Well readers this was going on & my wife was getting fucked by Ansari every day & one day my wife called me & told me that Ansari has gone down to the...lobby to meet some people & she was alone in the hotel & started telling me the things which took me by surprise.She told me that when Ansari used to fuck her he used to tell her that although he is married, his wife was chosen by Ansari’s parents & they wanted him to marry her cos she was the daughter of Ansari’s father’s friend & he is not. “I also write short stories for an internet blog,” I added as I sat up my computer.“What type of short stories?” she pressed.“Fictional stuff, mostly,” I replied.“So, do you offer tutoring services?” she asked, as her computer booted up.“No,” I replied, “my day job keeps me pretty busy.”She peppered me with rapid questions as I sat up my computer.“Are you married?”“Yes,” I replied.“Happily married?”“Mostly,” I replied.“Do you go to strip clubs?”“I try not to,” I dutifully replied.“Have you ever. With the window again closed, I noticed that I was feeling intimidated and breathing faster.As the engine restarted a violent gust of wind shook the Citroën. I tried to tune in a radio station to keep me company, anything would do, but all I found was endless static and ghostly whispers.Having fresh eyes lifted my spirits. Alert again sensing every bump and dip in the road, I listened to the tyres doing battle with the gritty slippery road surface. Still, no other headlights or signs of life. And after a shower, with wet hair, she always looked especially fresh and desirable. People that we had just met would often comment that they had met her before, or knew someone who looked just like her.My wife had retained much of her girlish figure. She was fortunate to have hips and thighs that didn't easily gain weight. Her midriff had the normal female curves, pronounced by childbirth, and her breasts, always the magnet to my eyes and hands, looked perfect. Her breasts were 38C's, and.