Adultery The Unwilling cuckold : How My Roommate Stole My Shy Wife

[Betacucky]

This work of fiction contains explicit content and adult themes intended for mature readers only. Reader discretion is advised. The characters, situations and scenarios depicted in this story are purely fiction. 


If you like the story...please reach out to me at [email protected]m

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Let me first introduce you to the characters of the story.  

Ketan: A conflicted man from Gujarat, insecure and dissatisfied in his marriage.
Ananya: Ketan's wife, traditional and struggling with new life challenges.
Anand: A dominant and provocative old college buddy of Ketan, often crossing boundaries.
Manavi: Anand’s wife, subtly facilitating her husband’s bold actions.





[img][/img]
Ketan 

[img][/img]
Ananya




Anand



[img][/img]
Manavi

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Hi there, my name’s Ketan and I hail from Gujarat. I'm hitting 30 this year, and I’ve just recently married my girlfriend of a couple of years, Ananya, who’s 29 and from a traditional Bengali family. She’s got this killer figure, you know? Stands about five-four, wears glasses, and yeah, she’s got curves that’ll make you do a double take. But let me tell you, her best feature has to be her perfectly shaped ass—gives her lovely 34B's a run for their money!

Now, about my college buddy Anand. We used to work at the same MNC, but while I was in Gujarat, he was over in Bangalore. He's this tough dark Mallu guy, not too tall, but looks like he can hold his own. Total flirt back in college—girls always hanging around him, and let me not even start on the noises from his room when we shared an apartment during our final year! He got hitched last year to Manavi, who’s a Gujarati, sports this slim, athletic look, legs for days, and a backside that’s just out of this world especially in leggings.

So, the company offered me a better deal to work from Bangalore. Since Anand and Manavi had a spare bedroom, Ananya and I decided to crash with them while looking for our own place after the honeymoon.

Now, about our sex life. Ananya was a virgin when we met, and well,I am a bit on the skinny side and I'm not exactly packing much below the belt, only about 4.5 inches. It’s not just the size but also the girth that’s lacking. And smoking a lot doesn't help with the erections, making them hit or miss. We barely got busy on our honeymoon, which sucks because Ananya didn’t have much experience before, and she's too traditional to complain, but man, sometimes the silence screams. Does she ever lie there, thinking what it's like with someone who could really give her what she needs? It eats at me, this nagging thought that I'm just not cutting it for her.

Living with Anand and Manavi was a shock for Ananya. Anand would always bring up sex, his comments growing more provocative and explicit, clearly enjoying the discomfort it brought Ananya. Manavi just laughed it off, telling her not to mind Anand’s humor. But behind his lewd jokes, there was a calculated edge, a way of asserting dominance that he had perfected over the years. This wasn't new; back in college, he used his charm and bravado to mask his insecurities, always needing to be the alpha in any room.

With Ananya off to her parents' for a couple of weeks and Manavi drowning in work deadlines, our place turned super quiet, like a library without the books. Everything felt off, just the sound of us tapping away at our keyboards and not much else. 

A few days into this silence, and you could tell we were all starting to climb the walls. That's when Anand clapped his hand on my shoulder and said, 'You need a break, Ketan. Let's get out and clear our heads, have a bit of fun.' I was all for it, totally unaware that this night out was about to shake everything up. So, there we were, just Anand and me, acting like bachelors for the night. We hit up this wild pub in the center of Bangalore, known for its loud crowd and knockout drinks. It felt like the perfect spot to forget the quiet and just let loose for a bit..

The place was packed, the air buzzing with overlapping conversations and the occasional clink of glasses. Anand led the way to the bar with the confidence of someone who knew the place well, sliding effortlessly into a seat like he owned it. "You’ve got to try this," he said, handing me a glass filled with an amber liquid that looked as strong as it smelled. The first sip burned, but it warmed me in a way that made the crowded room feel a little less oppressive.

As the night wore on and the drinks flowed, the edges of my usual restraint began to blur. Anand, ever the charmer, kept the mood light with jokes and stories, but there was always that subtle undercurrent with him—a sense that he was watching, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

At some point, we found ourselves side by side at the urinals. Through the haze of alcohol, I caught a brief glimpse of something thick and dark peeking from the edge of his jeans. I quickly looked away, the image sticking in my mind more than I wanted it to. A twinge of something sharp and bitter flared in my chest—envy, maybe, or just the crushing weight of inadequacy rearing its head again.

Several drinks later, my tongue, loosened by the alcohol, betrayed me. "Man, I just... I don’t know. It’s like I’m not... enough, you know?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them, heavy with the frustration I’d been carrying.

Anand turned toward me, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as a smirk played on his lips. "Not enough?" he repeated, his tone teasing but his gaze sharp. "What’s really eating at you, Ketan?"

I hesitated, but the alcohol pushed me over the edge. "I don’t think I have what it takes to fully satisfy Ananya," I admitted, the words coming out softer than I intended, as if saying them too loudly would make them even more real.

