They were poles apart, unlike any husband and wife I’d seen. I couldn’t help but stare at the bombshell in Coffee Day, on our next table. He had overgrown grey hair with a bald patch and specs on his nose, slightly overweight and dressed in a grey suit.
He looked much older than her, like in his late forties, while his wife didn’t appear to be over 25 if that. He was engrossed in his laptop while the lady was holding on to his arm, saying, “Janu, don’t forget your pills.” I stopped listening, realizing it was inappropriate.
My wife was nervous; she was going over her documents again. “Adhaar Card, driver license, e-ticket, passport…” she said when I cut her off.
“Passport nahi mangenge, baba, aao kissi karo,” I said and gave a kiss on her forehead, holding her face. In the corner of my eye, I noticed the hot lady on the next table was watching us. I let go of my wife and straightened up.
My doting wife had only traveled by air once before, holding my hand and burying her face in my shoulder during takeoff. Now, after 2 years, she was traveling alone to her parents’ home in Nainital. It was a long due vacation for her.
She looked good today in her orange kurta and white chudidar. With her ample sindoor and black beads necklace, people could tell from far that she’s married. Atleast guys won’t flirt with her, I thought, holding her hand to calm her.
Boarding was announced for the last two flights of the day. She was still fretting, and her hand was cold, literally. I would have gone, or rather should have gone with her. But my senior official wanted me in Indore for another month, refusing to sanction my full 60 days annual leave.
When we reached the entrance, her eyes were already moist. “Shona, please khana time pe kha lena, aur jaldi chutti leke aana,” she repeated for the third time. I regretted not going with her. “Baby araam se jao, maine phone mein tumhara serial download kiya hai,” I said, giving her a tight hug.
How could I stay away for a whole month, I thought? We’d never been apart since marriage. She put her chest on my shoulder and kissed me on my cheek. The security guy asked us to step aside as we were blocking the couple behind us. “Sorry aap aage jaiye,” I said, pulling my wife aside.
Then hearing last and final call, I squeezed her hand and let her hurry inside.
I saw a hand waving on my left and saw the beautiful woman wave to her husband. He had cleared security checks and was on the escalator going up to the gates.
Noticing her trim figure, I wondered if they take measurements of these kinds of ladies to make showroom dolls. The gentleman disappeared inside. I saw my wife next. She waved goodbye and went inside her gate. With a heavy heart, I stood in the empty departures lot drinking the Frooti that Sindhu bought for me.
“Newly married?” I heard her speak to me, she was right behind, smoking a cigarette. “Do saal ho gaye,” I said, taking a deep breath, I felt a bit lighter. She was wearing a square neck blouse showing off her perfect bust, and a tight-fitting maroon saree.
The color of her saree was reflected on her golden skin, making it glow in the afternoon sun. An oval face framed by a nape length bob haircut that was finger-combed into waves. Deep burgundy highlights on natural black hair caught my attention for a few seconds.
“You came to drop your husband?” I asked, just to make sure. She gave a perfect 10 smile and said, “Are you asking or confirming, ya he’s my husband,” in a slightly nasal, youthful voice. Her smile extended to her mischievous eyes, making them twinkle.
Her cigarette finished, she started walking to the open parking lot. I walked in the same direction towards the airport gate.
“Where are you parked,” she asked, clicking a car remotely.
“We took uber, I’ll take an auto or something,” I said, jumping over the parking fence. I’m a typical athletic guy with a hairy body. Even if I shaved in the morning, I’d have stubble by evening.
She got in her BMW and drove to the gate. When I reached, she was waiting there and honked at me, asking me to get in. I got in the passenger seat. “You don’t have to give me a lift, mujhe bus stand pe drop kar deejiye,” I said, adding “Aaj se biwi ghar pe nahi hai, late jaunga to no problem.”
She just took the highway and replied after a minute, “Not a problem, mujhe bhi kuch jaldi nahi hai, I’ll drop you, mera ghar Scheme 54 mein hai.”
“Ok. I stay in LIG colony,” I said, stealing a glance at her. Her hair was swinging every time she spoke, and it was cut longer on her right side. Her long ethnic earrings were hanging below the bob cut. She had tucked her right side hair behind her ear, showing off a perfect cheekbone.
How can someone have so much beauty, I thought, smelling her fruity body lotion?
“Mayank, right? I’m Palak,” she said.
“How do you know my name?” I asked, mildly surprised.
“Your wife called your name so many times,” she said, laughing.
I stole another glance at her, her waist didn’t have a single gram of extra fat, and what do these posh ladies eat, I thought to myself. Soon my house came, and I got off. She asked me to keep in touch on Insta, so we exchanged our ids.
That Saturday morning, I woke and saw a message notification, asking my apartment number. I replied, getting up on the sofa. I had made a mess of my living room. I also had rough overgrown stubble on my face. There were water bottles and empty beer bottles around the sofa.
The kitchen sink has dirty dishes. I got ready in 10 minutes, guessing whoever asked my number should be arriving. Sure enough, the doorbell rang. I was in a V-neck t-shirt and faded jeans when I opened the door. She just walked in and closed the door behind her.
“What a surprise, you look stunning,” I told her as it was too difficult not to give her a compliment.
She had smoothed her hair, now it was shining like silk. She wore an olive designer kurta with skinny jeans. Her skin color was such that anything would look good on her. Her eye shadow was a deep shade of purple.
