Divya’s A small town Indian woman Degeneration Chapter 2 – Final Part

Divya’s A small town Indian woman Degeneration Chapter 2 – Final Part

Divya’s newfound assertiveness and her will to try and lead a decent traditional married life started serving her well. She had effectively neutralized the hold Jose had over her. The job did mean a lot to Jose, so after that time she destroyed his phone, he decided to abandon or at least suspend his plans to bed Divya again.

He taught her driving, without making any passes at her or even making an references to their brief fling. In a few days, our fast learner heroine felt confident enough to take the driving test and got her license easily. She was given one of the many sedans the family owned to use as hers. This meant Jose exited her day-to-day life.

On to the other fronts. Divya just avoided going to Patel’s grocery store altogether. When she was told to buy Indian groceries, she’d go to one of the many other Indian grocery stores that dotted the Dallas area.

Patel was so smug and self-confident in his easy seduction of Divya that he was sure she would come back and spread her legs for him again on her own. When a few days passed by and she didn’t turn up, he got a little worried. He had not taken her phone number, so there was no way to contact her. He knew where the family lived, but couldn’t think of a discreet way to contact her without raising questions. When a couple of weeks passed without Divya returning, he started getting antsy. And every time a woman walked into his store, he’d look up expectantly, hoping it was Divya.

Kelly sent some messages in the following days. But Divya just ignored and delete them right away. She finally set a screenlock password and always made sure to clear her trash folder too, having figured out how Jose was able to access those deleted messages. After Divya stopped responding to messages, Kelly took the hint and stopped messaging her Too. She and Chad had an active sex life anyway.

Divya soon got settled in the groove of her life as a dutiful housewife. Sex with Mayank was reasonably regular at 3-4 times a week. Some days, he would last longer than his usual 5 minutes. Other days, he’d cum in 2-3 minutes.

Divya had started sucking his modest dick regularly, which he loved. But he still hadn’t made any move to reciprocate the gesture by going down on her. Divya felt disappointed by this, but was too shy and diffident to demand it. She just got used to masturbating herself when she was at home.

Pretty soon, days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months. And Divya had completed six months as a married woman. With the exception of the wild adventures at the honeymoon and the dalliances with Jose and Patel, Divya had been a good girl.

Divya was happy with herself for sticking to her resolution of self-control for all these months very easily. She had been worried that Patel would make some moves but the old man, mindful of how rich and powerful her family was, had given up on her. Mehra sent her an email saying his visa had been rejected. So that took care of that problem too. At least until she returned to India. Divya was smart enough to remember that Mehra had hundreds of naked pictures and videos of her that he had accumulated throughout their affair. And that there would come a time when she would have to deal with the situation in a permanent way. But as long as Mehra was in India and she was in Texas, all she had to do was send friendly replies to his emails and he would not get upset enough to publish those pictures and videos.

In the seventh month of her marriage, there finally occurred some developments that first started creating rumblings of unease in the state of calm.

Over that period of time, through regular conversations with Mayank and his family, Divya had come to know that the family business wasn’t as hunky-dory as it appeared from the outside. The motels they owned were losing money to competition and costs kept mounting. The import-export business was also showing reduced margins. And the cleaning and maintenance service company they owned was facing problems with employee churn. Overall, the family was okay financially. But it wasn’t growing as rapidly as ambitious Mayank wanted. He had tried to close a deal during his trips to Seattle that would ensure them of an exclusive contract with a major corporation for their cleaning and maintenance service that would allow them to expand into other markets. But the deal had fallen through.

As Divya came to know about the problems of the business, her sharp brain was able to figure out a couple of solutions. But when she had mentioned them to her husband, she had been told to focus on running the household.

Mayank was still trying to get the deal going with a couple of other similar corporations. And it was in regard to this, that he came home and told Divya one day,

“Honey, I have a meeting at the country club tomorrow with a couple of potential clients. They’ve asked me to bring you along since it’s a casual social setting.”

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“Oh, is this about the multi-state contract?” Divya curiously asked.

“You don’t worry your pretty little head about that.” Mayank kissed her on the forehead and said. “Just wear a nice elegant sari and be my eye candy.”

Divya felt disappointed at being shut out of the business decisions again, but made her peace with it.

