MY WIFE SHYAMALA AND I MET ON THE INTERNET AND WE GOT MARRIED WITHIN A FEW MONTHS. I WAS UNABLE TO UNEARTH THE SKELETONS IN HER CUPBOARD. AS THEY SURFACED, I BECAME DEPRESSED, BUT BEING A HINDU, I PUT IT DOWN TO MY KARMA. I HAVE TO ENDURE THE EMABRRASSMENT AND HUMILIATION OF MY SMALL MANHOOD FOR THE SAKE OF THE MARRIAGE. THE LATE PRIME MINISTER INDIRA GHANDI HAD A PLAN WHEREBY COMMONWEALTH CITIZENS COULD COME AND SERVE IN THE INDIAN NAVY,
My wedding day was just the month before I turned into "equal rights woman”, meaning I did what men do all the time. I thought about me and no one else!!. My new Husband Ken and I had recently gotten married having met on the internet on Shaadi.com, an Indian marriage web site. At the mature age of 48, I’d been married once before and only been with 2 men in my lifetime during my first marriage, my husband and the incident I’m about to narrate.
Never once cheated, or thought of cheating on my first husband, even though we made our relationship official at the tender age of 20. It was an arranged marriage. Mohanlal was his name. We were from the same Nair Hindu community, so I had to be the submissive faithful wife. He was my first love, he struggled but managed to take my virginity. He had his share of women, and men, he was bisexual. Eight men and three women I know for sure because he told me. Quite a few more that he still denied.
Mohanlal was a boring lover, the only time I got my orgasm was when I masturbated, I was beginning to feel that I was frigid!!!
When he decided to join the Navy, it was a great move. I transferred Colleges so I could live with him. All went well. He had quite a few friends in the navy, some married, some single, some with children, some with girlfriends, some with crazy baby mammas, some with gold digging hood rats girl friends, and some with all the above. At the time in India, Prime Minister Indira Ghandi had a Commonwealth pact whereby citizens from Commonwealth countries could come to India and serve in our navy for three years. At the end of that period, they had the choice of returning to their home country or remain in India and become a citizen, depending on the Indian navy’s recommendation of course!
In the first month of my living on the naval base with him, I’d meet most of his friends and got acquainted. Most of them also becoming my friends as well. I guess sometimes a boyish personality attracts instant comfort and friendship. I wouldn't say I’m exactly drop dead gorgeous, but I held my own. Standing at 5'5, about 58 kgs, got a little belly but working on that, 34D cup breast, nowhere near sagging...just as perky as a teenger, and a ghetto booty to match, my friends often joked that I had a Black woman’s figure. I assume it was that looks which got me more than my fair share of stares in Bombay!.
Maybe not everyman’s type but most definitely the type for the kind of men I like. Thugs. Sexy, Black, thuggish ass men. That’s what kind of men Mohanlal befriended. I love Dark skinned dudes, and for some reason, my caramel dipped in milk colored skin always attracted them. A red bone is what you would call me if ever by chance you find yourself in the hood of the naval base. I really Thank God for creating me in the likes of sexy thugs, and these brown eyes could spot them a mile away!
My husband’s best friend was Muntubantu, a 24 years old African, dark and lovely, a wife, 2 baby mommas and a girlfriend. His whole life was one big drama. And in being so, his wife threatened to divorce him because in her words "he' s a compulsive liar". I guess he wanted to get away from the heat for a while so he asked my husband if he could stay with us just for a while until his wife, Fatima, cooled down. My husband gladly helped out a friend. I’m guessing that my Husband felt there was no need to worry of adultery because they both worked in the same unit, went to work and got off at the same time, which meant I would probably never be at home alone with Muntubantu. They would ride together every morning to work at 7am, Mohanlal usually got off at 5pm,while Muntubantu gets off at 3pm but he would wait for Mohanlal so they could ride home together.
When they both got home I would have dinner ready, we would eat together, play cards, watch a movie, we would just enjoy time. Every time I glanced at Muntubantu for longer than a glimpse, I would catch him staring at me. Or licking his lips. Those thick dark beautiful lips. His 5'11 frame did not match my husbands. His sun kissed dark skin smoothed over his every muscle, and contrasted with my husbands. His eyes were sexier than those of my husbands, being the same shade of light brown just like mine. Muntubantu being the older. Being an African, he concealed his age well!
