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The moon had nearly filled the woman’s entire bedroom upstairs, and his soft white light fell like a clean sheet over her young and supple brassy skin. The walls were pink and noisy, and it irritated her to no end that her father would not let her change it to something more in line with her age. It was as though he did not want her to grow up. Vivi thought if all Indian girls had to live this way. She felt alone and dissatisfied with her life, which consisted of only college and home, and she wanted desperately to do ordinary things like other girls her age. She wanted a boyfriend and that desire had yapped and growled at her ever since her best friend, Meera, had started a new relationship.

With every ruminating wondered that Vivi encountered she became less and less able to withstand the urge to storm downstairs and complain to her mother; but she could just imagine her father’s disapproval of her desire, and that hurt her even more.

Suddenly, her smartphone lit up like a beacon and she saw that her friend had messaged her.

“My mum said it was okay for me to have a sleepover. Do you want to come over?”

“I don’t know if my dad will allow it.” Vivi replied.

“Can’t you ask him?”

“He’s downstairs now with our new neighbour. That old guy gives me the creeps.”

“How come?”

“He flirts with me. He’s like super old too. I can’t believe my dad lets him come over.”

“That’s gross.”

“Yeah, just thinking about having to eat at the table with him makes my skin crawl.” Vivi said.

“Well then listen to me and come over. Come on, please?” Meera begged.

“Fine. No promises though.”

Vivi arose from her bed and crept to the staircase. She peered through the handrail and saw the creepy black dude, but not her father, sitting at the dinner table and she scowled at him. She then descended the staircase to about half-way, craning her neck further down the kitchen until she spotted her father, scribbling away on a piece of paper.

“Daddy?”

Rishi looked up and immediately his wearied eyes shone with such intensity, “Yes, my little princess; my sugar bun; my shining star. What is it? Are you ready to eat?”

“Meera invited me over for a sleepover. Can I go?”

“Absolutely not,” Rishi said in a raised voice.

“But daddy!”

“I said no! Now stop asking.”

Vivi burst into tears, “It’s not fair that you don’t let me hang out with my friends.”

Priya turned around from the stove, wherein she was cooking, and followed the sudden noise. She quickly saw her daughter crying and turned to her husband.

“What is going on?” she said worriedly.

“Father won’t let me go out and see my friend!” Vivi said, raising her voice and throwing her hands in exasperation.

“It is dinner time.” Rishi retorted.

“So?” Priya shrugged. She turned back to Vivi, “Go ahead. I say that it is okay.”

“Really?” Vivi blinked her wet eyes. She got up and ran back upstairs, shouting, “Thank you, mum!”

Half-an-hour later, Vivi returned downstairs.

“No boys!” Rishi said.

“I know, dad.” Vivi groaned, slightly embarrassed that it was said in front of a guest.

Although she had no intention of finding a boyfriend, or even dating for that matter, Vivi felt a little resentful that the choice was not hers to make. It had all the time made her feel powerless. She sat down on the bottom step of the staircase and slipped on her white trainers.

“Make sure you call me every half-an-hour.” Rishi called out.

“Fine, dad!” Vivi said, biting her tongue.

She stormed out of the house.

Dom watched Priya cook as he impatiently fiddled with his fork and empty plate. His dark eyes were hungry and menacing like one black maelstrom. Sitting across from her husband, Rishi, he had seen enough of Priya over the last few weeks to ascertain her probable marital feelings: the silences between the couple, the sideways glances at the new neighbour at their dinner table, the way she swayed her hips absentmindedly as she cooked dinner for the two men behind her. The Indian woman was as hot as the spices she tossed onto the curry that she cooked. He chugged back a pint of cold Guinness. He smacked his wet lips.

“Rishi,” he said as he dug into his jeans. He pulled out a cigarette. He then placed it on his bottom lip so that it dangled like the dark impenetrable cloud of an impending divorce. The kind where no later explanation is needed for the child.

Rishi straightened and looked up at Dom nervously. He watched as the large black man lit the butt of the cigarette. It glowed red.

“Please don’t smoke in here. I ask that you respect my wishes.” He spoke fast and tight as though something was stuck halfway up his throat and his eyes darted from left to right and back again like a pinball.

Dom raised his eyebrow and glared at him. The sound of his heavy brown boot thudded against the stone-tiled floor as the white and brown cigarette bounced on his fat lip. He let the silence hang like a fog.

“Dr Dom, sorry. I keep forgetting that you prefer to be called by your full title.” Rishi gulped. He cleared his throat and forced a smile, “How lovely it is that you could come over…again. I must ask, however, whether you intend to invite us around for dinner one night at your own expense for a change.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Dom smiled back. The heavy tapping of his foot grew louder all of a sudden and he rocked back on his chair. “Your wife looks delicious.”

