Young Wife from India

During the IT boom of the late eighties and early nineties, most mid-to-large companies in the US out-sourced their IT work to India based technology firms. As a Senior Account Manager for one such firm, I was responsible for identifying, selling and staffing projects at the American companies.

A project in early spring one year brought me to a quiet, modestly populated midwestern city. I had identified a smart guy in my parent company in India to execute the project and was waiting for him to join me. I had known him from my visits to our HQ. He was young, fresh out of college, nerdy, smart and hardworking. I was glad to have him and hoped he would be the first of many I would need to build a good team.

When all the documentation and formalities were completed, I was surprised to learn that he was going to have his newly married wife and mother-in-law in tow!

He was as green as they come. I had seen and worked with a lot of guys in the same position and had brought them up to speed in different parts of the US, wherever my projects took me, and Prakash was no different. This was his first visit to the US. I took him under my wings and showed him the ropes. For instance, he had not driven a car in his life so it fell upon me to drive him around initially. He had a long way to go in terms of his taste in work clothes and I helped him fix his wardrobe. As expected, he hit the ground running as far as work was concerned and I had no concerns from this quarter.
Fortunately, my wife took on the responsibility of taking care of his wife (her name was Aruna) and mother-in-law (I was not sure of her name!), and they all hit it off. It helped that all of us were from the same southern State in India and spoke the same local language. The mother was a few years younger than my wife, and the Aruna would have been the same age as our son (now in college in India).

Aruna was just twenty years old (I had seen this from the documents), and I had a little less than thirty years on her. She and her mother quickly adjusted well to life in the US but still maintained certain aspects of their Indian life and upbringing. Within a few weeks, our families grew close, as was expected, and we exchanged visits often, and frequently went out together. I had lots of opportunities to take Aruna in.

She was like a breath of fresh air. She was not particularly voluptuous or sexy. She was just this normal looking Indian girl from a small town in the South. She reminded me so much of the young girls back home. Watching her took me back to the days of my youth, high-school and college when my friends and I spent hours ogling girls and young women like Aruna in public. And masturbated thinking and fantasizing about them in the privacy of our homes. It was all that we could do in the constricting and conservative society we grew up in.

I looked forward to seeing and talking to Aruna. I caught myself staring at her on many occasions. She was well built and looked fit and toned. Her clothes clung to her body and accentuated her curves. Her breasts were big (not huge) and her waist was narrow compared to her hips. When she wore a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, I found it very difficult to tear my eyes away from the way her ass cheeks stretched the fabric. My imagination ran wild whenever she wore the traditional Indian salwar-kameez or the sari.

The plumpness of her tits and her exposed cleavage drove me crazy. When we were close, I could smell the oil on her hair, the general natural aroma emanating from her body was so different from the fake perfume laden bodies of most of the women and girls I encountered. Her complexion was smooth and radiant without the need for makeup. She skin was flawless and was the color of light copper.

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