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How to Dominate My Indian Wife


My name is Trevor Stevens. I'm a white man from Florida, 46, 6'3, well-built, short brown hair. I recently got married to an Indian woman named Priya. How we met and what happened in between are all very, very interesting tales.

I was invited by one of my employees, Rajesh, He and his family had moved from India just a year back. He's a pretty unremarkable man, a guy that can rub you the wrong way with his crooked look. I don't judge people by looks, so I wanted to get to know him. Though I quickly found out what kind of man he was, when he told me details of his family during the drive.

"Excuse my son, he's a bit stupid. My wife is more fat these days, I don't hope you mind eating with her."

Asshole was my first reaction, yet I bit my tongue. We got to the house, I got out the car and we walked to the house.

"If you don't like the food, I can always make her cook anything you want."

"No need," I said with a gritted smile.

I walked in and was amazed at the quality of his home. Two story house, excellent d├ęcor, plush carpeting, amazing entertainment set-up, looked like a home made for a king, yet it was occupied by a clown.

I saw his wife walk up to her husband. Immediately I was blown away by her. She was 5'8, taller than her husband, looked to be in her mid-thirties, had long black hair, a curvaceous build, tasty mocha brown skin, a beautiful face, juicy lips, large breasts and a juicy ass. The exact type of body we in the west have learned to covet, the J.Lo, Beyonce type-body we want our women to have, something to hold on to, a beautiful woman made for sexual pleasure. She was wearing a form-fitting shiny blue Indian dress.

I wanted to put him to his knees and make him eat his words: how dare he label her, such a sexy women, as "fat." I knew right away that he was probably too small to handle a real woman like her.

I approached her, put my hand out, she shook it with her delicate brown hands, I leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. She was surprised by my candour.

"Hello, my name is Trevor."

"I'm Priya," she said in her Indian accent.

She looked at me with a coy expression.

I knew where I wanted her at the end of that night, I knew right away then what was going to happen: at the end of the night she and I would be in the nearest bedroom, having sex. Sounds insane, but I just knew I was taking her that night, and he was not going to do a thing about it.

He shouted at her rudely in his language. My resolve grew stronger. Knowing her husband was a total jerk made me even more motivated. The thought of me, a white man, with his beautiful Indian wife in his own bed was something that made me more excited than words can express. The interracial taboo of her culture forthright in my mind, knowing this would break so many of her cultural taboos, it made me hard in an instant.

"Your wife is very beautiful."

"Please, no need to be so polite, Sir," he said with a sly smile, as if I were joking with him.

I chose to ignore his existence for the rest of the night. I walked towards the kitchen. I saw her son in the lounge, I gave him a polite wave, he responded back.

I approached Priya in the kitchen, standing right beside her as she stirred the oven.

"Looks good."

"Oh thank you, I been working on it all day."

"I wasn't talking about the food," I said with a cheeky grin. Nothing better to break the ice than some cheesy interplay.

She giggled shyly, "Oh funny."

"I wasn't joking," I said seriously, "You're gorgeous."

"Please," she said while blushing.

Not wanting to come across too strong right away, I asked a basic question.

"So where you from Priya."

"Mumbai, originally."

"Ah, so when did you marry Rajesh?"

"When I was very young..."

"I see..."

"We met through family, it was all arranged," she said glumly.

"So how you like America, how long you been here?"

"Over a year, we like it a lot. The culture is very different but we adjust."

"Ah yes, more free willing here, I bet?"

"Yes, women dress so much differently."

"Yes that is true...I think that American-style would suit you, Priya."

She blushed again. "Oh please, I don't have the figure."

"Oh you do! You're a real sexy woman, Priya. In the west we really admire a woman with a solid, curvy figure like yourself."

She blushed some more. "Really? My friends say that here, but my husband don't agree."

I moved a step closer. "Excuse me if this is too harsh: your husband is wrong."

"Oh?" I piqued her interest.

"I work with him; I know what kinda man he is. I'm very surprised he has a wife such as yourself, you're far too good for him."

She continued to stir her pot, lowering her voice. "Please you mustn't say that."

I made my move. I put myself right infront of her, swiped aside her shiny scarf, then put my hand on her bare hip.

"I know I'd be proud to have you as my woman."