For a moment, there was silence between us, broken only by the hum of the bar. Anand’s smirk widened, and then he laughed—a loud, almost theatrical sound that turned a few heads around us. His hand slapped the bar with a thud, and he leaned back, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Seriously? That’s what’s been eating at you?" he said between laughs. "Oh, man, this is too good. Who would’ve thought?"

His reaction stung more than I expected. The laughter wasn’t just amusement; it carried an edge, a cruel note that made the humiliation twist even deeper. I felt my face flush as I realized I’d just handed him a piece of me—a vulnerability he wouldn’t hesitate to use.

Anand leaned in closer, his voice dropping just enough that only I could hear. "You know, Ketan," he said, his tone turning from mocking to something darker, "women need more than just... effort. Sometimes it’s about confidence. Command. You? You’ve always been a little too... passive."

The words hit like a slap, the weight of them sinking in as the alcohol amplified every emotion. I wanted to defend myself, to fire back, but nothing came. Instead, I just stared at the drink in my hand, the ice cubes melting slowly, like my pride dissolving under his gaze

"Enough, Anand. Let's not talk about it anymore," I muttered, my voice low but firm, the words carrying more hurt than anger. My cheeks burned. Beneath the table, my fists clenched tightly, nails digging into my palms. A part of me wanted to stand up, to walk away and escape the humiliation, but another part—the quieter, more defeated part—urged me to stay seated, to endure. That inner conflict, that surrender to my own weakness, was a bitter reminder of the man I’d become, far from the man I once aspired to be.

The rest of the night was a haze. The booze flowed, loosening tongues and blurring boundaries. Conversations turned louder, laughter more raucous, and the world around me spiraled into a dizzying blend of flashing lights and muffled voices. I vaguely remembered stumbling out of the pub, the cold night air slapping me awake for a brief, disorienting moment. But the ground still felt unsteady beneath my feet, and everything around me was a blur as we somehow made it back to Anand’s place. I collapsed onto the bed in the guest room, the silence of the night pressing down like a heavy blanket.

Waking up the next morning was a harsh reality check. My head throbbed with a relentless, pounding ache, each pulse a painful reminder of the night’s excesses. I groaned, clutching my temples as fragments of my drunken confessions from the previous night resurfaced, each one more regrettable than the last.

Then, cutting through the fog of my hangover, came the sound.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The rhythmic, unmistakable sound of a headboard banging against the wall. It was loud, deliberate, and impossible to ignore. My heart sank as realization dawned. The noises came from Anand’s bedroom, each thump a jarring reminder of everything I wished I could forget.

I thought I heard the name Ananya being uttered but it could have been a figment of my imagination. 

I groaned again, dragging the pillow over my head in a futile attempt to block out the world—and the sounds. But they only grew sharper, more distinct, piercing through the fabric like a cruel taunt. My stomach twisted, and the humiliation from the night before came rushing back in full force.

I wasn’t ready to face the world. And I definitely wasn’t ready to face Anand.

---

[Blackdick11]

Off to a solid start! Congrats on your first story!

[Chandan]

superb start 

[ronylol]

great start

[Betacucky]

As things began to feel somewhat normal with Ananya back, Anand brought up their anniversary during breakfast one morning. “Hey, let’s grab something cool for Manavi. It’ll be fun,” he said, all enthusiasm, his grin wide as if the whole idea had just struck him.

I wasn’t exactly thrilled, but I figured it was the weekend, and maybe I could find something for Ananya too. Who knows? It might help spice things up a bit between us.

We ended up at Victoria’s Secret. I wandered through the store, slightly uncomfortable yet determined, before finally picking out a couple of babydoll lingerie pieces for her—one in sheer white and the other in bold black, both with those crotch-snapping closures. They were a far cry from her usual cozy cotton PJs, but I thought, why not try something different? Maybe it’d reignite something we hadn’t felt in a while.

When I got home and handed Ananya the bag, her reaction was... underwhelming. She glanced at the lingerie, gave me a small, almost polite smile, and mumbled a “Thanks.” That was it. No excitement, no curiosity—just a response that felt more like an obligation than genuine appreciation. I couldn’t hide my disappointment but chose not to press her.

As I sat in the living room later that evening, a sound from the master bedroom caught my attention. At first, it was faint—an occasional giggle, muffled voices—but then it became unmistakable. Manavi’s laughter, mixed with soft gasps and the low rumble of Anand’s voice, drifted through the walls. It was clear they were already making good use of the gifts Anand had bought for her. The realization sent a strange mix of emotions through me—envy, embarrassment, and an odd sort of curiosity I didn’t want to acknowledge.

Ananya must have heard it too because she glanced toward their bedroom door, her expression unreadable. After a beat of silence, she turned back to me, holding up the white lingerie I’d given her. “Men are disgusting,” she declared with mock indignation, breaking the tension. I watched, half amused and half hopeful, as she disappeared into the bedroom. Moments later, she reappeared, wearing the sheer white babydoll.

My breath hitched. She looked... incredible. The delicate fabric clung to her in all the right places, and the light softness of the material contrasted beautifully with her confident yet slightly bashful demeanor. “Enjoy it,” she said, her tone teasing, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “But just so you know, these are only for special occasions.”
Despite her earlier reluctance, seeing her like this made it worth every awkward moment in the store. The sight of her standing there, framed by the soft glow of the bedroom light, was something else entirely. For a brief moment, everything felt right again—simple, intimate, and ours.