I often compared them. I would say that my husband was the sexier of the two overall, in an Indian kind of way I guess. But if I had to pin point my favorite parts of them both. Muntubantu would beat him hands down. His lips! God blessed him. I often fantasized about those lips touching mine. After about a month of him being in our house, us flirting, thumping each other, him slapping my thighs in playful gestures. Just enough to turn me on, but not enough to alarm my husband of flirting or foul play. I was getting a bit confused. Sometimes I felt like he wanted me just as badly as I wanted him. Other times I felt like he didn’t, and other times I hoped that he didn’t because I didn’t want to be the "whore who fucked her husband’s best friend". The entire base would have been talking, as gosipping was the only activity bored housewives engaged in!!!
One day after Mohanlal and I had come back from our home state, Kerala, following our wedding, Muntubantu, who had gone back to Tanzania on R&R, called my husband and asked could he stay the night over because his wife was angry. Mohanlal agreed even though he had to work the night shift at his unit. Mohanlal went in to work at 7pm and Muntubantu arrived to our home around 9pm. Mohanlal wouldn’t return home until 7am the next morning.
I was cooking when Muntubantu opened the door with Mohanlal’s key that was loaned to him for the night. "Honey what did you forget?" I thought it was Mohanlal returning to get something so the fact that I stood in the kitchen cooking with my black negligee and no panties on didn’t mean a thing until he spoke. "Damn Shyamala." It was more like a loud whisper that made me jump out of my skin because I knew it wasn’t my husband’s voice. I doubt if he ever paid attention long enough for me to get that type of reaction. "Muntubantu get out of my bedroom!!"
I screamed as I ran to my bedroom to throw on some pants. As I stepped my foot inside my pant leg, I heard his voice again. "Why you got to do all that, it’s just me...". "I know, but I still can’t be walking around in my body exposed. IT IS UN-INDIAN!!!!!" I was nervous for some reason. "Why not? You don’t want me to see you? I wanna see you." He looked so sexy and serious. "You see me now move before my rice burns." Any excuse would do at that point. "I ain’t hungry right now." He never broke eye contact, looking me directly in the eyes with every word he spoke. "I still gotta go see about it, get out my way boy." I guess that was the magic word. "BOY?? who the fuck you calling boy?" He turned me around and bent me over the edge of the bed and pressed his erection against my ass "Do I feel like a boy to you Shyamala? Do I feel like a boy? I’m a man! You want a man to fuck your Indian ass?"
I was in shock, it’s what I wanted but I couldn’t handle the fact that he was actually doing it. "Move Muntubantu." "He eased off me and I turned around to look into his face. Then he kissed me. Put his right hand on my face and his left hand cupped my ass and he gave me the best kiss I’d ever had in my life. I knew those lips were capable of doing so. He puckered his lips and kissed me that way, then he nibbled my bottom lips, he finally slipped his tongue inside my mouth and we kissed that way. He broke our kiss and he removed his shirt. I just stood there like a damn fool watching him. Him looking me dead in the eyes while he did so. His stern face looked as if he was daring me to say stop. No worry, my mouth would not obey my thoughts, and the juices gathering in the crotch of my pussy exposed any lie I thought of telling to get out of the situation.
When he was fully undressed, he came, leaned into me and kissed my neck with passion.
He cupped my ass with both hands and lifted me onto the bed, lifted my legs up across his shoulders and snatched my panties off. "I bet dat pussy taste good as fuck" Every word he said turned me on even more. He dipped his head out of my view and between my legs. Before I could say no we shouldn’t do this, his tongue was swirling around my clitoris in rapid motion. Extremely different from how Mohanlal did it. He didn’t kiss my thighs, rub my clit with his thumb, finger me or any of that pre-bullshit.
