Indian Wife Becomes a Mistress

My name is Priya Sharma. I am a 32-year-old homemaker living in Delhi, India, with my husband, Rajesh Sharma. Rajesh and I have known each other since our school days, as we grew up in the same area. Our friendship blossomed into love during college, and we tied the knot after completing our studies. We have two children—a six-year-old son and a baby daughter, who is just four months old. Life was peaceful and fulfilling until a recent incident turned our world upside down.

Our neighbors were an elderly couple, Mr. Arvind Mehta and his wife, Sunita Mehta. Arvind was 58, and Sunita was 42. They had no children. Sadly, tragedy struck when Sunita passed away in a car accident. Arvind was devastated. He became a shadow of his former self, drowning his sorrows in alcohol. Over time, his drinking worsened, and he lost his job. He spent his days alone in his apartment, consumed by grief and addiction. My husband, Rajesh, is a kind-hearted man who couldn’t bear to see Arvind in such a state.

One evening, Rajesh said to me, “Priya, we need to help Arvindji. He has no one to turn to. I think his loneliness is driving him to drink. Why don’t we invite him to stay with us for a while? It might help him recover. Do you think you can manage the extra work?”

I agreed without hesitation. “Rajesh, that’s a wonderful idea. Sunita was a dear friend, and it’s our duty to look after her husband. I’ll handle the additional responsibilities. Let’s bring him home.”

We convinced Arvind to move in with us, and he reluctantly agreed. We gave him the guest room, and I took care of his meals, laundry, and other needs. Rajesh left for work early in the morning and returned late at night, so Arvind and I often spent time together during the day. He would sit in the living room, watching TV, and I would chat with him whenever I could. Over the next two months, his drinking reduced significantly, and he seemed to be on the path to recovery. We decided to let him stay longer.

In our household, I would bathe first, then get our son ready for school. Rajesh would bathe afterward, and Arvind would go last. We kept a laundry basket in the bathroom for used clothes, which I would wash later in the day. One morning, while sorting the laundry, I noticed something unusual—sticky stains on my undergarments. Upon closer inspection, I realized they were semen stains. I was puzzled. Rajesh and I hadn’t been intimate the previous night, so I assumed he must have used my clothes to satisfy himself. I didn’t mind; after all, he was my husband.

That evening, I decided to address the matter playfully. After dinner, I dressed in a sheer nightgown and approached Rajesh. “Since when did you start acting like a teenager?” I teased.

He looked confused. “What are you talking about, Priya?”

I laughed. “If you wanted me last night, you could have woken me up. Why did you resort to… you know, in the bathroom?”

Rajesh was taken aback. “Priya, I didn’t do anything like that. Why would I waste my energy when I have you?”

His response surprised me. Rajesh and I have always been honest with each other. If he had done something, he would have admitted it. So, where did the stains come from? Suddenly, it hit me. I felt a wave of discomfort.

I looked at Rajesh and said, “I found stains on my undergarments this morning. They weren’t there when I undressed for my bath. Someone must have… used them.”

Rajesh’s expression changed. He thought for a moment and then said, “Priya, I think it was Arvindji. He’s been alone for so long. He must have… fantasized about you.”

I was shocked. “What should we do?”

Rajesh sighed. “Let’s not confront him. He hasn’t harmed us. We’ll pretend we don’t know.”

I agreed reluctantly, but the incident left me unsettled. That night, Rajesh was unusually passionate, as if the thought of Arvind’s actions had aroused him. The next morning, he insisted on being intimate again before I could start my day. I was surprised by his behavior.

Later that day, I went to wake Arvind for breakfast. His door was closed, so I knocked lightly. When there was no response, I peeked inside. What I saw left me stunned. Arvind was lying naked on the bed, pleasuring himself. His size was… overwhelming. I quickly closed the door and retreated, my heart racing. The image of his body stayed with me, and I found myself feeling strangely aroused.

When Rajesh returned that evening, I told him what I had seen. He seemed intrigued rather than upset. “Priya, it’s natural for you to feel curious. His size is impressive, isn’t it?”

I blushed. “Rajesh, please don’t talk like that. I’m your wife.”

He smiled. “I’m not offended. In fact, I want you to experience him.”

I was shocked. “What are you saying?”

Rajesh’s expression turned serious. “Priya, I want you to go to him tonight. Let him satisfy you.”

I refused vehemently. “No, Rajesh! This is wrong. I can’t do this.”

But Rajesh was persistent. “Priya, you promised to do as I say. Don’t break my heart.”

Torn between my loyalty to Rajesh and my own curiosity, I stood trembling outside Arvind’s door. Rajesh knocked, and when Arvind opened it, he was surprised to see me standing there, wrapped only in a towel.

Rajesh spoke first. “Arvindji, we know you’ve been lonely. Tonight, I want to give you something precious—my wife.”

Arvind was speechless. I felt a mix of fear and excitement as Rajesh led me into the room. The night that followed would change everything.