This story is part of the American guy’s journey to India series
I was lucky that from an early age, my travel bug was nurtured by my parents, allowing me to explore the world. Needless to say, over the years I have had a number of amazing encounters and experiences with women from all different corners of the world.
Japan, China, Thailand, Sri Lanka, India, Pakistan, Egypt, Jordan, Israel, Morocco, South Africa, and all across Europe, diverse women of all different nationalities educated me in the ways of the world. But it is India that I keep returning to, who always seems to welcome me with open legs!
I never lacked finding a willing woman, young or old, single or married, working class or upper class who was open to a sexual affair. What strikes me most though about India is that compared to any other country where I have spent time, Indian men are the most open to being cuckold! More often then not, it was a husband or boyfriend who set me up with their partners. That was my first encounter with an Indian woman, with her husband secretly watching me seduce, lick, and then fuck, his beautiful, shapely wife. It is a memory I hold dear.
I first visited India as a sophomore at university studying economics, when I was 19 years old. I was selected for a special study-abroad program that would spend two months at Delhi University and one-month visiting different places to observe alternative development models. This was in the mid-1990s when I first landed in Delhi. I am American, stand about 6 feet high, which is about 183 cm., and am quite trim with light brown hair.
After the long journey to Delhi, I was exhausted and unsure of where I was. The program arranged homestays for us, or what in India is referred to as paying-guest accommodations.
We arrived late at night and were taken straight to our homestays. It was past midnight and I was greeted by a man in his late 40s. He showed me my room, a separate living quarter that included a sitting room or study area. He then left and returned with a very sleepy-looking woman, who I was later to learn was 44 years old.
Gopal and Indrani were their names, though I learned quickly to call them uncle and aunty. I could not help but notice that Indrani was quite a stunning-looking woman, even in her raw state of being woken up in the middle of the night. She was probably about 5 feet 3 inches, no more than 55 kg, very thin, with amazing breasts that swayed in her kurta, being braless. I could not help but check her out.
In the morning, I arose and had proper introductions to the family. Besides Gopal and Indrani, there was Nila, their 21-year-old daughter who now was doing an MA in English, and a younger son, Subir.
While Nila was closer to my age and quite attractive, I had a hard time keeping my eyes off of Indrani. Her full curves drew my attention and her radiant smile made me feel very welcomed. After Gopal, Nila, and Subir went off to work and school, I was left alone with Indrani who graciously showed me around their apartment and then gave me instructions on how to work the hot water heater in my bathroom.
When she turned the tap to test the water, it seemed it was set for the overhead shower, rather than the tap, and she ended up drenching herself! She just happened to be wearing, much to my great fortune, a white kurta. It was soaked and her bra-encased breasts were clearly on display. Even her bra became a bit translucent, allowing me to see her dark nipples, which became quite hard when she noticed me staring.
As much as I enjoyed eyeing Indrani and spending time with Nila and some of her friends over the next two weeks, I was well-behaved, not wanting to make any major social faux pas. However, one evening when the women were out visiting a relative and Subir was doing tuition, Gopal and I had a chance to chat and visit. That is when my life changed.