Conversations, revelations, confusions.
Trigger warning: I seem to be attracting a lot of frustrated idiotic incels and MRA types who don't seem to understand that fiction/fantasy are different from actual reality. So just a heads up for them. This story explores the details and consequences of willful infidelity in India. If that triggers you snowflakes, don't read it. If you still choose to read it and leave hateful or racist comments, that's on you.
I stood guiltily just staring at the two women in response to the question. Until now, I had gotten just hostility from them. Hostility that I found somewhat justifiable, given the situation that I was their husband's sex toy. But hostility that I also found somewhat unjustifiable, given that these were two of three wives he had. And as Zahra herself said, Sajid does that. He seduces and fucks women. I got seduced and fucked by him. So why were they treating me like this?
"I asked you a question." Zahra said calmly.
"She's here because she is a characterless slut who just wants to get fucked." Shabnam said and spat at me.
I turned my back on them and checked my phone for any new messages or emails. But there was no network coverage and I had received nothing new since the middle of the night. Tarun must be worried, I realized. I had seen a phone booth in the village. Maybe I could call him from there.
"Where are you going?" Zahra asked as I started walking.
"Phone booth in the village."
"You reek of sex. At least have the decency to wash up. Unless you want men and dog following you around sniffing your ass."
"Maybe she does." Shabnam added tartly. She was really starting to piss me off.
"Where's the bathroom?"
"Bathroom?" Shabnam snorted. "Rich city bitch thinks she is in a five star hotel. There is a wash pond five minutes on that side. That's where we bathe and clean up. Now that you are acting like one of us, that's what you will have to do."
"I'll come with you. I have to fill up some drinking water anyway. You drink water like a fish and if he's going to be banging you day and night, you will need it." Zahra said.
She picked up two metal pots and handed me one of them. I meekly took it and followed her. What kind of a world had I voluntarily entered, I thought horrified. No bathrooms and an open pond as the place to wash myself and bathe and also drink water from? I could have been back home with running water and a clean private bathtub. Instead here I was, getting insulted and having to do all these weird thing.
Zahra kept a stony silence for a minute or so. then she spoke up again.
"Why my husband? Why did you choose him instead of all the thousands of younger men from your own social status?"
"I...I didn't exactly choose him. It just happened."
"That's not what Shabnam says. She says you would be out and about in skimpy dresses tempting the construction laborers and ogling their bodies. Even among them, you would have found younger fitter men."
It was a valid question. And it least this time she wasn't being hostile but genuinely confused and curious.
"I was initially attracted to your nephew Rasul. I hadn't planned on an affair as such. But my eyes were initially on him."
I gave her a short summary of how this chapter of my life had started. How they came over to use the phone. And then how Sajid aggressively pursued me and eventually seduced me. I didn't give too many gory details, but enough for her to give her the basic picture.
"Hmmmm...I understand." she sounded a little sympathetic for the first time.
"Like I told you before, I was his first conquest. He pursued me very aggressively too. My family didn't approve of him. Said he was an arrogant prick of a man who would never care for me or be faithful to me. But I was young and naive and...well...like you, could not resist him physically. So I became his lover and soon his wife. He was cheating on me within a month of our marriage. First of many such instances."
"Aapa if I had..."
"Don't call me Aapa." she snapped.
"If I had known it would cause so many problems, I would never have gone through with it."
"Are you lying to me or to yourself? You know fully well that once you were in his thrall, you had no chance to escape what came next."
We had reached the pond by then. I was somewhat relieved to see that the washing pond was different from a hand-pump which was used for drinking water. I was still not sure about how hygienic it was to wash myself in that pond. But at stage, I did not have much of a choice. She was right that I reeked of sex. From the activities in the bus to the recent romp, I had not had a chance to clean myself in any way.
The pond was medium sized and looked reasonably clean, not mossy or brackish. There were a couple of other women there washing clothes. They were looking at me curiously. I approached the water. And stood at the edge tentatively not sure about what to do. Get naked and jump into the water? Or walk in with my clothes on and then take them off? In either case, I would be exposed out in the open. I looked around. There were no men around, but what if someone walked by?
You might wonder why would a woman who has already been exposed many times in various states of nudity to rickshawwallahs and masseuses and tattoo artists and construction workers and last night, the bus driver, would feel embarrassed now. I think the difference was that in those cases, I was submissively obeying Sajid and the situations were sexually charged. Besides, he was there to be a protector of sorts if things went out of hand. Here, out in the open under bright sunlight, I felt conscious as well as cautious.
"Be quick. I'll stand guard and make sure no peeping toms come by." Zahra said, as if reading my mind. "You can have a full bath at night like we women here do. For now, just clean that awful slutty stench."