As the evening wore on, the idea of heading out lost its charm, and we collectively decided on a quiet night in. Anand, ever the charismatic instigator, suggested a game of truth or dare to spice things up. Drinks flowed freely, with Manavi taking on the role of bartender. Her pours were generous, especially when it came to my glass, and soon the edges of the evening began to blur.

The game started innocently enough—playful dares, harmless confessions, and laughter filling the room. It was all lighthearted banter until Anand, his eyes glinting with mischief, dared Manavi to confess the wildest place she’d ever made love. She leaned back in her chair, her cheeks flushed from the cocktails, and began recounting a risqué encounter in a public park. Her vivid details painted a scandalous picture, and even Ananya, typically reserved, blushed and giggled behind her hand.

Anand didn’t miss the moment. “Don’t be shy, Ananya,” he teased, his grin broadening. “Everyone’s got a naughty side. What’s yours?” Ananya shook her head, laughing nervously as she sipped her drink. But the warmth in her cheeks and the way her eyes sparkled told me the alcohol was doing its job—loosening her usual guardedness.
As the night progressed, the dares grew bolder, the questions more pointed, and the room took on a charged atmosphere. I could feel the alcohol working its way through me, the room spinning slightly more with every turn. The once-clear laughter and chatter now blurred into a cacophony of sound.

Deciding I’d had enough, I mumbled something about needing to lie down and staggered off toward the guest room. Behind me, their laughter followed like a teasing echo, spilling into the hallway as I retreated.

Sleep came quickly, the quiet of the room a stark contrast to the lively energy I’d left behind. But it wasn’t restful. My dreams were haunted by snatches of muffled conversation that filtered through the haze of my mind—phrases like “naughtiest fantasies” and “ever dared to swap,” mixing with bursts of laughter. It felt surreal, like my subconscious was amplifying my growing unease.

An hour or so later, I woke to a quieter house. The vibrant laughter had faded to hushed whispers, the kind that carried weight and intimacy. My curiosity got the better of me, or perhaps it was the unease gnawing at my chest. Either way, I crept out of bed and down the dimly lit hallway, my footsteps cautious and deliberate.

The closer I got, the more I felt the charged air. It was different now—intimate and heavy. Peering around the corner into the living room, I froze. The remains of the night’s festivities were scattered around—a forgotten bottle, empty glasses, and crumpled napkins. Amid the clutter, Anand and Ananya sat alone on the couch.
Ananya was curled up, a blanket dbangd loosely over her shoulders, her face turned slightly away. Anand sat close—too close—his body angled toward her, his voice low and coaxing. His posture was relaxed, but there was an intensity in his gaze that made my stomach twist.

Where was Manavi? The thought sent a jolt of unease through me, but I couldn’t bring myself to move, to interrupt whatever this was. Instead, I stayed hidden in the shadows of the hallway, my breath shallow as I strained to hear.

I slipped out of the guest room and tiptoed down the hall as quietly as I could, my heart hammering in my chest. The dim light spilling from the living room cast long shadows on the walls, adding to the unease twisting in my gut. As I crept closer, their hushed voices grew clearer, though still muffled.

Suddenly, Ananya’s voice cut through the quiet, sharp and tinged with confusion. "What do you think you’re doing?" she demanded, her tone a mix of disbelief and alarm, though restrained—like she didn’t want to wake me or Manavi.

I froze, holding my breath as I peered around the corner. Ananya was sitting upright on the couch, her posture tense and guarded. She clutched the blanket tighter around her shoulders, her wide eyes darting toward Anand, who was seated far too close for comfort.

It was as if she were a deer caught in the headlights—her body stiff, her gaze flickering between shock and calculation as she tried to process his intentions. Her lips parted slightly, as though searching for the right words, but no more came.

Anand, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease, leaning back against the couch with a casual confidence that only made the moment more unsettling. His grin was faint but present, a shadow of something that felt both predatory and smug. The air between them was heavy, charged with an unspoken tension that made my skin crawl.

Anand didn’t pause or hesitate. With a firm grip on Ananya’s wrist, he guided her past the kitchen toward the den at the back of the house—his personal entertainment zone. Designed for late-night football games and loud parties, it was far enough from the bedrooms to keep whatever happened there out of earshot.

The deliberate choice of location wasn’t lost on me, and the realization sent a chill through my chest. This wasn’t impulsive; Anand had planned this. The thought made my fists clench at my sides, but my legs wouldn’t move. I lingered near the hallway corner, caught between anger and the weight of my own fear, as faint noises filtered out from the den, teasing the confrontation I couldn’t bring myself to face.


Without warning, Anand guided Ananya into the den and swiftly pushed her down onto the couch. Her voice, soft and trembling, carried a mix of confusion and alarm. "Anand, what are you doing?" she asked, her words barely audible over the pounding of my own heart. She attempted to push herself upright, but Anand’s imposing figure loomed over her, making any attempt to resist seem futile.