I knew what she was thinking when she saw that bulge: is this white man bigger than my husband? I can't speak for all white men or Indian men, but in this case: yes, I was -- significantly. I had 9 reasons why she needed to be with me that night, right there in my pants. I made it noticeable: I had my tight pants on. My hard-on was rubbing against her ever-so-gently.

"I, I --"

"Don't answer. Just think...I'll go help your son with the table." I grabbed the near-by plates and left. Leaving her with those thoughts, I knew what the result would be.

I saw her son fixing up the table. I helped him set the plates.

"Hey I'm Trevor, your dad's boss."

"Hello, Sir," he replied polity, also speaking in an accent. He was around 5'6, slim build, light brown skin, black hair.

"So, you like it here in America?"

"Yes Sir. Everything's great, all great, expect for..." he grumbled, then looked over at his dad who was sitting on the couch.

"Too strict?" I asked.

"Yeah, and stupid."

"I'm surprised your mother married someone like him."

"Lots of people say that, all my friends comment on how pretty my mom is. They think she's so good-looking"

"Guess he's the lucky one, huh?"

"Him?" he had a confused expression on his face, "I don't think he has the size for a woman like my mother."

"You should show him more respect though," I said trying to sound politically correct, though fully agreeing with him.

"To him? I'll show respect to a man like you, but never him. He believes in teaching with the belt and shoe, he has no intelligence. He treats me and mom like dirt, he believes following tradition is more important than being a happy family. He's a pathetic father."

I was impressed by her son's attitude. He understood what was going on around him and showed proper respect to me. I was also surprised with how open he was. Knowing he hated his father made it better for me: I knew humbling his father would give her son some satisfaction too.

"Sorry Sir," he said while looking down. "I spoke out of line."

I patted him on the shoulder, "No problem. What's your name?"

"Ravinder."

I smiled at him. I looked at the table and saw there was a chair at the head of the table. That really pissed me off. From where I'm from, all the chairs were lined up together, there was no one lone chair signifying a leader. To show that man a lesson, I pulled up the chair and sat at the head of the table.

"Umm, that's my dad's seat."

"Well I'm the guest and his boss. Don't worry, Son. He won't say a word to me."

He grinned. "Cool, very cool."

"Dinner's ready," shouted Priya.

She walked into the dining area, surprised at where I sat myself. She nodded to me and smiled.

Her husband walked by, not saying a word, and sat to the left of me, his wife to the right, and her son next to her.

She laid out the food, we began to eat. Rajesh tried starting up a conversation.

"So, ahem, Mr. Stevens --"

"This food is delicious, Priya," I deliberately ignored him and set my sights on his wife.

"Oh, thank you."

I put my hand on her leg, giving it a nice, gentle squeeze. I was staking my territory.

She cleared her throat. "So, ahem, Trevor, please tell us about yourself."

"Well I'm forty-six now, actually looking to settle down, yes I'm unmarried. I head an I.T department at work, pretty tough job, I always go home to my little apartment so tired. Oh did I tell you I'm sleeping over?"

Her husband looked shocked; he was going to say something before I but-in.

"Yes, he kindly gave me that offer." I looked at him and gave a slight glare, "That right?"

He looked down and mumbled, "Yes."

Priya nudged closer. "That's wonderful. Please, keep talking about yourself."

"Umm, well, I grew up here. Four brothers, all married. I'm not a fanatic but I like to go to the gym, stay fit."

"Oh I can see that," she said with a giggle.

Well I'm doing well for myself, then."

The family kept eating. I nudged closer to Priya and whispered to her.

"You know, your husband will never ever dare say a word against me. He even try, well, I promise you got me protecting you and your son."

"Thank you," she said gratefully.

After finishing our meal, I stood up and made my boldest move yet.

"I'm so tired, I better get to bed." I put my hand out to Priya, "You coming?"

She looked at me, stunned. Her son had his mouth wide open; he knew the game I was playing and what move I made. Her husband just sat there silent.

"I'm taking the master bedroom since I'm above your husband in status. I feel so wrong about going to bed without having you, the able-bodied woman of the house, as sexy as you are, not in the bed with me. You going to bed with him while I sleep under the same roof? As a man, I can't let that happen, I won't allow that to happen. You need a real man, I need a woman for the night, come on, it feels right."

She looked deep into my eyes, "Umm, umm, yes! Yes I-I agree. Can I go to the bathroom first to get ready?"

I pulled her in closer, my hard-on ripping through my pants.
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