"Oh, how wicked. Underwear it shall be, sir," then she kissed me once more and went back downstairs. I stayed on my bed for a little while to think. This was taking on a momentum of its own, which I had not at all expected. But I had to make a fast decision. How was I going to live up to my words? I certainly hoped she did not expect me to turn up as a Master, you know the kind you read about, with a whip in his hand. I decided on a more verbal version of this 'taking advantage', and I quickly changed into my formal black suit, white shirt and tie, and I had just finished changing when she called from downstairs: "Dinner is ready."In the dining-corner the curtains were drawn, and she had bloody well done it! Shiny, black stockings, a lacy set of red suspenders and wispy bra, plus the tiniest and most see-through panties I had ever seen her wear. On her feet she wore a pair of black pumps with a semi high heel. I have to admit that she has kept her figure very well. Compared to a lot. I am a vivid reader of Indian Sex Stories. Since I come from an orthodox family, I never had a girlfriend in my life. Forget the girlfriend, I never spoke to a girl in my life until I reached the college. Till then, I was put in a boy’s school. My parents did not even let me talk to the girls living in our neighborhood. My father worked as a priest in a temple and would always make me watch devotional movies. Even when I wanted to spend my holidays, he would take me to some pilgrimage places.So, when I look at my classmates, I would feel jealous. I too wanted to visit theme parks, carnivals, movies etc. But he never let me do anything. In short, he wanted me to become a sage. I use to wonder why did he even marry a woman and have a son like me if he wanted to be so devotional. But I never had the guts to talk about this in front of him. Like a typical Indian father, he would ask me to change the channel if there was a kissing scene on the TV. That actually increased my curiosity to.
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