“Tanay.” my wife said one night after dinner after putting our 8-year old son Arun to bed.
“Yes, Jaya?” I replied.

“How serious are you about the whole open marriage thing?”

“What?”

“You know, what you keep bringing up every few weeks. That we should experiment with other people.”

I looked at Jaya with surprise. She had a curious expression on her face. Wow, she had actually brought up the topic herself! My heart jumped with joy.

Jaya and I are both 32 years old, and have been married for ten years. Before that, we dated for four years in college. People talk about seven year itches. It has been fourteen years of us being faithful to each other. Obviously, a lot of sameness and staleness had set in. There was also the fact that we had lost our virginities to each other, so we had never been with anyone else.

Like most men, I started flirting with the idea of experimentation. Threesomes, foursomes, wife swapping, were all things I read about online. For years I had fantasized about sharing my wife with someone else. And sleeping with other women. But for years, I kept my fantasies and thoughts to myself.

I finally decided to broach the subject soon after we turned thirty, and we had been through an exceptionally mediocre sexual phase. We were having sex about once a fortnight, and not memorable sex at that. Which was a shame. Because my wife was still a hot woman. In fact, even hotter than when we had started dating, if that were possible.

Childbirth and subsequent years had been good on her, and she had gone from being a slim svelte pretty young lady with medium sized boobs to a curvy attractive woman with big boobs. After Arun was born, she quit her job and became a full time stay at home mom. But it did not make her swell up like some other housewives. She still had a flat stomach, but everything else was curved in the most delectable ways. I too was physically in a much better shape than in college. I worked out regularly, had lost the tiny tire I used to have around my belly, and still had a thick head of hair, unlike some of my balding ageing friends.

Both of us got complimented on how great we looked, especially by friends who had let themselves go. So the lean sex phase, at least for me, was not because I stopped finding my wife attractive. I just craved some newness.

When I first brought up the idea, Jaya got really upset. She accused me of having my eye on some young hot woman, which is why I was broaching the topic of an open marriage. I protested saying I wasn’t looking for a license to cheat. If I wanted to, I could have affairs on the side (which was true). But I was interested in both of us exploring our horizons. Looking for variety. With complete honesty. I wanted us to be “open” in the truest sense of the word.

But Jaya would have none of it. That fight lasted a day, and I dropped the subject. Since then, I would try to bring it up casually. Maybe forward her a story from literotica. She always reacted angrily in the initial days. But of late, she had started just calmly turning my idea down.

Two years later, it seemed like I pretty much had no chance of any experimentation. So I had not broached the subject in months. Which is why Jaya bringing it up by herself delighted me. And I could not help just grin at her stupidly.

“Well? How serious are you?” Jaya asked again.

“Very serious, Jaya.” I said, with a smile.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, absolutely. Why?”

“Have you thought about the repercussions of fantasy turning into reality? It is one thing to fantasize about your wife sleeping with someone else. To deal with the practical implications is a wholly different thing.” she said.

“I know it won’t be easy. But it’ll work both ways. You will also have to deal with the idea of me with someone else.”

“To be honest, that has been the biggest stumbling block for me for this open marriage idea.” Jaya tilted her head and said. “I don’t know if I can stomach the idea of you sleeping with some other woman. Even if it is when I am around like in a threesome. Hell, especially if I am around.”

“Okay.”

“But you are alright with the idea of me fooling around with other men? Really?” Jaya asked.

“Yes, I am. All that matters to me is honesty. I am alright with the idea of you with other men.” I said with conviction. I had fantasized about it for years. Yes, getting to sleep with other women would be great. But honestly, what turned me on much more was the idea of my beautiful wife with someone else. With or without me being around.

“I agree that you think you are. But I don’t know if you actually will be.” Jaya said.

I looked at Jaya, and sat back with my hands on my head.

“What’s going on, Jaya? What brought this on?”

Jaya shifted uncomfortably and winced a little.

“Well…..” she said and paused “I have been getting some obvious and blatant passes made at me recently. And in the interest of honesty, I must say I am a little intrigued.”