The next day, Divya, dressed in a black sari with golden sequins stepped out of the posh country club with her husband as the valet took their car for parking.

“Mr. and Mrs. Vyas?” the attractive young woman at the reception smiled and asked.

“Yes.”

“Welcome to the club. Mr. Bashir is at the tennis court. Mark here will escort you.”

Divya and Mayank followed the smartly dressed attendant through the massive and ornately designed country club. Divya had never been to such a huge place full of rich and powerful people. Although Mayank’s family was rich, they led a pretty simple life. Divya noticed that all the people in the lounges, seating areas, restaurants, and other rooms they passed through, were wearing designer clothing. She felt glad that she had chosen such an elegant sari or she would have felt out of place.

Finally they were taken to the tennis courts outside. Just a minute in the outdoor harsh sunlight of Dallas’ 45 celsius heat made Divya feel not so glad to be wearing a sari. It was scorching.

“Mr. Vyas!!” a lean tall man with a tennis racket in his hand called out as they were led to the edge of the court.

“Salam-alekum, Sheikh Bashir!” Mayank waved and said.

Divya looked at Sheikh Bashir. He was a tall wiry man in his 60s wearing crisp white tennis shorts and a crisp white polo short. She noticed that he was also wearing a red and white checkered kufiya around his head like most Arab men do. Divya first thought it looked odd with his tennis clothes, but then as her hair started feeling warm with the intense heat, she thought it was actually a smart choice.

Bashir came over and shook hands with Mayank.

“So glad you could join us.” he said affably.

“Sheikh Bashir, my wife Divya.”

“Namaste, pretty lady!” the sheikh folded his hands and smiled. Divya noticed that he had a gaunt face with high cheekbones and a carefully manicured goatee.

“Namaste.” she smiled. He seemed very charming.

“You are looking absolutely stunning in that sari, if you don’t mind me saying so.” Bashir said as he led them to some lawn chairs under wide umbrellas.

“Thank you.” Divya politely said taking a seat. Mayank sat down next to her.

“This is my personal valet Musa.” Bashir said as the young Arab who had been playing tennis with Bashir walked over from the other side of the net and joined them. “Please let him know what you would like to drink. It is a hot day.”

Mayank and Divya both told the strapping young man that they’d like iced teas and he left to get them.

Mayank and Bashir talked shop for a few minutes as Divya sat there quietly, occasionally dabbing the sweat off her forehead. She realized that Bashir was occasionally stealing glances at her and smiling. Musa arrived with their iced teas and Divya sipped on hers, feeling glad to have something cool to offset the heat of the sun that even under the umbrellas, was strong.

“…so I will need to take a look at your books. And have my accountants also discuss things next time.” Bashir said.

“Sure. I will send them over later today.” Mayank said.

The initial discussions seemed to have been concluded. The two men shook hands and smiled. Mayank seemed happy at the positive response he had received from the rich Arab.

“How about a game of tennis?” Bashir asked, reaching for his racket.

“I’d love to.” Mayank said. “But I am not dressed for it.”

“That’s not a problem. The club has a lot of clothes in the locker room for visitors. Pick out what fits.” Bashir said. “You too, Mrs. Vyas.”

Divya was taken aback. She thought the invitation to play tennis was only directed at Mayank.

“I don’t know how to play tennis.” she said.

“What’s there to know? You’ve seen it on TV, right? You know the basics?” Bashir responded.

“Yes.”

“So just give it a try. We don’t want to make you feel left-out. And it’s a wonderful game to at least try.” he was politely insistent.

“I am not…” Divya started objecting again, but Mayank interrupted her and said with a tone of finality.

“She’ll play.”

Mayank didn’t want to offend his potential client. And he knew that Arabs were generally quick to take offence if rebuffed on minor things.

Ten minutes later, the young Indian couple was back on the tennis court, having changed into the proper gear. Mayank was in a white polo shirt and shorts like Bashir and Musa. Divya had picked the longest skirt she could find, which went down to her knees. And ta white polo shirt as well. Although the shirt she picked for her body frame was a little snug around her huge tits. She was feeling a little self-conscious but did not want to disobey her husband.

