The Dutiful Little Housewife – Part 1 (Pics inside!) [MF]

*This is Part 1 of a two-part erotic collaboration between [F] u/LittleNaty (author) and [M] u/Mrquick83 (developmental editor). It is a revised and expanded edition of the u/LittleNaty story found [here.](https://www.reddit.com/r/sexstories/comments/h8cqou/he_thought_i_am_drunk/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) Part 2 will be published tomorrow! Enjoy!*

Hello there! My name is [Natalie,](https://imgur.com/a/yCqeCiw) but that’s what my husband John calls me. I want you to call me Naty.

I thought John would be all I ever needed when I married him two years ago; shortly after my 25th birthday. He was so open about how he loved my lean body and slender physique. The way he hugged my slim waist and openly admired my 32B-sized breasts made me feel like I didn’t have to look like a plumped-up porn star to be lusted after and desired.

I can’t describe how important that is to me. I’m extremely shy, so nobody realizes the truth about me that I’ve always concealed.

The truth is I’m actually a dirty little slut.

Sometimes I’ll be speaking to a guy and I just can’t help wonder what it would be like if I could take him to a secluded Kolkata alleyway and just let him use me like a nasty whore. It’s a secret that makes me blush.

As the countdown to my wedding day with John approached I could barely contain my excitement. I assumed that once I was married I would be able to reveal my true self to him. He’d be my husband, so who could ever accuse me of being a slut if we spent the whole day in bed together? I could fuck him until my loins were sore anytime I wanted once we were married.

But after the wedding I realized quickly that John would never accept who I was. I won’t say he was bad in bed. He was dutiful, efficient, and he had a nice body. For a short time I was just grateful to have someone. Anyone. Anyone to wrap my legs around. Anyone who would at least try to satisfy my lust.

John wasn’t *bad*, but he wasn’t *enough*.

He lacked adventurousness. He was so preoccupied with me being a decent little housewife that I knew I could never reveal my true nature to him. The repression created an evil feeling within me. It made me even more of a little slut who craved cock. It wasn’t enough to have a man who called me “darling” while he made love to me; I needed someone who would call me “slut” while he *fucked* me.

And that’s what happened one night at a party John brought me to.

Of course, I played the dutiful housewife for him after we arrived at the house and he introduced me to his friends. He had chosen my outfit before we left: A traditional red saree / petticoat combo with a green sleeveless blouse. Even though the outfit showed my slender midriff it wasn’t scandalous to John because it was still very traditional Indian garb. Of course he never would have approved of the snug crop-top I wore beneath my blouse, or the sexy g-string I wore underneath my petticoat.

I was transfixed by one of the guests the moment I entered the house and our eyes met. He was young. Maybe 21 or so. He was the kind of cool, good-looking guy who ignored me all throughout my teenage years. Stylish like a Bollywood action star; wearing a tight t-shirt that emphasized the contours of his lean torso. They liked the loud attention-seeking girls and had no time for shy ones like me. We were introduced but my mind was so preoccupied with his handsome face that I couldn’t hear his name.

His skin was light brown like the hills seen at dusk and his chin was hairless like a boy’s. His eyes, though…. His eyes were dark and wanton. They gripped me and for once they didn’t just slide away looking for a set of bigger tits than mine. Oh god.

I couldn’t hear anything once he touched me. I embraced him politely, but he shifted his grasp slightly and I felt his fingertips squeeze the taut flesh of my exposed waist. It was too discreet for anyone to notice visually but I knew in that instant he desired my body.

Through my peripheral vision I could see that his gaze followed me throughout the night. Again and again he seemed to appear next to me. He would make it look like he was just reaching past me to grab a fresh napkin or glass from the liquor table but it was just a pretense for him to grope me again.

He did it repeatedly. John was a few feet away drinking himself into obliviousness as was his custom whenever there was an open bar. Still I worried that he might see what was happening. I discreetly deflected the stranger’s hand with mine whenever his fingers rested on my skin for more than an instant. I can’t deny it, though. This handsome, brazen boy’s touch was making my whole body hot.

My shyness made it hard enough to attend a party like this at all. If I told this boy to give me some space would it cut though the din of the nearby conversations and draw everyone’s eyes onto me? Could I even trust my voice to speak without it revealing how aroused I was? I couldn’t risk it. I felt my pussy getting wetter. Fuck. I knew I’d have to give myself a quick orgasm in order to compose myself. Fortunately I also knew there was one washroom that was on the other side of the house, away from the party. When I excused myself for the washroom John thought nothing amiss.

Once I was in the washroom I began to hike up my sari petticoat. I had to get some relief from this lust immediately. The sari was tight and uncooperative but finally with some effort I got it hiked up to the middle of my thighs. Just as my determined hand reached under the hem of my garment I heard the sudden “click” of the lock behind me.

This young man’s boldness knew absolutely no bounds. He had followed me into the washroom without me hearing him and locked himself in with me. He glared at me with unconcealed lust. I surrendered to his touch and my usual shyness simply melted away like salt in the rain. He kissed me firmly and took my breasts in his hands; stroking my sensitive nipples over the soft fabric of my saree.

After a few minutes of him fondling me and stoking my desire to fever pitch I forced myself to break away and reminded him that my husband was here with me and we couldn’t continue to risk this. He told me that he didn’t care.

“I must enjoy your body or die” he said. I was too on fire to resist him when he use his strong hands to turn me around. He pulled up my petticoat further up and bent me forward over the sink, exposing my round ass and hot, yearning pussy. I heard the sound of a zipper.

“I know just what kind of girl you are, Naty, and it isn’t the shy little housewife you’re pretending to be. I think you’re a little slut who wants to get fucked hard in that sweet little pussy I’m looking at, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I whispered “Quickly, please, just fuck me now!”

He stepped forward and I felt the heat of his cock against my inner thigh. He groped my upturned ass and squeezed my pliant flesh like he was comparing mangos in the marketplace. Then just as his fingers began to stroke my cunt over my sopping wet g-string, I heard my mobile go off.

“Shit!”

I bolted upright and fumbled for my phone. As John rambled incoherently into my ear I straightened my garments and escaped the washroom.

I tried to regain my senses as I hastened back. When I found John at the liquor table he was barely able to stand, let alone drive. He was at least sensible enough to agree that he couldn’t get behind the wheel of a car tonight, but that put us in a difficult position.

I heard a reassuring voice from behind me speaking with the host of the party.
“Why don’t we put him in one of the spare bedrooms for tonight? I can help him and his wife get settled in with some new linens. I’ll stay with him for a while in case he gets sick and needs a bit of help.”

Minutes later my stranger was helping me to undress John and put him to bed. As my husband began to snore I felt the hands of this young stranger leading me to the sofa on the other side of the room.

“Now where were we?” He asked, drawing me down to the cushions.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/h9mmj6/the_dutiful_little_housewife_part_1_pics_inside_mf