I nodded and stepped closer to the water. Looking around, I raised my kurta, untied the salwar and quickly slipped it down with my panties and kept both on a rock. Then letting the kurta drop back to my knees, I started wading into the water. I slowly raised the kurta, inch by inch, as I got into the water, careful to not get it wet and also not flash even the women. Zahra had an eye on the approaches but would check me out once in a while as I entered the pond.
Eventually I reached waist deep water, let the kurta bunch up under my armpits and washed myself down there. The other two women weren't exactly staring, but did look over once in a while at the strange sight of a rich young city memsaab washing herself in there like paupers. I felt sufficiently clean in a minute or so of washing although I made a mental note to get soap next time. If there even was a next time. Every experience I had was making me think about running back to my actual husband's home right away. But I was here for a reason.
I started wading out, my kurta still rolled up over my bra when Zahra said,
"Wait a minute."
I stopped. Two young men rode by on a bicycle slowly, craning their necks. I instantly lowered the kurta over my bra and up to my waist. They might still have caught a flash. They stared at my face and chest as they passed. I blushed and looked uncomfortable.
"Okay you can come out now." she said. "This is part of village life."
I walked out and Zahra handed me a thin small towel no bigger than the hand towels we used in the bathrooms back home. I put it under my kurta to dry my thighs, pussy and my ass as much as possible. And then slipped my panties and salwar back on. As I did so, I heard the other two women laughing. I looked at Zahra confused.
"They saw your ass tattoo and know it spells my husband's name." she flatly said. "Now you will be the talk of the village. He has a decades long reputation for such things anyway."
Blushing, I avoided eye contact with them. We went to the hand-pump and filled up the two pots with drinking water. Then we started walking back, holding one pot each over our hips.
"If it is too heavy, you can take breaks." she said. Her voice was still flat and brusque but at least she was showing some concern for me now.
"No, it's fine." And it was.
"I can see why he likes you." she said.
I looked at her, confused by this strange segue.
"I am not just talking about your looks. Any man would be attracted towards a woman with that pretty face and that curvy buxom figure. But you have something more that is important to keep up with Sajid. And that's strength and stamina." she continued. "This is probably the first time you are carrying a big pot of water in your life. And you hardly feel the stress. Took me years to build up that strength and stamina."
I wasn't sure what to say. Was this a compliment or an insult? I had no idea. So I just nodded.
"And that too right after he pounded you hard. Most of us women, we can't keep up with him. He just pounds and bangs and pounds and bangs and..." she stopped and inhaled a little as if recalling an earlier memory.
"He is not gentle." I said, feeling compelled to say something.
"No, he is not. That is part of the reason he hops from woman to woman. But you...you are different. Your general fitness, slim waist, but below it, those fleshy melon-like buttocks with the firm hips, those muscular thighs... you seem like you can keep taking all that he wants from you and still be ready for more when he gets hard again."
This part was true. Sajid had mentioned this himself a couple of times, back in the day when we still had actual conversations and he still paid me compliments. Once we started having sex, the frequency just kept going up and up and up. From once a day to very soon multiple times in a few hours. And although I felt a little tired after long sessions, all I needed was ten minutes of rest and drinking some water to be ready again. I never once turned him away out of exhaustion or lack of desire. He used to compliment me on my insatiable hunger and stamina all the time.
"Yes." I simply said.
"And you like that, right? That's why you followed him here? You're addicted to his dick and his libido?"
"Maybe." I said, feeling conscious about how well she had read my situation and my driving motivations in going from a simple housewife to a complete harlot.
She stopped and put her pot of water down for rest. I did the same although I could have kept walking. She sat on a rock silently and looked up at me as if expecting me to talk more. Until now, she had done most of the talking. And in her face, I saw real curiosity and a little compassion. I saw the woman who had first experienced and embraced Sajid's bizarrely irresistible sexual force almost four decades ago. And I felt like opening up to her.
"It's like he has changed me at my core. I was perfectly happy with my sex life with my husband by the way. There was nothing wrong or unsatisfactory about our sex life. And sex was something I always enjoyed. But it was just one part of my life. With Sajid getting a hold over me...I slid so fast, I can't believe it. My initial thoughts were just about some idle curiosity regarding another man's touch. Maybe some kissing and groping. I didn't want to slide further than that. I didn't plan to. But the speed with which he went from just groping me to bedding me, despite my initial crush being on Rasul was unbelievable. This old ugly man was doing what he wanted and I slowly kept going alone with it. It's like he is capable of mind control. At least in the initial days I had some say or control. But once I went all the way with him, something inside me completely snapped. Sex was all that I could think of all the time. I kept waiting and longing for the next fuck, the next orgasm, any time of the day. It took all my concentration and willpower to focus on my son when he was home. And on my husband. And do my household chores. But when my son was off to school or at a relative's house and my husband was at work, and Sajid came by, I just..."
