt.

My cries are accompanied by a gushing stream of tears and frequent comments from that pig Mr. Morris. "That's it, give it to her. She's not going to forget this beating in a hurry."

The blows stop after a while. Much to my surprise, my boss hands the belt to Mr. Morris and asks him to complete my punishment. Mr. Morris seems eager to add to my misery. He is even harder with the belt than my boss. I lose count of the strokes. The blows come in rapid succession. His aim is uncanny. He seems to find a new spot each time.

"Oh God sir, please! I beg you! Stop!!!" As I endure the last two or three blows, I scream in agony, twisting and turning, barely able to maintain the required position.

Finally, Mr. Morris stops and steps back. I lay across the table panting and sobbing. "I'm so sorry sir, really I am. I will never lie again I promise." My bottom is covered in a series of welts that resonate with raw biting pain. I pray that this is the end of my punishment. I know I must not raise a hand behind me to soothe the agony. Never mind, Mr. Morris steps forward and does it for me. The initial contact of his fingers increases the pain as he irritates the soreness, but as he presses harder he unwittingly brings limited relief to me. He grunts approval as he prods and probes me. He seems to delight in the soft moans each touch brings from me.

Mr. Morris finishes feeling me up when my boss says, "That's enough now Smita. I hope you have learned your lesson. Please do not ever try to deceive me again."

"I won't sir, honestly I won't." I continue to sob.

"Now, be a good girl. Get dressed and return to your office. No one will see you. Everyone went home over an hour ago."

He hands me my saree, petticoat, blouse, and bra. He holds back my panties. I look at him questioningly. "You won't need one for the next couple of days, trust me," he says. They both chuckle, to my terrible embarrassment. I am even more ashamed when I see him hand my panties to Mr. Morris who promptly puts it in his pocket, looking very pleased.

My head bowed down, I accept the rest of my clothes and start to get dressed. Somewhat comically given the amount of time I have spent naked before these men, I try to cover my breasts and private area as I get dressed. I step into my petticoat and tie its strings around my waist. The men watch me closely but offer no help. Due to the shame I feel, I keep my eyes downcast as I put back on my bra and blouse. It takes me forever to put on my saree. Every time my petticoat rubs on my buttocks, I wince in pain.

I hurry towards the door. I open it, then pause, turn, and look at my boss. "Thank you, sir, for punishing me." Then I look at Mr. Morris. "And thank you, sir, for giving your time to see that my punishment was fair." The men look at each other. They are puzzled at first, but quickly their expressions change into delighted smiles.

My boss hugs me and runs his hand on my back. Mr. Morris's hug takes longer, and his hand lingers on my bottom, caressing me softly. He presses my body to him tightly and I can feel his hard-on through his trousers. I let him hold me as long as he wants. He brushes my hair aside and touches my lips lightly and then lets me go. My eyes fill with tears. I no longer feel angry at him. I bow my head once more and without fuss leave the room, closing the door softly behind me.

I do not encounter anyone during my short trip back to my office, just as they had assured me. I run to the ladies' room to fix my makeup and freshen up. I take the train to get home as I do every day. It is too painful to sit, so I have to stand till I get home.

At home, my husband rubs my behind with a soothing lotion to ease my pain, but for several days sitting and even walking are uncomfortable. Of course, I go without panties for the next few days.

It is certainly a beating I would not forget, even long after the welts had healed. Over time, the feelings of pain recede, and I am overwhelmed with a sense of erotic exposure and submission that I experienced at the hands of two powerful men. Sometimes when I am alone, my mind wanders back to this incident. The memories never fail to arouse me, leading me to pleasure myself.

As a footnote, the next day I arrived at work early. There was an envelope on my desk. Inside the envelope, I found a note from my boss attached to a check. The note read, "Smita, Please consider this a bonus and cash this at once." The check was for 50,000 rupees, signed by Mr. Morris. Also inside the envelope were my panties, neatly folded.