My wife and I went on a trip to India and experienced traditional massage (Part 1)

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My wife and I like to relax with massages during our holidays. My wife, Xiaoqian, is quite pretty; she's 26 with long legs and a D-cup. This holiday, we went on a trip to India. I was a little scared when we decided to go, after all, it's known as the rape capital. As soon as we arrived in the Indian capital, it was so hot that my wife changed into a white tank top that showed her midriff and denim shorts, revealing half of her buttocks. I thought to myself, "Is she trying to provoke a crime?" I brought a jacket. At the traditional market, it wasn't as bad as the rumors suggested; the area was relatively safe. However, the men kept glancing at my wife, as they rarely saw such fair skin and a curvaceous figure. I put the jacket on her, but she said she was too hot to need a jacket. I said the men here are practically nosebleeding. My wife playfully replied, "It's okay, let them suffer a bit. They can't do anything to me since they can't have their way with me anyway." It was difficult to get a taxi here
, so we checked online to find out where we needed to go next and took a bus. We quickly boarded the bus, which was packed with people and had no seats, so we had to stand. Our stop was 25 minutes away. I tried my best to protect my wife with my body. My penis kept rubbing against my wife's buttocks, and she felt it. She grabbed my penis and stroked it a few times, telling me to stop and give it to her when we got back to the hotel. I obediently stopped moving and checked the route on the phone. A large crowd pushed on, and my wife and I were separated, with several Indian men between us. I thought it was okay, we'd be there in ten more minutes, and I'd tell my wife to get off later.
Ten minutes later, we arrived at our stop. My wife got angry and said, "Why didn't you tell me the person behind you wasn't me?" She had been bumped in the buttocks on the bus, and she had grabbed that penis thinking it was mine and started stroking it. The man had even put his hand inside her tank top and touched her breasts. My wife's hand wasn't idle either; she kept stroking him until he ejaculated. Suddenly, I heard my husband calling me from afar, and I was startled to realize that the person I was stroking wasn't him.

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My wife and I went on a trip to India and experienced traditional massage (Part 1)

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