Husband Sharing His Housewife - Indian

” giggle, “you don’t...” chortle, “understand...” snort, “women.”I dare say I looked ... miffed is the best word I can come up with. She sniggered a little more, then grabbed my head in both hands and dragged it down so she could kiss me.Well, at that point we were in the High Street and there were other people about. So not only were we engaged in a very obvious public display of affection, but we were blocking the pavement. Someone cleared their throat, loudly, right behind me and I jerked up, breaking the lip-lock. When I looked round, there was a very large lady, dressed in a severe, dark blue two-piece suit. It would have been intimidating had she not been wearing a slight smile. We moved aside. “Perhaps we should go and eat that lunch you promised,” I suggested.“Perhaps we should.” Her fingers twined with mine again and we set off once more.At her house I followed her through into the kitchen. “Rice, pasta or potatoes?”Such a mundane question after the morning we’d had was. I was probably the only fifteen-year-old in town with his own apartment, but I felt like a king. I worked hard. I paid my bills. I kept the place clean. I even had my mom over for supper a couple times. My dad wouldn't come though. He called me an ungrateful bastard and rarely spoke to me again."Ron led me into a formalwear store and waved the sales clerk away who swept down upon us like a vulture the moment we set foot on the carpet."I learned a lot of important lessons in those years," he said. He held a few jackets up against me, moving from rack to rack as he talked. "I learned the value of money. I learned the importance of hard work and dedication. I learned the hard way that people will try to rip you off every chance they get, especially when you're a kid."A young lady walked up and asked me for my autograph. Nothing new. I smiled and signed her shirt with a black marker. Then she went away again. Ron didn't even look up from the clothes rack he was flipping through."I.
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