“Excuse me?” Rishi leaned toward Dom and away from the noise coming from the kitchen.

“Your wife’s cooking is delicious,” Dom raised his tone as though to mock Rishi’s poor hearing. It was deep and masculine. The complete opposite to Rishi’s timid and croaky voice.

“Oh, yes it is. You said last time that you were looking for a job. How has that been for you?” His throat croaked like frogs in a swamp.

“How has what been for me?”

“Your job search.” Rishi coughed again.

Dom smirked and stared intently at Rishi.

Even if I get a job, Rishi, I’m still gonna come over for dinner every night to flirt with your wife; and when your back is turned, that is when I’ll fuck your wife.

From across the table, his back to his wife, Rishi sat staring hopelessly at a stack of documents next to his plate. He groaned out loud.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Priya called from the kitchen.

Rishi let his head drop into his hands, “I have so much work to do.”

“Well, what do I keep telling you,” Priya spun around to face the dining room, “…about letting those coworkers push you around?”

“I know, I know.”

“You should really listen to your wife.” Dom grinned. The ciggerette had shrivelled at this point and he spat it out onto the floor. He crushed it with his foot and turned back to Rishi.

Come on. I just spat on your floor. Are you really gonna let me get away with that? You really do deserve what’s coming to you.

Rishi said nothing. It was all, however, written on his downcast face. He scrunched it and looked down, his eyes soggy with embarrassment and his lips curled with bitterness. He had a long oval face and wore large spectacles, which all but accentuated his flat and soft features. He was not by any means an overweight man, but in contrast to the fit and handsome black neighbour about to eat his food for the fifteenth time this month, he was anything but physically attractive for his age.

Perhaps it was in fact Priya’s cooking, he wondered, that kept this strange black man coming back over and over again to his house. It made sense since she was the one inviting him at all times. He was not entirely sure. Now and then he would turn to the dead black screen of the company laptop next to him and look at his own pudgy reflection with a grimace. His short black hair was receding.

“Dr Dom, can you keep a secret?” Rishi’s face lit up with excitement.

Dom rolled his eyes, “Sure.”

“For Priya’s birthday,” he looked back over his shoulder to make sure that his wife was not listening, and, leaning forward, whispered across the rectangular mahogany desk, “I have decided to take her to Paris!”

“Paris? How romantic.” Dom chuckled.

“She’ll love it. I’ll be such a good husband.”

I’ve all the time wanted to fuck a man’s wife on their romantic getaway.

As he watched Rishi’s expression glow the more he talked about the surprise, he felt deep in his stomach a pang of pity for the man.

Poor man. Should I do this to him?

“Do you think my wife will like it?”

“I don’t know,” Dom said and yawned.

The dining room, which was adjoined to the kitchen, was filled with the rich odours of home, and at every moment stirred around them both the heavy leathery scent of saffron, or the more peppery perfume of fresh red ginger. Occasionally, from the mountains of work he had been given by his coworkers, he would look over his shoulder with a gentle smile at his gorgeous wife cooking dinner; he could just see from where he was sitting the shape of her heart-shaped ass crying out for him to touch it, to caress it, to eat it later tonight. He shook his head. Although it sang out to him and only him, he had not touched Priya for many years. She would not let him.

Priya’s warm hands gripped tightly the handle of the frying pan as she jerked it from left to right and back again. She stared into its flat bottom, her dark brown eyes wide, her thick lips parted ever so slightly, startled at the burnt and ashy smell.

“Baby?” She shouted over the hissing of the pan.

“Yes?” Rishi called back. “Come here I can’t hear you.”

Priya carefully let go of the handle and tiptoed out of the kitchen. She was barefoot and up to her knee was without cloth, and then over her body only flowed silk and dress. Her breasts were moderately big, made even bigger by the thinness of her waist and the largeness of her hips. Her lustrous black hair cut down her centre line like a shard of glass and it kept its position as she hopped from one leg to another like a nervous schoolgirl as she waited for Rishi to turn around.

Dom stared wide-eyed as Priya clasped her small and womanly hands together, squeezing also her breasts between her elbows. She caught Dom’s gaze and they locked eyes for just a moment, but in that hair-splitting moment Dom could tell that the woman had not been fucked properly.

This was my superpower – I have cuckolded so many men in my life that I have developed a premonition for these things.

Rishi caught Dom’s ogling and he finally turned around to his hovering wife. “Yes?”

“I wanted to talk to you about our daughter.”

“What about our daughter?” He croaked.

“She has asked me to ask you if her curfew could be extended.”

Rishi laughed and looked at Dom, “Nothing good can come out of a girl asking for more freedom!”

