“Yes,” she said. “I’m married.”
The man looked at me.
“Sir, I hope you’re not offended,” he said.
“Why should I be offended? You’re making my wife happy. Isn’t that so?”
Akshara nodded and took hold of the man’s other cheek with her free hand. She made him look up at her.
“Thank you so much for this,” she said. “Can I thank you some more?”
The man, by now excited about what was to come his way, nodded. Akshara let go of his face and raised her hands to the straps over her shoulders.
“I’d like to show you my boobs,” she said. “Is that okay?”
“Of course, Madam,” the man squeaked. “I’d be honored.”
Akshara kept her eyes on him as she slid the two straps down her slender arms. She held the chemise at her chest for a moment before lowering it. Her breasts came into view.
They are magnificent, my wife’s breasts. They aren’t the biggest but they fit right into a grown man’s hands. The curve of them, the large areolas, the nipples that were by then fully erect, and the mangalsutra right between them, a sign showing just how erotic and forbidden this whole thing was.
“Do you like them?” she asked the man.
The delivery man was lost for words. Akshara moved half a step closer to him.
“Would you like to touch them?”
The man, with some difficulty, looked up at her, as if even after everything, he couldn’t believe this was happening. Akshara took his hands and slowly, carefully, she brought them to rest on her breasts. She sighed again and so did the man this time.
“That feels so nice,” she said.
The man squeezed her breasts, his fingers finding purchase on her flesh. She let go of his hands and he didn’t stop. He didn’t look at me anymore either, intent on kneading my wife’s breasts. After a while, his fingers took hold of her nipples and he tugged on them gently.
“Oooh,” Akshara said. “You’re so good at this.”
She placed her hand on the back of his balding head and brought his face up to her cleavage. He didn’t need another invitation. He began to kiss her chest again, lower and lower until he was kissing right between her breasts, around the black beads of her mangalsutra. His hands stopped fondling her breasts for a moment as he encircled her bare back and brought her into his embrace.
After a minute of this, the man came up for air. His face was sweaty and flushed.
“You haven’t kissed my tits yet,” Akshara said. “You don’t want to?”
The man swallowed once and then looked at her breasts again, right there before his eyes.
“I can do that?”
Akshara kissed his left temple, his cheek, and then right at the edge of his lips.
“You’re so sweet,” she said. “Of course, you can kiss my tits.”
She straightened up. The delivery man leaned forward, opened his mouth, and closed it over Akshara’s left breast. She moaned and though she had asked him to kiss her breasts, he began to suck on it. Akshara wrapped her hand behind his head and pulled him in even closer.
I was there through this all, my hand lightly touching my erection through my shorts. My eyes connected with my wife’s and we looked at each other as the man continued to suck on her breast, making low, rasping sounds as he did so. After a few minutes, he let go of the left breast and started going at the other one. Akshara touched the nipple he had relinquished and smiled at me. We could both see that it was dripping with the man’s saliva.