Mayank loved how hot his young wife looked even in these simple clothes. How smooth her calves and shins looked under the skirt. How the sides of the skirt bounced around when she walked giving glimpses of her thighs. And how splendid her tits looked tightly contained in the white shirt. He made a mental note to have Divya buy more such clothes to model for him in the privacy of their bedroom.

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Musa fetched the couple some rackets. And soon the four of them were positioned to play doubles. Bashir and Musa on one side, and the young Indian couple on the other side.

Mayank served first. Bashir hit back a simple backhand shot towards Divya. Our young heroine had never played tennis, but knew the basics. She sprinted towards the ball, stretched out her racket arm, and hit a forehand shot as hard as she could. Her boobs bounced up and down generously under the shirt. The ball flew over the net at a decent pace and landed right in front of Musa who couldn’t return it properly.

“15-0. Nicely done, Mrs. Vyas.” Bashir clapped. “Are you sure you’ve never played before?”

Divya blushed.

“Good shot, darling.” Mayank rubbed her back proudly.

Mayank’s next service was directed at Musa. He returned it powerfully towards Divya’s left. And this time she whipped out a backhand shot, surprised when it landed properly. Bashir was able to lob it over the net. Divya ran forward faster than Mayank and tried to return it but it hit the net.

“15-all. Good effort.” Bashir said.

During this point, Mayank had loved how Divya’s skirt flew a little in the back when she ran ahead of him, giving the faintest glimpse of her panties. And he loved how her big boobs swayed as well. Bashir and Musa had also noted appreciatively how alluring this young Indian beauty looked.

The four of them played a few games. Although Divya was competent at the return game for a newbie and Mayank, who had played tennis before, was quite good, they were no match for the two Arabs. Divya had trouble with the service as well, which is always the toughest part of tennis. Soon the Arabs had won all 4 games.

Throughout the game, Divya had tried her best to play well and had partly succeeded. Running around on the court, showing glimpses of her thighs and with her big boobs bouncing around, she made quite a sight. Bashir had been admiring her beauty without trying to stare too much. He felt envious of Mayank for having such a hot young wife and decided to take the opportunity to spend some time close to her.

“It’s been very one-sided so far.” Bashir said when they won the next game too. “Why don’t we mix the teams?”

“Sure.” Mayank said, happy at the opportunity to play next to Bashir and bond with him a bit more. It was sure to help his chances in the deal. But Bashir had a different configuration in mind.

“Musa, you go join Mr. Vyas. And Mrs. Vyas, you can come over to this side. I’ll give you some pointers about your service.”

Divya looked at her husband to seek approval. Mayank, not wanting to offend Bashir, nodded. And Divya walked across to the other side.

“Let me give you one pointer about how to stand when someone else is serving. See, you position yourself in the middle. Now, bend over, almost 50 degrees in the waist…”

Divya did as was told. Her breasts swung forward straining against the fabric. Bashir appreciated the close-up look and rightly surmised that they were double D. He moved his eyes to her big round butt which was jutting out. The skirt fabric shaped the contours of her hips and buttocks nicely. And now that she was bent over, her ass looked even more inviting. Bashir felt a primal urge to just start humping her right there, but he stopped himself.

“Now make sure your knees are nice and limber. So you can move in either direction. Move your hips sideways to make sure. Yes good. Now your grip.”

Divya felt a jolt of electricity surge through her as Bashir gently put his hand on her hand to correct her grip. His kufiya swayed above her head and she could smell the musky sweat of the lean tall old man. It had been months now since a man apart from her husband had come so close to her. Her body, on a diet of only Mayank, reacted greedily. But she controlled herself.

“Yes, this way. And hit the ball by moving your arm in the shoulder, not the elbow.” the charming Arab felt the smooth skin of the nubile young woman’s hands under the guise of correcting her grip. He had detected how Divya had reacted to his touch. He was pleased to note that she didn’t seem to find his touch unwelcome. He spent a little longer than necessary touching her hands and arms to give her tips.

Mayank watched from the other side as the old Arab was authoritatively giving his wife tennis lessons. He could see that Bashir found Divya attractive. As someone who knew tennis himself, he saw that the advice Bashir was giving her was correct. In fact Mayank himself could have done all that. But he saw that the touching and stroking was a little more than needed. Anyone else in Bashir’s place, Mayank would have ticked off. But the contract played on his mind. Besides, Bashir wasn’t doing anything excessive or obscene.