The dim light cast long shadows across the den, the hum of distant traffic outside the only sound breaking the charged silence. Every creak of the couch beneath her seemed deafening, every shallow breath amplified as though the walls themselves were closing in.

I crept quietly through the dimly lit kitchen, positioning myself near the bar area where I could observe unnoticed. From my vantage point, I saw Ananya push against Anand’s advances, her voice trembling with barely restrained panic. "Anand, what are you doing?" she stammered, her words hurried and uneven. "Ketan is waiting for me in the bedroom." She attempted to stand, her movements urgent but unsure. Anand, however, was quicker, his larger frame closing the gap as he gently but firmly pressed her back onto the couch, his overpowering presence leaving little room for resistance.

"I just wanted to show you something," Anand said, his grin wide and disarming, though his tone carried an unsettling undercurrent. His casual demeanor was a sharp contrast to the tension in the room, making his intentions feel even more ominous.

"Can’t it wait until tomorrow?" Ananya protested, her voice firmer now but still tinged with unease. Her eyes darted toward the kitchen, the brief flicker of hope betraying her thought of escape. "Ketan is waiting for me in bed," she added, her tone pleading, as though invoking my name might anchor the situation to reason.

"Ketan’s out cold," Anand said with a low chuckle, his tone dripping with smug confidence. "Trust me, he’s not waking up anytime soon. That lightweight can’t handle his drinks." His casual dismissal of me as irrelevant stung, as though I were just an afterthought in this twisted scenario.

Ananya's face was a storm of emotions—fear, confusion, and something else that I couldn’t quite place. Her silence stretched on, heavy with unspoken thoughts. For a moment, it seemed like she might bolt, her eyes darting toward the hallway as if measuring her chances. But then, her shoulders stiffened, a quiet resolve settling over her. This wasn’t just fear—this was a woman grappling with the weight of her choices, torn between loyalty, upbringing, and the pressure Anand so brazenly applied.

For Anand, this wasn’t just an impulsive move—it was a calculated display of his belief that he could bend anyone to his will. Boundaries weren’t barriers to him; they were tests of his dominance. It was this audacious confidence, this refusal to acknowledge limits, that made him both captivating and deeply unsettling

Anand brushed off my existence with such ease, as if I were nothing more than an irrelevant bystander rather than her husband. The casual dismissal stung, driving home the depth of his intentions. Ananya’s face turned pale, her expression shifting as the weight of his words began to sink in. Her wide eyes filled with panic, darting around the room, searching for an escape that wasn’t there.

"Anand, I really need to get back to Ketan," Ananya said, her voice steadier than before, carrying a thread of defiance that hadn’t been there earlier.

Her gaze flicked around the room, desperate for an exit or even an ally, her internal battle playing out in her shifting posture. She was torn between the values of her upbringing, which urged her to keep the peace, and the primal instinct to defend her dignity. "Let’s just pretend this didn’t happen," she continued, her voice faltering to a whisper, thick with anxiety and the fear of shattering the fragile threads holding her marriage together.


Anand’s grin remained fixed, unshaken by her resistance, as he leaned back on the couch with an air of unsettling ease. "You’re free to go," he said, his voice calm, almost too casual. "But first… a little show and tell." His smile lingered, but there was no warmth in it—only the faintest trace of something darker. The veneer of politeness only heightened the underlying menace, his seemingly harmless words loaded with an unmistakable edge of coercion..

"You’ll have to unwrap it yourself," Anand teased, leaning in closer, his voice low and taunting.
Ananya stiffened, her discomfort evident. "Unwrap what?" she asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Anand’s smirk widened as he glanced downward, gesturing subtly to the growing bulge straining against his boxers.

"This," he said simply, the single word heavy with implication, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

Ananya gasped sharply, the sound cutting through the thick tension in the room. Her eyes widened, fixed on the obvious bulge in Anand’s shorts. The realization of his intentions hit her like a jolt, and she clasped a hand over her mouth, her shock palpable.

"Anand, stop this. Please think about what you’re doing," she pleaded, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and inner turmoil. "Ketan would be devastated," she added, her words faltering as if even saying my name might somehow summon me to intervene. "I’m his wife!" Her voice broke slightly on the word 'wife,' emphasizing the weight it carried—the commitment, the love, the boundaries that now felt dangerously fragile.

Her eyes flickered away for a moment, a flash of genuine distress breaking through her composure. This wasn’t just fear—it was something deeper. The weight of her marital vows pressed heavily against the reality unfolding before her, a stark clash between the traditional values she held dear and the raw, coercive force of Anand’s presence. Her hesitation was more than resistance; it was the struggle of a woman torn between deeply ingrained principles and an impossible situation she hadn’t chosen.

Anand didn’t rush her. He stood still, his hands loosely at his sides, his expression deceptively calm. ‘Take your time,’ he murmured, his voice honeyed yet laced with unspoken authority. ‘I want you to really see it.’ It was a performance as much as it was an act of dominance—a display not just for Ananya, but for me, the invisible audience.