I stopped, a little breathless after the rapid monologue. There was a short moment of silence as she looked at me in the eye.
"I understand. I remember how it was." she nodded. "It doesn't last though."
"What do you mean?"
"That sex-crazed phase you describe? I went through that slide myself. And it felt thrilling. But it doesn't last. For him I mean. He got bored of me soon. Started cheating. There were a few women I knew about and god knows how many I didn't know about. By the way, 95% of Muslim families in this country are monogamous. You know the only real reason he married Fatima and Shabnam?"
"Sex is why he got attracted to them. He only married them because of social pressures and compulsions. Shabnam who is about your age, her parents found out about their affair and threatened him with dire consequences if he didn't do right by her. So he had to marry her or risk a family feud. And Fatima before that, she was like you. Married woman. No kids though, because her husband was impotent or something. Still, when the husband found out, he gave her a triple talaaq and kicked her out. And she had nowhere to go. She was living in the fields and was close to starving when I convinced him to marry her just to do the decent thing."
"Oh." I had no idea about all this. But then why would I? I had never shown any real curiosity about Sajid's family or his past until recently. All I would think about in my waking and some of my sleeping moments was getting fucked by him and my next orgasmic fix.
She got up and started walking and I followed her. Soon we were near the hut.
"I have to go call my husband." I said.
"Hmmm. He knows?" she arched her eyebrows.
"No, he doesn't."
"He didn't notice the tattoo?"
"I have managed to hide it so far." I had been honest with her earlier, but there was a limit to how honest I could be with anyone, as I had recently discovered.
"How did you manage to come here?"
"I told him I was visiting a sick aunt."
Outside the house, Sajid was fully clothed and talking to a couple of men who eyed me as I passed by. Some of the kids had returned and were milling around. The other two wives were nowhere to be seen. I later learned Shabnam had gone to visit a relative and Fatima was taking a long nap to get over the exertion of the fuck session.
As I walked into the main part of the village, I got a lot more longer glances than before. I kept my eyes on the ground. Thankfully, no one came up to make conversation. I entered the phone booth, and made the call.
"Hi it's me." I said.
"Oh thank god. I was getting worried." Tarun answered. "Did you see my dozen texts?"
"There's no connection here." I said truthfully.
"Hmm...so how is the final fuck holiday going?" Tarun whispered and I assumed our son was nearby.
"It's going good."
"Tell me some details. I am so horny just thinking about the possibilities." he was still so eager about this, even after I got my ass tattoo-ed with another man's name.
"Tarun! I am at a public phone!" Also true.
"And how has it been walking around in a burqa when outdoors? Has anyone at the lodge you're staying at suspected anything? How is the lodge by the way? Anything risky?"
I had to wait a second to answer. It was getting difficult keeping all my lies straight in between the honesty. To Tarun, to Sajid, to Zahra, and to myself. It hurt the most to lie to Tarun though, who had been nothing but supportive and understanding. The only thing he worried about was my safety.
"No, it's been safe and discreet so far. The lodge is ok, very basic but fine." I started lying. "The burqa is fine too. I got used to it. Besides, it's not like we are outdoors a lot."
"Hahaha, you're such a slut!" he chuckled. He had always been not just supportive but even enthusiastic about every slutty thing I did.
"Stop!" I said blushing. At least this time that word wasn't an insult.
"Well, hope he makes the most of his last few days with you." my husband and then got serious. "By the way, I need to talk to you about Apu's school transfer when we move to Delhi. And about the packing of the kitchen stuff."
And then we spoke about our impending move to the nation's capital. Tarun had gotten a big promotion and we had to shift really soon. In less than a week in fact. So Tarun had not objected when I said Sajid wanted to take me away on one last sex-filled fling at a small tourist location. Nothing fancy or risky, just some quality time together before a final goodbye. We would stay in a simple lodge and I would always be covered in a burqa in public. And we would take all safety precautions.
This lie to my husband was timed with the fact that Sajid was going back home to his village for a week. To Sajid, I had not yet revealed that my husband had been transferred. It was a lot of work remembering all the lies to all the people.
I finished the long conversation with Tarun about all the logistics about shifting to Delhi and then spoke to my son for a while, before hanging up and heading back. Back to Sajid's house. Back for my first night with him and his wives.
It was getting dark. In more ways than one.