“What do you mean, Rishi?” Priya asked worriedly.

“It means no.”

“But Rishi, an eighteen year old should be able to stay out longer than 9 PM.”

Rishi sighed, “9:30”

“Rishi!” Priya slapped him on the shoulder lightly.

“Okay, 10 PM. That is my final offer. If anyone found out I had a daughter coming home any later than that I would be the laughing stock of the whole village.”

Priya smiled. “Thank you, baby.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Also, can you help me clean up afterwards.”

Rishi threw his head back and laughed, “I wish I could, baby, but I have so much work to do.”

Priya’s eyes narrowed and she pressed her lips together in wondered, “But I’ll need help.”

Rishi sighed, “I suppose I can spare a few minutes to help you, but I have a deadline for tonight for this work.” He started to fidget with one of the floating pieces of paper on the table.

Priya crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side, “And what have I told you about working at the table?”

Dom smirked.

Rishi caught it and glared back. He shrugged, turning back to his wife, and said softly, “I have so much work to do.”

“Priya, you are wasted on this workaholic.” Dom winked.

Priya blushed, and a slow smile emerged between her dimpled cheeks. She turned back to her husband, but not without a quick glance back at the older man. Although she felt a warmth within her breast for the man beside her, an electric vibration tingled within her lower half when looked at their guest. She had not felt like this since her time in the boarding college all those years ago, when she first heard the other girls talk incessantly about the boys they had met over the summer.

“Are you okay?” Rishi asked. He placed a hand on her lower back.

“Yes,” Priya blushed. She gave Dom a sideways glance and squeezed tight her thighs.

Dom bit his lip and placed both of his hands on the table palms down. “I’ll tell you what,” he said, smacking his lips, “Since, as Rishi said, I’ve been eating here for the past couple of weeks, I’ll help you clean up Priya.”

Priya was flustered and she crossed her arms again over her voluptuous breasts. She was about to speak but then she quickly looked down at her feet.

“That’s very kind of you, Dom.” He turned back to Priya, “That means you can come upstairs with me…and you know.” He winked.

Priya pushed herself into Rishi’s arms, her hips pressed against his brown cheek. She threw her arm around his neck and bent down to kiss his scalp.

“I love you,” Rishi said softly.

“I love you too,” Priya said, casting a sideways glance at Dom again.

Dom studied her hourglass figure. His dark eyes slid down her entire body like a snake. She felt violated. She felt confused. She felt different. There was something about Dom that made her think that he was after her. Perhaps it was his stare, or the way he would accidentally grab her butt from time to time. She told her husband all of this, of course, but she never asked him to stop. There was no reason to. It was the only physical attention that she received in her life; except for the occasional kiss from her husband, she had not had an orgasm from another man for years. Perhaps, she wondered, Dom was trying to give her one. Priya shook her head and turned away from the men, brutally ashamed of her thoughts.

“Priya,” Dom said, raising his empty glass. “Come and pour me some more beer.”

Before Rishi could object, Priya left his side and strutted over to the towering black man. Dom watched as her big tits jiggled with each step.

Too bad about the dress. It’s gonna be in tatters soon enough.

Priya smiled brightly and leaned over. Her sweet floral perfume was as rich as wet grass and leaped out like a tiger and devoured his senses. His restless legs reflected the state of his mind, which roared like torrents the thoughts of desperation and he wanted to touch her; and so he did.

A couple blocks away, Vivi waited for Meera to answer the door. She loved the little blonde girl with all her heart, and she was trembling with excitement at her first ever sleepover. She was also small herself, but the big defining feature separating the two friends was Vivi’s sizeable breasts. She had all the time been self-conscious of this difference. As she waited on the front step, cold to the bone, she crossed her arms over her chest.

The door opened all of a sudden, but it was not Meera who answered. She could hardly make out the boy who stood in the doorway despite the flood of light from the streetlamp a few metres behind her. He paused there for a moment, ogling the big breasted Indian girl. By the time Meera had descended the stairs, Paul sported an erection in his trousers.

“Is that Vivi?” Meera said. She turned on the light.

“Meera.” Vivi said with relief.

Paul moved to the side and closed the door. He watched the two girls embrace. Under the electric bulb, Meera’s friend had long, black wavy hair, and she was the same height. The vanilla scent of Vivi’s perfume tickled his nose.

“You’ve met Vivi, right?” Meera asked Paul.

He looked into Vivi’s delightful brown eyes, “Yes, I think I’ve seen you before.”

“Nice to meet you,” Vivi said, before turning back to Meera. “Where are your parents,” she asked worriedly.

“They are working until tomorrow.” Meera started up the stairs, pulling Vivi along with her. “Come on, I have to show you something.”