That seemed like a benign thing. Jaya, like I said, was incredibly attractive. Guys made passes at her all the time. Heck, some of my colleagues often flirted with her blatantly, often right in front of me.

“Guys make passes at you all the time.” I said. “What has intrigued you this time?”

“Okay, you might freak out and end this open marriage thing altogether, but…..” Jaya said, “I am talking about the construction guys.”

“Construction guys? You mean the ones working on the house next door?” Our neighbor had sold his old house, and the person who bought it had knocked it down and was building a new one. A construction crew had been working on the site for a few months now.

“Yes.”

“What passes are they making?”

“Well, when I am outside, they will start singing suggestive songs. Whistle occasionally.”

“That’s it?”

“That was until today.”

“What happened today?”

“Nothing major. Two of them came over to the house to make a phone call. And they were blatantly checking me out, whispering to each other, and again making suggestive comments.”

“Okay.”

“And what intrigued me was the proximity to them. Their dirty sweaty bodies. Their swarthy looks. The aggression in their body language. It all…well…sort of excited me.”

“Really?”

“I know this might creep you out. But if we are to…..experiment, I am personally more attracted to the idea of experimenting with some of these lower class blue collar guys, than middle class folks like us.”

I stared at Jaya with my mouth open.

“That freaks you out, doesn’t it?” Jaya asked, raising her voice a little bit.

“No, not really.” I said, shaking my head. “To be honest, of all the erotic stories I read online, the ones that I like the most are the ones with educated women with lower class guys. I just never mentioned it to you because I thought you might find the idea disgusting.”

“It is disgusting. Which is what excites me so much. Does that make sense?” Jaya said, cocking her eyebrows.

“Yes, perfectly.” I said. “So these two guys who came over. Tell me about them.”

“One of them was an absolute Greek god. Tall, well-built, ruggedly handsome face. He is young, probably 20 or so. He is the one I was attracted to. The other guy is forgettable. Short, about my height, average built, and old. The old guy was the more blatant one though.”

“Hmmm… so what are you thinking of doing next?”

“Well, I am not sure. I am not experienced in these matters.”

“So do you think…..” she started saying when we both heard Arun call out for her.

We both rushed to his room. He had had a bad dream. He was shivering and crying. We consoled him, and eventually had to let him sleep in our bed that night. Which meant no further discussion was possible.

The next morning too, Arun was awake and getting ready for school, as I was getting ready for work. So we couldn’t talk about it. I left for work, and had a busy day. When I came back in the evening, Jaya was helping Arun with his homework. Then we had dinner. Watched TV. Finally at 10 pm, Arun went to bed, and we got some time alone.

I was in bed already. Jaya brushed her teeth and joined me in bed. She snuggled up next to me, and put her head on my chest.

“So, should we pick up our conversation where we left it off yesterday?” I asked.

She didn’t say anything.

“Well?”

“Actually, something happened today.” she said.

“Huh?”

“Nothing major, Mohit. Just that the two guys from yesterday came over to make a phone call again.”

“Ah.” I said.

“And this time, they asked if they could wait for a return call. Something about when to expect the new batch of material or something. I paused and considered their question. One of them, the young dishy one, sensed my discomfort and said they could leave, and I could just have them over when the phone call came.”

“And what did you say?”

“I told them it was fine if they waited. They both sat on the floor. And I just stood around wondering what I should do. The older one asked me if they could have some water. And I, out of habit, asked them if they would like some tea as well. They said yes.”

“So you made them tea. What else?”

“Let me tell you in sequence.” Jaya said, slapping me gently on my cheek. “So I went to the kitchen and started making tea. A few seconds later, the old guy walked into the kitchen. He was the one who always checked me out blatantly. As I made tea, he just stared at me. I started feeling uncomfortable. I wished the young guy had been there instead. But this old man was here, just staring at me. So I asked him what his name was. Sajid, he answered. Then he said the other one was his nephew, named Rasul.”

“What then?” I asked.

“Don’t interrupt. Let me tell you things one at a time.” Jaya said.