"Please, Anand, don’t make me do this," Ananya whispered, her voice trembling, but her words didn’t seem to reach him. His gaze stayed locked on her, unyielding "How can you do this?" Ananya’s voice cracked as she tried to reason with him, her hands clenched into fists. 

"What about Manavi? How can you betray her like this?"

Anand chuckled, brushing off her words. "Manavi’s had her moment. Now it’s yours. Just pull them down, and you can leave." He leaned in closer, his towering frame almost pressing against hers, his legs bracketing hers. The bulge in his shorts was level with her face now, its presence overwhelming and impossible to ignore.

Ananya’s breaths came in quick, shallow bursts as she sat, frozen by the weight of the moment. The tension in the room was suffocating, and her wide eyes stayed fixed on the growing bulge in front of her, as though it had taken command of her attention and will.

"Just look at it, and you can leave," she whispered shakily, her voice so faint it was almost lost in the oppressive quiet.

Anand’s grin widened, his confidence unshaken. "Sure. Just a look. But let’s be honest," he added, his voice dropping into a lower, teasing drawl. "You might find you want a little more than just a peek."

As her hand hovered near the waistband, a whirlwind of emotions surged through her—guilt, fear, and an unwelcome flicker of curiosity. Her traditional upbringing clashed violently with the reality before her. Was this truly her? The same woman who had once blushed at Ketan’s touch on their wedding night?

Watching her fingers tremble as they brushed the fabric, I felt an almost physical ache in my chest. Has it always been like this? Had I let her down so badly that this felt like her only escape? My failures as a husband seemed to stack themselves up in front of me, an unrelenting weight pressing against my chest.

I stayed hidden, my fists clenched in impotent rage as I watched Ananya hesitate, her hands trembling slightly. Slowly, as if on autopilot, she reached forward and grasped the waistband of Anand’s boxers. With a tug, she slid them down, the fabric pooling around his ankles. His cock sprang free, half-hard but already formidable, and its sudden motion startled her. It brushed against her cheek, making her recoil slightly, her gasp audible even from where I stood.

Her wide, shocked eyes darted to him, her lips parted in disbelief as she seemed to register, for the first time, just how large he was. The sight turned my stomach, though I couldn’t deny the power he exuded in that moment. He stood there, basking in her stunned reaction, utterly unashamed.

I wanted to yell, to burst into the room and stop this madness, but my feet felt nailed to the ground. Was this fear? Cowardice? Or something even worse—a sick, masochistic need to see what would happen next?

---

[veenaimo]

unwilling cuck is always good..

[Rangabaashyam]

Fantastic start.

[Jayam Ramana]

Time for wimpy ketan to leave his wife to Anand and move out her life.

[opheliyaa]

The husband has confessed he is a wimp to his friend.
He also want his wife satisfied by real man. Is this betrayal. Definitey not.
The way things unfold is interesting. Anand dominating and taking control of Ananya.
He should humiliate Ketan and make Ananya as his slut.

[killthecheats]

Fabulous start

[Givemeextra]

I wanted to yell, to burst into the room and stop this madness, but my feet felt nailed to the ground. Was this fear? Cowardice? Or something even worse—a sick, masochistic need to see what would happen next?

Betacucky,

What happened next?

[fuckandforget]

That was an amazing start. Anan(d)(ya)

[Samadhanam]

Wonderful

[Betacucky]

Chapter 2

"Enjoying the show?" The whisper was soft but clear in my ear, making me jump. I spun around to find Manavi right behind me, her approach silent and unseen. Her smile was slow, dangerously inviting, and her eyes sparkled with mischief. The way she looked at you could really make your pulse race. She was dressed casually yet somehow strikingly, in a tight black tank top that outlined her athletic frame, adding an edge of seductiveness to her playful demeanour.

She leaned in, her breath warm on my ear. "Looks like you are definitely enjoying the show huh?" she teased, her gaze flicking to my tiny but noticeable bulge in my shorts. Her voice was low, tinged with a teasing that suggested she found the situation amusing, or perhaps intriguing

Manavi’s perfume was intoxicating, blending subtly with the tension in the air. Part of me wanted to yell for them to stop this madness, but my body betrayed me, rooted to the spot in a mix of shock and curiosity. My heart pounded in my ears as I turned back to the scene unfolding before us, my eyes glued to the undeniable attraction playing out in front of us.

"Watch her, she's fascinated," Manavi whispered hotly into my ear, her voice thick with intrigue and a hint of something darker, almost conspiratorial. Her breath felt hot against my skin, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine.

But before I could muster a response, a sudden crash echoed through the room—the sharp, alarming sound of glass shattering in the bar area. It jolted us both, breaking the spell for a moment.

It was hard to tell whose elbow had caused the mishap—had Manavi done it on purpose, a mischievous act to add to the night's chaos, or was it my own elbow, lost in the distraction of the spectacle? The confusion added another layer of disarray to an already unsettling evening

Either way, the spell was broken. For a split second, I thought maybe the night could still be salvaged. But before anyone could react, Anand was taking giant strides toward me, his presence imposing.

