After the blindfold night, Priya changed quickly. The shy Indian wife who used to blush and hide her face was slowly turning into a greedy little hotwife. She still got nervous, but now her nervousness came with soaked panties and eager eyes. Raj was loving every second of planning her training, and he kept texting me new ideas.

A few days later, Raj called me with a wicked plan.

“Listen, bro… Priya’s parents are away, so we have the house to ourselves this weekend. I told her you’re just a friend from the bar who’s new in Auckland and coming over for a casual drink and dinner. She’s nervous but agreed. She’ll be wearing one of her traditional salwar kameez – you know, the full Indian outfit she usually wears when family visits. I want you to treat her like a proper guest at first… then we slowly turn her into your slut while she’s still dressed in that respectable Indian dress. Think you can handle that?”

I laughed. “I’ll be on my best behavior… until I’m not.”

Saturday evening I showed up at their apartment in central Auckland, acting the part of the friendly newcomer. I brought a bottle of wine and some Indian sweets. Priya opened the door wearing a beautiful deep red salwar kameez – the long tunic hugged her full breasts and curvy waist, the dupatta draped modestly over her chest, and the loose pants hid her thick thighs. Her long black hair was tied in a neat braid, and she had light makeup with a small bindi on her forehead. She looked like the perfect traditional Indian wife.

“Hi… welcome,” she said softly, eyes down, cheeks already pink. She was still super shy in “normal” mode.

Raj greeted me like an old mate and we sat in the living room. Priya served us snacks and tea, moving gracefully in her Indian dress. Every time she bent over to place something on the table, the fabric stretched across her ass and tits. I kept the conversation light – talking about Auckland, cricket, work – while Raj slowly steered it toward more flirty territory.

After dinner, Raj poured stronger drinks. Priya was loosening up a little, giggling at my jokes, but still playing the modest wife. Raj suddenly said, “Priya, why don’t you sit closer to our guest? He’s new here, make him feel comfortable.”

She hesitated but moved next to me on the couch. I could smell her perfume mixed with the faint scent of her arousal already starting.

Raj gave me a nod. I placed my hand on her knee over the salwar fabric. Priya froze but didn’t pull away. “You look very beautiful in this traditional dress, Priya,” I said casually. “Very respectable Indian wife.”

She blushed hard. “Thank you…”

My hand slowly slid higher, rubbing her thigh through the thin material. Raj watched with a smile. “It’s okay, baby. He’s our friend. Let him touch.”

I pulled her dupatta off her shoulders, exposing the deep neckline of the kameez. Her breasts were heaving. I leaned in and kissed her neck while my hand went under the tunic, finding the waistband of her salwar pants. Priya gasped but her legs parted slightly.

Raj whispered, “Remember the blindfold night? You loved being used like a slut. Tonight you’re going to be a proper Indian wife on the outside… but a total slut underneath.”

I tugged her salwar pants down just enough to expose her hairy pussy while she was still fully dressed in the red kameez on top. No panties underneath – Raj had told her not to wear any. She was dripping.

I fingered her slowly at first, then faster, right there on the couch in their living room. Priya moaned into my shoulder, clutching my arm, her traditional Indian dress still covering most of her body.

“Stand up, Priya,” I ordered gently.

She stood on shaky legs. I bent her over the dining table, flipping the long tunic up over her back so it bunched around her waist. Her ass was fully exposed while the red salwar kameez top still looked so proper and modest from the front and sides. I rubbed my thick bull cock against her wet slit.

“Tell your husband what you want,” I said.

Priya’s voice was trembling with shame and lust: “Raj… your friend is going to fuck me… while I’m in my Indian dress…”

Raj stroked his cock from the chair. “Yes, baby. Let him use you like a slut wife right here in our house.”

I pushed in deep in one thrust. Priya cried out, gripping the table as I started pounding her from behind. The sound of my hips slapping against her ass filled the room while her red salwar kameez swayed with every thrust. I reached around and squeezed her tits through the fabric, pinching her hard nipples.

“Fuck… your cock is so big… I’m such a bad Indian wife…” she moaned, her shyness cracking again.

I fucked her harder, using her married pussy like my personal toy while she was still half-dressed in her traditional outfit. Raj came over and made her suck him while I railed her. Priya was drooling, eyes half-closed in pleasure, getting spit-roasted in her own dining room wearing the same respectable Indian dress she wore for family visits.

I pulled out and made her kneel. Still in the salwar kameez, dupatta now on the floor, she looked up at me with those big brown eyes and opened her mouth like a good slut. I painted her face and tongue with thick ropes of cum while Raj jerked off onto her tits, soaking the red fabric of her kameez.

When we finished, Priya was panting, cum dripping down her chin onto her traditional dress. She looked thoroughly used and strangely proud.

Raj kissed her cum-covered lips. “Good girl. Our friend just fucked you like a whore in your Indian dress. How does it feel knowing you’re becoming a proper hotwife?”

Priya smiled shyly but with a new spark in her eyes. “It feels… dirty… and amazing. I want more.”

From that night on, “friend visits” became a regular thing. Sometimes she’d greet me at the door in a fresh salwar kameez, already wet and ready to be turned into a slut in her own home while pretending to be the innocent Indian wife.