(Jaya narrates->)

“What is your name?” Sajid asked me.

“Jaya.” I said.

“How old are you, Jaya?” Sajid asked, referring to me just by my name. No Jaya madam or Jaya memsahib or anything, like someone like him would usually say.

“32.” I answered.

“32? Hmmm…. that old and only one child?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Surprising.”

“Why surprising?”

“My first wife, by the time she was 32, already had six kids. And she is not even half as pretty as you.”

“What does prettiness have to do with it?” I asked, genuinely confused, blushing a little at his compliment.

“I couldn’t control myself.” he said, winked and started laughing. “Looks like your husband has a lot of self-control.”

I didn’t say anything. I was a bit shocked at how quickly he was making sexual innuendos.

“If I was married to you, you would have a dozen kids by now.” he said, and laughed some more.

I stayed silent again. The tea was almost ready. I reached for the sugar box on the shelf.

“Let me help you.” he said, and lunged forward.

It’s not like the shelf was too high or anything. And he’s not too tall anyway. But it was obvious what his intention was. He pressed his body close to mine, and his arm was touching mine as we both reached for the sugar box. My hand was already gripping it. He pressed his hand onto mine. And just stayed like that.

I was surprised at his sudden move. His body was almost hugging mine, and I could feel his crotch against my ass. He stayed like that, and so did I for a few seconds. I think he was testing my limits. He was checking to see if I would push him off. And I wanted to. But…..but the touch of a strange male body felt so different. And there was that workman odor he had – of sweat and dirt and grime. I was almost intoxicated.

Soon I came to my senses, and shook him off. He immediately stepped back. I looked at him with anger in my eyes. He just smiled.

“How old are you?” I asked in an upset voice.

“55.” he said.

“You are old enough to be my father.” I said.

“Does that turn you on?” he asked and winked.

I was about to say something nasty in response, when the phone rang.

“That’s our call.” he said and rushed out of the kitchen.

I was obviously shaken. A little bit intrigued at his aggression, but also a bit scared. I was almost shivering. A couple of minutes later, I composed myself, poured the tea in cups, and walked out with the tray.

Sajid had by then finished the phone call and was sitting on the floor whispering something to his nephew Rasul. As soon as I walked in, Sajid stopped whispering. Rasul looked at me and suppressed a snicker.

I was still a bit upset. I put the tray on the table and sat on the couch. They both took a cup each and started drinking.

“Outstanding. This is the best tea I have ever had.” Sajid said in a loud voice. “What is your secret, Jaya?”

“It’s just tea.” I said.

“No secret ingredient?” he asked.

“It’s just tea.” I said again.

“Then it is your delicious touch that makes it so good.” Sajid said, and Rasul started giggling.

We sat in silence as they drank the tea. Both of them stealing glances at me and occasionally giggling. I reached for a magazine and started reading. Finally, they finished their tea, and started to leave.

“Thanks for the tea.” Sajid said, walking out the door.

(Jaya’s narration ends)

I had been listening to Jaya with a mixture of jealousy and excitement. The idea of a 55-year old construction worker feeling up my wife in our own kitchen seemed so wrong, yet so exciting. the episode had been relatively benign, but I had a major hard-on.

“Well, what do you….” Jaya started asking, but was interrupted my kiss. I jumped on top of her and started stripping her naked.

She reached for my pants. And we had the best, most passionate sex in ages. Twenty minutes later, we were both naked in each others arms.

“I am so relieved.” Jaya said breathlessly.

“Relieved?”

“Yes, I wasn’t sure how you would react. I thought you might get upset. But your reaction shows me that you were at least partly right about your own attitude towards this.”

“So what next?” I asked.

“Only time will tell.” she said and we kissed again.

I got up and opened the window. I could see the house next door. And I saw a small bonfire in front of it. A dozen or so workers were gathered around it, smoking and playing cards. I wondered what the future held for them, and for us.

The excitement of that was followed by a lull. The men did not come over for the next few days, and Jaya started wondering if they read her haughty reaction to mean their advances were unwelcome. And they were scared she might call the cops or something. For four days, every time I asked Jaya if something had happened, her reaction was in the negative.