He was up in my face before I could utter a word. "Shhh," he hissed, his finger pressing to his lips, then he gestured for Manavi to take Ananya to their bedroom. I was left standing there with Anand, tension crackling between us. The room felt smaller, the air heavier with every breath we took.

Ananya passed by us, a look of fear in her eyes as she headed toward the bedroom, her fate momentarily in Manavi's hands. She glanced back once, a silent plea for the help I wasn't sure I could give

Being my friend I had never seen Anand like this. He seemed possessed.

Anand's voice was like ice, slicing through the thick tension that hung in the air.
"Listen, I know about your bedroom troubles, how you’ve failed at fucking your wife all these years," he hissed, his words slicing through the air. 

Leaning closer, voice dropping to a taunt, "Admit it, you enjoyed watching what I was doing with your wife."

Before I could respond, Anand's hand struck my face with a sharp slap that resonated through the room. Stunned, I touched my cheek, the sting of the hit echoing the shock in my mind. I tried hitting him back but he subdued me very quickly with a neck lock and slapped me again. 

I was stunned, unable to process everything that just happened. He was supposed to be my friend. 

Before I could recover, he continued relentlessly, "Let me make something clear, Ketan. I am going to fuck Ananya whether you like it or not. You saw what happened just now, right outside here." His eyes glinted with a cruel satisfaction as he watched the shock and hurt play across my face, enjoying the power he wielded with his harsh words

His gaze fixed on me, hard and unyielding, he delivered his ultimatum, "If you let this happen the easy way, it'll be better for you. Like it or not, I'm going to make Ananya my slut tonight." With a sudden, shocking audacity, he reached down and grabbed my crotch, where my body had betrayed me with a telling bulge.

Squeezing roughly, he sneered, "See, even this little thing wants me to fuck your wife."

Releasing his grip, he leaned in closer, his voice a menacing whisper, "And just so you know, Ketan, I'm packing eight inches, and it's thick. Once Ananya experiences me, she's not going to settle for your tiny Lulli. So, be a good boy and stay out of my way, or you won’t like the consequences."

His words were a gut punch, leaving me reeling from their cruel, humiliating impact. The venom in his tone was palpable, dripping with contempt and the dark pleasure he derived from belittling me. The sheer brazenness of his threat made my blood boil even as fear crept into my veins

In the deafening silence that followed Anand's brutal words, a storm raged within me. My mind recoiled, yet somewhere deep inside, a part of me fought to make sense of the chaos. 'How did it come to this?' I asked myself, the weight of my own question pressing down on me. My thoughts spiraled, touching each moment that led here, each decision like a misstep on a treacherous path.

I felt the cold grip of fear tighten around my heart, yet it was not just for myself but for Ananya. The fear was mingled with shame—a burning, suffocating shame that I could not protect her, could not be the man she needed me to be. Each breath was a battle, each heartbeat a reminder of my failings.

In the quiet, I could almost hear the echo of our happier times, the laughter and love that once filled our home. These memories, now tainted by the current horror, taunted me. 'Is this my fault? Could I have prevented this?' The questions haunted me, each one a lash against the remnants of my resolve.

I swallowed hard, trying to gather the shards of my courage. I had to find a way out of this for both of us, even as despair whispered that it might already be too late.

"Please..." The plea escaped my lips before I could stop it, sounding alien and pathetic to my own ears. I wished desperately that it had been anyone else who had uttered that word.

 But it was me, voicing my own desperate resignation.

"What?" Anand snapped, his voice sharp, cutting through the heavy air and commanding every ounce of my shattered attention.

"Please don't," I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper, the reality of the situation sinking in. Each word trembled with fear and disbelief.

"I didn't hear you," he responded, his tone now utterly serious, edged with a cold authority. "Turn this way." Reflexively, I obeyed, turning to face him fully.

"Please don’t... don’t sleep with my wife." The words felt like a betrayal of my own dignity. Was I really begging this man, this asshole? I tried to sound assertive, to reclaim some semblance of control, but my voice faltered, betraying my desperation.

He laughed, a sound of genuine surprise and amusement, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. "Really, Ketan? Is that the best you can do?" His amusement seemed to fill the room, echoing off the walls and amplifying my humiliation.

I kept my gaze lowered, unable to meet his eyes, but acutely aware of his imposing presence. His muscular physique was hard to ignore, his stance wide, his boxers barely containing the growing bulge beneath. The sight was unnervingly dominant, a physical reminder of the threat he posed. The air between us charged with a palpable tension, my plea hanging in the air, fragile and forlorn.

Why was he doing this to me ? I thought he was my friend...

A heated flush of shame spread across my cheeks. I was disgusted with Ananya for stepping over the line, yet my own reaction to his  masculinity was even more disturbing. Or was it arousing? No, it couldn’t be. But the thought wouldn’t leave my mind, images flashing unbidden of Anand with my wife, her cries and moans filling the air, echoing in my skull like a symphony.

"Beg me," Anand's voice suddenly brought me back to reality, his command sharp and deep, slicing through the chaotic thoughts in my head.
"Wh... what?" I stuttered, my mind reeling, grappling with the audacity of his demand.