Vivi felt an ache in her stomach. She thought what it was that Meera was so excited for her to see; and she thought why Paul was climbing the steps after them with the wry smile of an alligator.

“Should we not go outside and perhaps do something?” Vivi asked, pulling back a little from her friend’s grip.

Meera reached the top of the stairs and glanced over her shoulder, and said, dismissively, “Yeah, later. I promise.”

Vivi sighed as she entered the small hallway upstairs. She felt her heart thump in her chest. It was dark and absent, and if not for the guiding hand of her friend, Vivi would have been too scared to continue to the other end. When she had reached Meera’s bedroom, she was taken aback by its aesthetic. She noticed immediately that everything was drenched in a brutal black and grey, and that if it was not for the king sized bed in the corner, she would have mistaken it for a dark and dingy den of thieves. She pulled free her hand from Meera’s in disgust.

“You sleep here?” Vivi said, covering her nose. “I did not know that you were depressed.”

Meera chuckled, “Sometimes.”

“What do you mean? I want to do something outside.”

Meera went and opened the curtains above the bed, and said, looking out of the large square window at the poorly lit street below, “And go where?”

He stretched out his hand and grabbed her butt. Priya’s eyes widened and her cheeks became as ruddy as the morning sun. Fearing that her husband would see, Priya shuffled closer to Dom, hiding his arm with her torso. Her palms rested on the table and her tits hung down. She anxiously smiled at Rishi.

“Are you okay, baby?” Rishi asked.

“Yes,” Priya replied, flustered.

Dom looked up at her and smirked. “What color are your panties?”

“That’s inappropriate.” Priya muttered. She gave him a sharp look.

“Well?”

She glared at him, “I’ll ask you to leave.” Her cheeks were flushed.

Dom’s face fell flat. “Pour my beer.”

“Ah, yes.” Priya said. She lifted up her right hand and picked up the near-empty beer bottle. She shook it gently. “There’s hardly anything in here.”

Dom pressed his palm into her crack and she moaned softly. Rishi looked up suspiciously and studied him. Tilting his head in wondered, he thought why the black man had requested his wife to pour his drink when the man was more than capable of doing it himself. He started to sweat excessively and he pulled at his collar.

“Priya, baby, shouldn’t you be cooking dinner?” Rishi said.

Priya looked at Rishi, “Sorry.” She lowered her head.

“Come on,” Dom dug his long finger into her crack and wiggled it.

Priya closed her eyes and felt her heart thunder inside its cage. She bit her bottom lip and squeezed her butt cheeks tight in protest, but all it did was make it worse. Her hands trembled as she poured the rest of the beer into the glass.

“Good girl,” Dom said, before slapping her ass.

“Priya, I’m really hungry.” Rishi said weakly, avoiding Dom’s eyes. His nostrils flared.

Priya jerked herself away from Dom. This was not how her parents had raised her. But her parents were cruel and old and from a different generation. They forced her into this sexless marriage. They forced her. Her head began to spin with indecision and she felt weak. Anger suddenly churned her stomach like a horse mill as she fled into the hot kitchen. She leaned against one of the marble tabletops and drew in large swathes of air into her lungs. She needed sex desperately. She looked over her shoulder at Rishi and saw the back of his neck and she felt miserable: another night of cold and empty air between them. Without thinking, she gripped the black handle of the frying pan and imagined it was Dom’s cock. Through a series of quick crisp movements she moved up and down the handle in a rotational movement that would put a pornstar to shame.

Dom felt a twitch in his pants. He placed his hand on his crotch as he watched Priya walk back to the kitchen.

I want so desperately to fuck that enormous ass.

“Are you okay, Dom? You have been staring at my wife for the past hour.”

“I want to fuck your wife.” Dom said coldly. His eyes narrowed.

Rishi’s eyes widened and he leaned back. It was not an answer he expected. He slowly clutched the butter knife.

“You fucking what?” Rishi croaked, gritting his teeth.

Dom snorted and stretched, placing his hands behind his head.

What are you gonna do about it?

Rishi snarled, “Priya!”

Priya turned all of a sudden, but her hand accidentally grazed the hot stove.

“Shit!” She screamed. “I’ve burnt my hand!” Her shocked voice was loud and crisp, and both men rushed in.

But Dom, who was much taller than either of them, saw the red mark on the woman’s hand and felt his previous training as a doctor overtake him. He pushed apart Rishi and took hold of Priya’s slender forearm. He pulled her closer to his hard muscled body so that her big bosom was squished against his beating chest.

Before she could react, Dom bent her over the sink and turned on the cold tap. She slumped as the water sank into her hurt flesh. Her back was arched and her clothed ass hung in the air between the two men as she moaned with the same relief of an itch being satisfied.

NSFW: yes

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