“Ye kya kiya hai?” she asked, looking at the mess. “I came to have lunch, but never mind, some other time,” she said, pulling a chilled beer from the fridge and opening it.” She poured some in a glass and handed it to me. She found an ashtray and lit a cigarette. “Do you smoke,” she asked me.
“Only when I drink,” I answered.
“Good control,” she said. “Sorry I was getting bored, I just came to say hi to you.”
“It’s fine,” I said, drinking my beer, I could look at her all day. She told me that she was writing a column for a women’s magazine. She wanted to ask me a couple of personal questions. I was glad to help.
Palak: Is yours a love marriage?
Me: No, it was arranged.
She asked a few other things, and we finished 3 beers getting a bit high. By this time, I was talking quite freely with her and commented that her marriage must surely be an arranged marriage.
She laughed, “It’s actually a love marriage.”
“What a waste,” I said, thinking aloud.
She smiled at my comment but kept quiet. Meanwhile, I cleaned up the living room and made some instant noodles.
“Lunch is ready,” I announced.
Eating slowly, she came closer to me. “Thanks, you cooked for me,” saying she gave me a kiss on my cheek. Her body rubbing against mine for a brief second was like a gift. I was instantly turned on. “Ew, tumhari daadi chubi” she complained.
I walked to my bathroom, saying, “I was going to shave today.” I took off my t-shirt, applied shave gel on my face, and started shaving with a straight razor.
Palak was watching me from behind. She got excited looking at the straight razor and asked, “Let me try once,” and took the razor from my hand.
She sat on the edge of the sink and started shaving me. She was slipping from the sink. So I told her to be careful with the blade. She asked me to hold her in place and put my hands on her slim waist. Coming closer to my chest and shaving me carefully, her face was almost touching my chin.
I had an urge to kiss her milky cheeks, but I controlled myself. When I couldn’t hold her waist anymore, I just put my hands under her ass to keep her from falling. She was light, like a sack of cotton wool, and I tried to control a very hard erection, holding her like that.
She didn’t mind me holding her soft baby ass and kept shaving, checking progress with her soft hands. I was bored by the end and just put her knees on my hips to let her balance. Finishing the shave, she squeezed a towel with hot water in the sink and rubbed my face.
The warm sexy feeling broke my resolve. It was now, or never I thought and kissed her cheek. She responded by giving me a quick dry lip kiss with her soft red lips. Attracted by the smell of aftershave, she came back to kiss my cheek. Her silky hair rubbing on my freshly shaved cheek drove me mad with desire.
I put my fingers in her short hair and stroked it. I asked her why is one side of her hair longer. She said because she wanted it like that. She made her fingers like a scissor and held a big chunk of hair, showing me the graduation.
“I want to level it,” I said, pulling out my steel scissors from the cabinet.
“Not a chance, but you can cut a little on the short side,” she said, making finger scissors and holding out about 2mm on the other side. I saw a naughty sparkle in her eyes. Her deep black mascara could make anyone drown in those eyes. I asked her to take off her kurta because it’s hard to clean after cutting her hair.
She took it off instantly, revealing flat abs and a protruding bust restrained by a tight-cupped bra. I closed the blades of my scissor on the small chunk of thick silky hair. The ‘shick schick’ sound of dry cutting was turning us both on. Palak was taking deep breaths.
In 5 seconds, it was done. She threw the tiny clippings into the sink. My impulsive fetish was now satisfied. I held her chin and gave her another kiss. This time she responded well with her warm tongue and juicy lips. We kissed for 2 minutes, then I stood back and admired her perky boobs.
She got down from the sink and started walking out, swaying her hips to tease me. I caught up in the living room, held her delicate hands, and hugged her from behind. Putting my lips on her neck, kissing the sensitive skin of her nape. She tried to wriggle out, teasing me further.
I turned her around and removed her bra. She raised her eyebrows playfully, suppressing her smile. I started licking her boobs delicately like licking ice cream cones. She couldn’t control and pressed my hands to squeeze her boobs harder. I obliged, sucking her small but pretty pink tits.
She dropped her jeans, revealing a black lace panty. I bit her crotch with my teeth and pulled off the flimsy panty, brushing my teeth on her bald pussy. My nose slightly parted the shaved pussy lips, making her shiver with pleasure. I could smell the juices that had made her wet already.
But it was my turn to tease her, so I made her stand facing the wall and started kissing her entire back, squeezing her soft buns and rubbing my dick in her ass crack. She pressed back into my hairy chest, enjoying its roughness on her smooth body.
I sat in a bean bag and made her sit on the coffee table, taking her soft pink feet. I rubbed my dick, kissing and sucking her toes with red nail polish. Palak called my name, “Mayankhh,” while moaning with newly discovered pleasures. I ate her ankles, slowly driving her almost to orgasm.
She bent down to blow my cock, but I wasn’t done teasing her, I stood up and rubbed the foreskin of my dick in her soft hair, the letting her lick my exposed head, before pulling her up and kissing her sweet lips.
I lifted her and put her back in the bean, inserting my dick deep inside her pussy and kissing her at the same time. She moaned at the edge of an orgasm. The next five minutes, I fucked her intensely. Grinding slowly at first then increased speed.
She tried to pull out in the end, but it was too late. I felt hot arrows shooting from my penis shaft and filled her with cream. Looking down, I asked her, “Ho gaya?” She raised two fingers that she had orgasmed twice already. Then speaking softly in my ear, she said, “Babu, firse karo na.”