"I said," he leaned in closer, his breath hot against my face, "beg me. Beg me not to fuck your shy, traditional wife." His words were a taunt, a venomous challenge to my very manhood, dripping with disdain.

Was I really considering this?

Begging him not to fuck my own wife? Anger surged through me, a fiery wave of resentment and defiance. Who did he think he was ? The urge to lash out, to wipe that smug look off his face was overwhelming. Who did he think he was talking to? But he knew—he knew the power he wielded over me now, his grin predatory, eyes gleaming with the thrill of the hunt.

I hesitated, my emotions tangled in confusion and a shameful arousal. He'd probed a dark corner of my psyche I hadn't known existed, awakening a disturbing desire to yield.

"Don't make me say it again, boy," Anand's voice carried a veiled threat, electrifying the tense air between us.

The term 'boy' reverberated in my mind, underscoring my deep humiliation.

In the dimly lit room, Anand towered over me, his presence almost suffocating as I fought to keep myself together.

After a lengthy pause. "Please," I said again, the desperation clear in my voice despite my efforts to conceal it. "Please don't sleep with my wife."

Anand paused, his expression shifting to one of mock contemplation. "Who said anything about sleeping?" he quipped, his tone dripping with insinuation.

My nerves frayed, tension coursed through me. As Anand rose from the couch, his build more imposing than ever, I struggled not to stare at the powerful muscles outlining his frame or the pronounced bulge in his shorts that starkly highlighted my own shortcomings.

[Betacucky]

"Say it again," he demanded, his voice slicing through the heavy air. Before I could muster the words again, he interrupted sharply, "And mean it this time."
Compelled by the force of my humiliation, I dropped to my knees, an automatic response to his overwhelming authority. It felt as though my body was no longer mine to command, each movement orchestrated by the commanding tone of Anand's voice that filled the room. His laugh was sharp and mocking, cutting through me as he observed my visible discomfort mixed with an involuntary arousal.

"Much better," he remarked, his smirk broadening.

"Please, sir—" The word 'sir' slipped out unintentionally, solidifying the unsettling shift in our dynamics. "Please don't...fuck my wife." The repetition of my plea was both humiliating and necessary, a desperate call for mercy in a situation rapidly spiraling beyond my control.

Anand stepped closer, each movement calculated to intimidate. I instinctively retreated, only to find my escape blocked by the solid frame of the bar cabinet. Trapped, I watched as he closed in, his presence overwhelming.
The fabric of his boxers stretched taut over his form, the nearness of his large bulge a visceral reminder of the control he held over the situation. The room felt claustrophobically small, suffused only with the electric tension between us and the bitter taste of my own forced submission.

"You're not very good at this begging thing, are you? Looks like I'll have to make your wife my slut afterall," Anand declared, his voice laced with a cold finality.

"No!" My protest was feeble, my voice shaking, betraying the closeness of my tears—a reaction that even surprised me.

In a swift, brutal motion, Anand's hand struck my face hard, the slap resonating like a gunshot through the room. The sting of the blow was sharp, but it paled in comparison to the deeper, more profound pain of realizing my utter helplessness, kneeling submissively at his feet.

"You don't say no to me. Do you understand?" His tone was icy, the authority in his voice undisputed.

Tears welled up and began streaming down my cheeks as I managed a weak, "Yes, Sir."

"Aw..." Anand's laugh was merciless, laced with cruelty. "I doubt she'll find you very appealing after seeing what a little crybaby you are. Don’t you think so?" His words cut deeper, mocking my pain and further stripping away any remnants of dignity.

"Now strip down and show me your tiny little Lulli," he commanded with a sneer, making it clear resistance was futile.
With a sinking heart, I complied, my hands shaking as I unfastened my boxers. They fell to the floor with a soft thud. His laughter erupted, booming around the room, as he mocked, "Oh my god, I feel bad for Ananya. Mine was bigger than this back in high college," his words dripping with disdain. This additional mockery was like a knife to my already bruised ego.


Then, probing further, Anand asked, "Is she the only one you've been with?"
Unable to meet his eye, I could only nod silently, my admission sending a thrill through him.
"Oh, so she has never ever been fucked properly," Anand mused aloud, smirking to himself. His excitement was palpable as he declared, "This is going to be interesting." Without any hint of hesitation, he stripped off his boxers, revealing a size that seemed to defy reality, akin to something one might see in a porn film. My gasp was involuntary, the shock of it catching me off guard.
His grin grew broader. "Keeping up? Don’t force me to discipline you again," he threatened, his hand raised menacingly as a stark reminder.

"Good," he noted as I quickly nodded, forcing myself to stay present. "All you have to do to prevent me from demolishing your wife with this... is to stop me."
Confused and overwhelmed, I stammered, "How?"

"It’s simple. Stop me if you think you're man enough," he mocked, his voice filled with derision, clearly dismissing any threat from me.

"But let's be real," he continued, eyeing my trembling, exposed body, "there’s nothing you can really do, is there?" His tone was dismissive.

