My dad was the one who taught me that whatever I do, I should do with two rules: passion towards the goal and gratitude towards the people who contribute. So my thanks for this story go to lejla and AbstraktConcept, two random people who did not know me but were kind enough to help me with nothing in return. They inspired me to continue writing.
If you haven't read the previous episode of this story, this one won't make complete sense.
My father's thoughts are conjecture (but based on my wife's observations); the rest of it is all true.
*****
To say that my wife, Mousami, is pretty, would be a gross understatement. And it's not just her face, which is flawless. She has a clean, straight neck, breasts which are sized just right to fit my palm without bulging, and a waist that drives me crazy with the insane curves. She is 23 and she has violently child-bearing hips. Unlike the normal Indian woman, her body is naturally devoid of hair (except her pubes which I love trimming) and if you were to see her across the street, you would stop in your tracks. She could have won the beauty contest in college without even showing up, if she had cared to participate. She has had offers to model too, and she again declined.
I thought she was just lazy until the day she told me her horrid truth. Her father was an alcoholic and sex addict, and he regularly brought other women into their home. As a child, Mousami had repeatedly witnessed her mother going to a hospital due to beatings, and had shivered in fear when her father looked at her. She hated being thought as a sex object, hence the rejection of 'fame'. Years later, when she met me, I was able to convert her revulsion of sex into what is the right meaning - pleasure. All she needed was a loving hand, one that she had never felt. Come to think of it, that is all any woman wants really. Or so I thought.
Let's get on with the story then.
"I know only one woman who likes him even in this state."
"WHO!"
"You"
"Kya? (what?)"
"You like him even now, in this bad state."
"Of course. So?"
I had decided long ago in my life that I would never lie to the people I loved. But at this point, I felt I could postpone the truth a little. I was at my diplomatic best.
"So I think you should date him sweetu."
"Are you mad?"
"No. Just date him please. He would enjoy the company of a sexy woman."
"James. What are you saying????"
"You go and see him right now, then you question me. I cannot bear to see him this way again."
"I have also seen him. I understand baby. But he is your dad! How can I date him?"
"Not just date my love. You may have to fuck him too."
"You are sick. Go to sleep."
She turned on her back and pretended to sleep. Her shoulders were raised, so I knew she was awake and angry. I slowly slid into the bed and carefully touched her hip, whispering.
"Sweetu, give him your body. He will still feel pain, but your amazing body would soothe it."
She swung her leg and kicked me hard. That was exactly what I'd expected, but I was also hurt. I got out of bed, wrote a very emotional letter ending with "leave me alone please", and left the house. I went to a nice hotel far from home, and for the next two days ignored all her calls. I don't have to tell you that I jerked off multiple times watching dad and daughter-in-law porn. I returned home in the evening on the third day, trembling with guilt.
I found her in the living room, chatting with someone on Facebook. I went up to her and said, "How are you my love?"
She pushed aside the laptop and jumped up to hug me very tightly.
