It was a sweltering July afternoon in their Bellevue home. The AC had died again, and Meena – a plump, soft, 52-year-old traditional Tamil woman with her second chin, thick, wobbling arms, and that massive shelf of an ass that made every chair creak – had called the repair company in desperation.
She answered the door in her usual faded purple cotton housecoat, her hair in a loose bun, no makeup, and sweat making the fabric cling to her heavy, hanging tits and belly rolls.
The technician who showed up was everything Rajan secretly worshipped in his darkest browser tabs.
Tyler; 27 years old, 6’4″, with a blond crew cut, sun-tanned skin, and arms thick from manual labor. He wore a tight company polo that showed off his broad chest.
White. American. Aryan perfection.
He grinned at Meena with easy confidence, his eyes dropping shamelessly to the deep valley of her brown cleavage. “Hot one today, huh, ma’am?” he said, his voice low and teasing.
Meena giggled – actually giggled – and let him in.
Rajan was supposed to be at Microsoft until 6 PM, but a cancelled meeting sent him home early. He pulled into the house quietly, hearing noises from the living room – wet noises, moaning, a deep American voice growling filthy things. He crept to the doorway and froze.
Meena was bent over the arm of the couch, her housecoat hiked up over her enormous brown ass, panties around one ankle. Tyler stood behind her, his pants around his thighs, slamming an absolute monster of a white cock – thick, pale, veiny, at least 8.5 inches – into Rajan’s wife with long, brutal strokes.
Her fat ass rippled like waves with every thrust; her second chin trembling as she moaned in Tamil, “Aryan, harder Sir, please Sir…”
Tyler had one big white hand buried in her hair, yanking her head back. “That’s right, aunty. Take that superior white cock. Your little curry husband can’t fuck you like this, can he?”
“No Sir… never Sir… only white cock Sir… oh God, Sir…”
Rajan should have been furious. Instead, his tiny 4-inch Dravidian cocklette was throbbing painfully in his slacks, leaking pre-cum as he watched his traditional wife get colonized right in their own living room. He stepped into view, his voice cracking. “Please… Sir… don’t stop Sir…”
Tyler looked over, not even slowing his thrusts, smirking as he sized up the short, dark, soft-bellied Tamil man in the doorway. “Well, well. The cuck husband. Come to watch a real man breed your fat wife?”
Meena’s eyes widened in shock, then something else – wicked delight – as she saw Rajan drop to his knees without being told.
“Yes Sir… thank you Sir… this inferior Tamil dog came home early Sir… please Sir, keep fucking my wife Sir… my black Dravidian cock is too small Sir… too weak Sir… only white men like you Sir can satisfy Tamil women Sir… please Sir, show me Sir…”
Tyler laughed, pounding harder, making Meena squeal. “Get over here, curry boy. On your knees right behind me. Watch how a real cock owns brown pussy.”
Rajan crawled forward, his face inches from the action – watching that thick white shaft glisten with his wife’s creamy juices, stretching her married cunt obscenely wide, her fat lips clinging to it with every withdrawal.
“Thank you Sir… thank you Sir for fucking my plump wife Sir… look how wet she is for white cock Sir… my cock never did that Sir…Please, Sir, make her scream Sir… Tamil wives need white breeding Sir…”
Tyler reached back and grabbed Rajan’s hair, forcing his face even closer. “Smell that, uncle? That’s what a properly fucked pussy smells like. Your wife’s been begging me to come fix things for weeks. Knew what she really needed.”
Meena moaned louder, pushing back. “He’s right, Rajan… you’re right, Sir… Rajan, your cock is nothing… this is real cock, Sir… white cock owns me now Sir…”
Twenty minutes of savage thrusting later, Tyler growled and buried himself balls-deep, pumping thick ropes of superior white seed into Meena’s womb. She came with a guttural wail, her whole body shaking, her second chin quivering as she collapsed forward.
Tyler pulled out with a wet pop, his long cock slimy and shining – coated in thick white cum and Meena’s pussy juices, strings of it dripping from the fat pink head. He turned to Rajan, still on his knees.
“Clean it, cuck.”
Rajan lunged forward like a starving man. “Yes, Sir… thank you, Sir… please, Sir… let this worthless Dravidian dog clean your superior white cock, Sir…”
He took the slimy shaft in both trembling hands, his tongue lapping reverently from heavy white balls all the way up the long, veiny length, sucking the mixed fluids off every inch. The taste – salty, musky, thick white superiority mixed with his wife’s familiar scent – made him moan like a bitch.
“Thank you, Sir… your cum is so thick, Sir… so much better than my watery Dravidian seed, Sir… thank you for breeding my fat wife, Sir… I am licking her pussy off your cock, Sir… she tastes like a white-owned slut now, Sir…”
Tyler stroked Rajan’s head while he worked, his cock twitching back to life in the Tamil mouth.
“Good little curry cleaner. This is weekly now. Every time your AC needs fixing – or your wife does – I am coming over. You’ll answer the door on your knees calling me Sir, watch me destroy her on whatever furniture I want, then clean my cock like the beta you are.”
Rajan pulled off just long enough to gasp: “Yes, Sir…Thank you, Sir… please, Sir… this is all I ever wanted, Sir… white men own Tamil wives, Sir… I am just the cleanup cuck, Sir…”
Meena watched from the couch, her legs still spread, cum leaking out of her wrecked pussy, smiling lazily as her husband worshipped the cock that had just claimed her forever.
“Welcome to the new normal, Rajan,” she said softly. “Sir, do you want tea, Sir?”
Tyler grinned. “After round two, aunty. Your husband can watch from his knees again.”
“Yes, Sir,” they both answered.