He paused, his eyes narrowing as he waited for a response. "I asked you a question!" he thundered, his voice echoing menacingly through the room.
My head jerked back as he grabbed my hair, eliciting a sharp yelp of pain from me. "No! No, there's nothing I can do! Please let me go," I pleaded, tears streaming down my face as the bitter realization of my helplessness sank in.
Anand's response was a harsh slap across my face, harder than before. The force of the impact left me reeling, pain throbbing through my cheek, feeling as though it might split. "I told you to start showing some respect!" he barked, his hand striking again, slightly less forceful but equally painful.

Tears flowed freely now, and I sobbed, "Please... please, sir!"

"Please what?" he barked, his tone unforgiving.

Dizzy from the blows and the acute pain, I struggled to remember his earlier commands. "I... I..." "Well?" he snapped, his impatience palpable.

At last, the words tumbled out in a rush of shame. "Please sir, I..." but before I could finish, he interrupted sharply, "Repeat after me, you little bitch. Please." With his hand still tangled in my hair, I cried out, "Please!"
"Sir!"

"There's nothing..." he prompted, tightening his grip menacingly.

Scrambling to collect my thoughts, then remembering, I managed, "There's nothing I can do! Please fuck my wife!"

His laughter was cruel and mocking as he spun me around and pushed me over the counter, facing forward. "Again!" he demanded harshly.

Panic surged through me, but I was paralyzed, especially as I heard some noise at the door. Turning my head, I saw Manavi and Ananya standing there, shock written all over Ananya’s face. Ananya was wearing the sheer white lingerie I had given her, the fabric clinging to her curves in a way that was both beautiful and heartbreaking. Seeing her husband on his knees, begging for this humiliation, must have been devastating.
As I glanced over, Ananya stood frozen at the doorway, all color drained from her face. Her eyes were wide, staring at the scene in front of her, as shock slowly turned into understanding. The white lingerie she wore stood out against the dark horror in her eyes, almost reminding us of the innocence we thought this night would hold.

Next to her, Manavi had a smirk on her face, whispering something into Ananya’s ear that made her straighten up. This left me even more confused, trying to piece together what Manavi could have said to convince Ananya to wear her lingerie.
For a moment, she looked like she couldn’t believe what was happening, her mouth open as if she wanted to say something or scream, but no sound came out. It was as if the sight of her husband like this—humiliated by someone we once called a friend—was too much for her to take in.

Her hands started shaking; it spread like a wave through her arms, making her grip the door frame for support. The fabric of her lingerie fluttered with each breath she took, showing just how vulnerable she felt.


As Anand turned away, momentarily distracted by a message on his phone, the room's oppressive atmosphere seemed to weigh heavier on me. On my knees I leaned against the wall, trying to steady my shaking hands. The reality of the situation felt surreal, like a nightmare I couldn't wake from. How had a simple evening turned into this?

Anger and fear mingled within me, creating a tumultuous storm that threatened to overwhelm my senses. 'Is this really happening?' I wondered, my mind struggling to grasp the sequence of events that led here. The sight of Ananya in her lingerie, her expression a mix of confusion and terror, replayed in my mind over and over. Each replay twisted the knife of guilt deeper into my gut. I felt responsible, utterly powerless—a spectator in my own life.
Questions raced through my mind. 'What could I have done differently? Is there still time to change the outcome?'

Anand's hand suddenly struck the side of my head sharply, snapping me back to the grim reality of the moment. "Say it now!" he barked.

"Please! Please, fuck her" I whimpered.

"Fuck who?" he snarled, his voice thick with lust and anticipation.

"Please, sir, fuck my wife," I forced the words out, slow and heavy, each one dripping with a mixture of dread and resignation.

"No," he corrected harshly, his hand clamping around my jaw, forcing me to face Manavi and Ananya directly. "Say it again, and use her name this time."
Struggling against the painful grip on my hair and face, I confronted my ultimate defeat. I looked at my wife briefly and then faced Anand "Please, sir. Please fuck my wife, Ananya. Fuck her hard," I choked out, my voice breaking as tears streamed down my face. "Please, fuck her with your big dick," the words fell from my lips in a desperate cascade, a plea to end this torment.

[Givemeextra]

Struggling against the painful grip on my hair and face, I confronted my ultimate defeat. I looked at my wife briefly and then faced Anand "Please, sir. Please fuck my wife, Ananya. Fuck her hard," I choked out, my voice breaking as tears streamed down my face. "Please, fuck her with your big dick," the words fell from my lips in a desperate cascade, a plea to end this torment.

Poor guy, his torment is going to start now only.... A broken man in the making

[Samadhanam]

Ketan knows that Ananya will not have any respect for him anymore. So he will commit suicide the same night when Ananya lose her chastity to Anand. The approach Anand took is cruelsome and not like a friends staying together. he might even hit the balls of Ketan and make him permanently impotent.

[ronylol]

super going

[Thangaraasu]

Anand is going to bang her?

[Gopal Ratnam]

Title Journey through betrayal is not matching with the flow. Anand has taken his friends wife forcefully humiliating his friend and his wife is partner in crime on that. Is he friend or enemy.