After she was done, Vidya had taken a shower, and then tried to decide on what to wear. I had rolled back the camera to see her pausing and trying on various outfits in front of the wardrobe. Again, it sounds funny, given that in probably an hour’s time she would be on her knees, naked, getting spanked, slapped or fucked, but for the moment, Ramu the low class labourer was expecting a high class fashionable buxom respectable young housewife, and that is what he was going to get. A proper Indian lady.
I forwarded the clip and saw that Vidya had chosen a black satin bra and thin thong panties. For some reason, black lingerie drove Ramu crazy. I guess it was the contrast of the black against my wife’s fair skin. Then she decided to wear blue for the remaining. My wife put on a dark blue petticoat, and a dark blue designer blouse, and completed the ensemble with her designer light blue chiffon sari. Vidya tied it in such a way that her waist was exposed, along with my wife’s beautiful navel. The pallu went over her shoulder, leaving her blouse, encasing her big breasts, visible. My wife unbuttoned the top button of the blouse, so her cleavage was just peeking out.
After applying some make up, Vidya put on her mangalsutra, the necklace every married Indian woman wears, and then applied her vermillion — once again the sign of a married woman. Ramu wanted to fuck a housewife, he was going to get a housewife to fuck.
I now went to the live video.
Ramu was inside the house.
He was as I remembered him. Ramu had always been very dark. It seemed he had actually become darker since I last saw him. He was tall, and still well built. He seemed to have put on just a little weight, but not much. He had been working all his life with his hands, and his ripping muscles showed in the old shirt that he was wearing which clung to his chest. His ebony skin contrasted sharply with that light coloured shirt. This time I saw he was wearing a pair of blue jeans rather than a dhoti or a lungi.
Ramu’s eyes became wide open as he looked at my wife.
“Saali! Kutti!” He had a grin from ear to ear. “WOW! You look amazing Vidya!”
“Why, thank you, my dear Ramu!”
He rushed and embraced my wife in a bear hug, leaving Vidya grasping for breath. This was the hug of a strong man who had strength of muscle. His arms roamed all over my wife, pinching my poor Vidya’s buttocks and cupping her breasts. I could see that Vidya too hugged him back. Ramu pressed his lips against hers and kissed Vidya deeply. Even as there was a stirring in my loins, I felt jealous watching them kiss like that.
“Mm …” Ramu bit my wife’s lips and probed his tongue deep into her mouth. His hands smacked her ass repeatedly. “Kutti. You are still a slut.”
“Thank you, Ramu.” Vidya came up for air once the kiss was over. My wife, a respectable housewife, was just thanking this low class labourer for calling her a slut and a bitch. “I missed you. I will always be your slut, Ramu. I will always be your bitch.”
She was true to her word. Ramu wasted no more time and then proceed to roughly fuck my slutty wife Vidya right there in our living room. Meeting again after such a long time, they couldn’t wait to even go to the bedroom.