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The newly formed teams started playing. The game was indeed a lot more competitive this way. Musa was quite good and he and Mayank established a nice rhythm soon. Bashir kept saying positive things to Divya, giving her relevant tips, and her game also improved. After every few points, Bashir would touch her again on her arms to correct some technical aspect. Bashir was also loving the fleeting glimpses of Divya’s panties and the look at her creamy thighs he got when she would run or jump in front of him.

Divya herself was having a hard time controlling her baser desires. Every time Bashir stood near her, touched her, spoke to her, something inside her cried out with happiness. He had a confident and charming personality. She could feel the strength in his arms every time he returned a shot or served the ball. And the worst part was, she found her eyes curiously wandering towards his crotch a couple of times and wondering what he was packing down there. She mentally kept scolding herself to focus on the game and not send any signals to the powerful old Arab.

“Let’s take a break please.” Divya said breathlessly. She had been sweating a lot under the hot Dallas sun.

“Good idea.” Bashir said, and led her to the lawn chairs.

Mayank and Musa joined them from the other side. Musa left to fetch everyone some drinks.

“You’re a very lucky man, Mr. Vyas. You have a wife who is not only beautiful, but also athletically talented.” Bashir said, making Divya blush.

“Thank you.” Mayank smiled politely. “Does your wife like to play tennis?”

“Which one? I have six wives.” Bashir smiled. “The youngest is 25. She prefers art. The oldest is 63. She can’t even spell tennis.”

Divya wasn’t surprised to hear that the Arab had multiple wives. She knew it was a custom in the community. However, she was a little surprised to hear that his youngest wife was 25. The old man looked fit of course, but to have a wife less than half his age seemed unusual.

As they all had drinks that Musa brought them, Mayank turned the topic to business again. Divya felt that he was making a tactical mistake. She felt he was over-selling the abilities and coming across as too desperate. She could see that Bashir was getting a little bored at the discussion. He kept stealing looks at Divya’s ample bosom. But Mayank was too engrossed in his pitch to notice.

“What do you think, Mrs. Vyas?” Bashir suddenly said.

“About what?” Divya asked, taken aback.

“Do you think a relationship between us…I mean our companies…makes sense?”

“Of course.”

“What about the specifics?” he asked.

“Whatever my husband says is right.” Divya dutifully replied.

“Hmmm.” Bashir said and took a long pause.

Mayank looked at the pondering Arab expectantly.

“Mr. Vyas, I am quite impressed with your pitch. And I also get a good personal vibe from you, which I consider very important. I see the potential, not only of giving you the maintenance contract, but I might also be interested in investing in your company and helping it expand into other markets like California and Florida.”

“That…oh my god…that would be fantastic!!” Mayank stood up, excited. This was an additional bonus.

“Yes, but I still have to do all the due diligence. It’s not a done deal yet.” Bashir cautioned him.

“Of course.” Mayank said.

“How about this?” Bashir said. “I plan to spend the weekend at my lake house about an hour away. Some of my managers and accountants will be there. Why don’t you and Mrs. Vyas join us?”

Divya’s sixth sense flared up. She had no say in business decisions. Why was she expected to go along?

“What will I do there?” she politely said. “Besides, I will have chores to do at home.”

“I insist, Mrs. Vyas.” Bashir said. “It’s a lovely lake house. I promise you that you will have a good time.”

“We’ll both be there.” Mayank replied, not wanting to let this opportunity slip because of something minor.

“It’s settled then!” Bashir said, getting up. he shook hands with Mayank.

He then offered his hand to Divya, who politely shook it. Even as she did, she felt another tiny jolt pass through her entire being.

That Saturday morning as Divya drove with Mayank to Bashir’s lake house, she felt an uneasy foreboding. She was wearing another elegant but simple sari.

Just in the couple of hours at the country club, there had been palpable sexual tensions between her and the lanky old Arab. He was clearly a very charming and skilled man, well-versed in dealing with women. After all, he had six wives! Even without doing anything explicitly erotic, he had managed to get Divya’s engine running. She felt really paranoid about what would happen spending an entire weekend with the man.

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Divya’s A small town Indian woman Degeneration Chapter 2 – Final Part

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