The fifth day when I came home, I could sense something had happened, based on two things. First, her attire. Jaya, like any Indian housewife, usually wore a sari or salwar kameez at home. But that day when I came home, she was wearing a knee-length skirt and a blouse. Second, she had a very sly smile on her face when she spoke to me. Obviously, she could not say anything in front of our son. But I was sure that things had moved forward today.

“So I’m guessing you have a report to make.” I said, when she walked into the bedroom later that night, and bolted the door shut.

“Yes.” she said, jumping on the bed and hugging me.

“Alright, start your report.”

“Well, I was growing impatient of waiting for something to happen. So after Arun’s school bus left, I dug into the closet and took these clothes out. I put them on, made tea, and with the cup, walked out to the front yard. I sat on a chair there and started drinking the tea. I could see the workers stealing glances at me. But I could not see Sajid or Rasul anywhere. For a while at least. Then Sajid’s head popped over the fence.”

Jaya continued,

“He asked me if I was having tea and I said yes. He asked if he and Rasul could come over for some when he had a lunch break. I nonchalantly said okay, but in my mind I was happy at the prospect of having Rasul around again. I just wished this old fart wouldn’t tag along. He said they’d come by at noon. For the next few hours, I was agog with excitement. And some fear. Had I been a little too forward? Would things go out of control? I could not wait for noon.”

(Jaya narrates)

Then at noon, the doorbell rang. I opened it to see Sajid and Rasul standing there, with wide smiles on their faces. I asked them to come in, and walked to the kitchen. Sajid followed me. Rasul, much to my annoyance, stayed in the living room.

“We wanted to come by before, but we weren’t sure it would be a good idea.” Sajid said, standing right next to me.

“It’s okay.” is all I could say.

Sajid stared at me as I put the water on the stove and stood there waiting for it to boil. I looked into his eyes, and I could see some uncertainty. There was an awkward silence.

“So how is Rasul related to you?” I asked to fill in the void.

“He is my 3rd wife’s elder brother’s son.”

“Third wife? You got divorced twice?” I asked.

“No.” he said laughing. “I am married to them all. The law in India allows us Muslims to have four wives, remember?”

“Oh yes.” I said, feeling sheepish. “So….three wives, huh?”

“Yeah. The first one is my age. The second is in her 40s. The third is in her late 30s.”

“Do they all live together?” I asked.

“No. The first two live in our village with the kids. The third is here. She works on the construction site too.”

“Okay. So you have quite a large family, with three wives.”

“I am allowed a 4th one if you’re interested.” Sajid said, winked and then, out of the blue, spanked me on my ass.

I looked at him in shock. The smile left his face, and he stared at me, as if waiting for something to happen. I just scowled at him and started putting tea leaves in the water. My heart was going faster than a jet engine. The small talk had lulled me into a sense of comfort, and his sudden assault on my ass was surprising. But it felt naughtily good. I would have ideally preferred that the handsome Rasul was the one making advances. But even coming from this old ugly man, that touch tickled something in me.

A couple of minutes went by, and it was time to put the sugar in. I reached for it, half expecting what happened next. Much like the other day, he lunged forward. But this time, he reached it before me. His body touching mine, he took the the sugar box. Then he wrapped his arms around me, closing me in an embrace. Once again, I was intoxicated by his masculine aroma. And the feel of his unfamiliar body against mine. His mouth was next to my right ear and I could feel his warm breath on my cheek.

I stood there, in his embrace, drinking in the unfamiliarly erotic feeling of being in this swarthy man’s bear hug. He then opened the sugar box, and said in my ear,

“Add the sugar.”

I took the box from his hand, and as I started pouring the sugar in, I felt his hands move to my breasts. He fondled them gently over the blouse for a few seconds. I added the sugar and just stood there, as he continued to massage my boobs, and started squeezing them hard. I started moaning, and rested my body against his, when I felt something poke against my butt. His erection. That was too much for me. And I shook his embrace off.