He just got down there and went to town on my ass! I’ve had many orgasms from oral sex but never so quickly. I felt that beautiful feeling arriving not even 30 seconds into it. "Muntubantu what are you doing?" It felt like he had two tongues swimming all around my pussy and occasionally going in and out of my pussy as if he was fucking me with his tongue the reviving itself by sliding across my clit. "Oh shit, Muntubantu, what are you doing...ahh...yea...ohhhh shit, right there...ahhhhh." That shit felt too good. I could tell he was smiling when he answered me. "I’m spelling my name with my tongue." That was the best I had ever had. I came so good, didn't squirt, just came really hard. He finally came up for air and got on top of me and positioned himself so that the head of his dick gently caressed the tip of my clit while he whispered in my ear.
"Does He know that your pussy taste like Sour Green Apple Juice?" I giggled a little and suddenly gasped for air and tried to hold in a loud moan at the same time when I felt his dick glided vertically into my pussy. It felt so good. My Husband was a small man, he had weak and feeble erections.
Despite this, I was quickly able to accommodated Muntubantu's size.
His dick was so hard inside of my pussy, he lifted my ass up a little as he withdrew and that sent me into overload. He was touching the back of my walls and putting pressure on my spot. I was moaning so loud, I knew the neighbors were getting annoyed . "Ahhhhh..yea. Muntubantu, baby...fuck me baby....ohhhh shit baby..ahhhhh..ahh..ahhhhh!." I was feeling good. "Ummmm, Shyamala...baby.....pussy so fluking tight and wet....I knew you had that good shit............ahhhhh shit...what you doing?...how you...ohhhh shit....sssss....." I was contracted my pussy muscles around his dick finally flipping the script and driving his ass crazy! " Stop before I nut in you ….girl......ahhhhh...Shyamala...pussy so fuckin good baby......you'll fuck around and make a Nigga fall in love with your ass...." My every intention was being fulfilled. "You like this Muntubantu?" "Hell yea...you...ahhhhh sssss.....you know I........I.....I..ohhhh shit baby I’m cumming'..." He quickly pulled out and came all over my aching pussy. That shit was so good. I got up to take a shower and clean myself up. Before I made it to the door he stopped me and asked if I felt guilty for what we just did. I said no even though I kinda did. He said that it felt too good with me, almost too good to be true. My style, personality, and good sex.
He said I was the perfect type of lady for him and that he could not have sex with me anymore. I asked why, kind of disappointed. He said because I wasn’t someone that he could just fuck on the regular, I was someone that he cared about and that eventually he would catch stronger feelings for me, so we needed to leave it at that one time. There was a gap of about a month, then we resumed fucking and we had sex almost every time we were alone together.
At the end of his 3 years in the navy, Muntubantu had to return to Tanzania. The Commodore, Mr. Ramswarran, gave him a bad report, it was rumoured that he had fucked Mrs. Ramswarran and she was threatening to divorce her husband…in naval circles, that was tabooed. She had developed a taste for black meat!!!
I guess his wife was right...he is a compulsive liar !!! Mohanlal died of chronic TB, then I married Ken in 2004.
Ken is very broad minded. He has an inferiority complex, based on several facts.
1. His penis is small, a mere 4 inches
2. He suffers from premature ejaculation
3. He is highly stressed and lacks libido
4. He is dark skinned and I’m wheatish in complexion
5. He can’t speak any Indian language, and
6. He does have a penchant for black men
With all of that in mind, he encourages me to fuck young Black guys. I think he senses that I once tasted black meat. I must have inadvertently said something which I can’t remember!
Ken worships my feet and gives me money for expensive manicures and pedicures.
Since Ken lived and worked in Africa for almost two decades, whenever he saw a black guy in the streets of Mumbai he always engaged them in conversation. Those young Black boys with big feet, he remained in contact with. Ken had an empirical formula which relates foot size to cock size….and he’s very, very accurate!!!
He brings home a string of Black boys to our flat in Punarvasu and on every occasion, we have to bribe the security guard to let them in the building. As you know, Black men have a poor reputation in India, one clouded in crime, corruption and deceit!
Ken would watch the Black guys fuck me and shout encouragement to them, occasionally endeavouring to touch and rub their cocks.
WE BOTH ENJOY OUR LIVES, I WILL NOT WANT ANYTHING ELSE!!!