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

[Samadhanam]

The narration is excellent, but the plot seems to be weak like the husbands.

[NovelNavel]

It is very disgusting to see the husbands behaving like a puppet in the party. Not a single one has the guts to say no?

[Paty@123]

Plz update

[RANA ROY]

Awesome......

[Paty@123]

Update plz

[Betacucky]

In the aftermath of the "Dark Auction Game," the atmosphere in Anand’s lavish living room remained thick with a mix of dread and residual excitement. The lights that had earlier flickered with promise now cast an eerie glow, highlighting the surreal scene before Ketan. Everyone had shifted from the gaming circle to a more dispersed arrangement around the room, holding plates piled with biryani, yet there was little appetite for conversation. They were all allowed to wear their underwear for dinner. 


Ketan, still grappling with the evening's surreal turn of events, leaned against the wall, his plate of biryani untouched. His eyes, however, couldn't help but roam. The room was a sight like he had never seen before, each female guest revealing more than just their discomfort. The soft light accentuated curves and shadows in a way that was both alluring and discomforting given the circumstances.

Simran, in a delicate emerald bra and matching panties, served herself a modest portion of biryani. Her movements were hesitant, aware of the eyes tracing her every step. Ketan found his gaze lingering on her, the soft fabric of her underwear outlining her form in a way that stirred a familiar warmth within him. As she bent slightly to reach for the naan, the outline of her figure became more pronounced, sparking a subtle arousal that Ketan struggled to suppress.

As the heat in the room escalated, Simran's thin  bra became less of an obstruction to the gaze of others. Her nipples press visibly against the fabric, drawing attention not just from Ketan but also from others in the room. The flush on her cheeks betrayed her awareness of her exposed state,

Not far from him, Ananya was laughing at something Asif had said. Clad only in a black lace bra and a thin, barely-there panty, she seemed oblivious to the effect her appearance had on those around her. Neeraj, standing a little too close, watched her with an intensity that didn't go unnoticed by Ketan. Every giggle, every casual touch Ananya shared with Asif, seemed to draw a reluctant fascination from Neeraj, his gaze conflicted yet glued to her.

Ananya, caught between her loyalty to Ketan and the thrilling, dangerous attention from Asif, finds herself inadvertently responding to the charged atmosphere. Her breaths seem shallower, causing her breasts to rise and fall more noticeably under her scant lace bra. Each laugh and touch from Asif sends a contradictory thrill through her, visible in the quick glances she throws Ketan's way, filled with apology and confusion.

Anand and Manavi, circulated through the room separately, adding to the evening's charged dynamics. Manavi, in a daring black strapless bra and sheer panties, chatted animatedly with the wives. Anand, not far away, discussed something intently with Simran. His grey boxers did little to hide the substantial outline of his arousal, a visual brag that seemed to underscore his dominant role in the evening’s proceedings. 


Meanwhile, Priya, in a pastel-pink bra and panties set, stood somewhat apart, engaging in a low, flirtatious conversation with Asif. Asif’s posture, confident and relaxed, contrasted sharply with Rahul’s defeated demeanor nearby. As Priya laughed at something Asif whispered, her body inching closer to his, the tension in Rahul’s shoulders spoke volumes.
Rahul was completely naked, a stark reminder of his designated role as the night’s most humiliated participant. A makeshift dog collar, fashioned from a belt, was tight around his neck, and he was on all fours, positioned near Anand and Asif.

Anand, ever the orchestrator, was standing comfortably with only his silk boxers on, his confidence undiminished by his attire—or lack thereof. His large semi-erect cock was noticeable from across the room. He made no effort to hide it; instead, he used it as a tool of dominance, his posture relaxed and open, challenging anyone to question his authority.  

Similarly, Asif was standing with an air of casual command. His large bulge is barely contained by his briefs, a visual assertion of his sexual prowess. He occasionally adjusted  himself, more out of necessity than modesty, his smirk suggesting he enjoys the discomfort it brings to others, especially the men whose wives he openly seduces.

Across the room, the wives' glances flickered with a mix of curiosity and caution towards Anand and Asif. Priya, occasionally tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, couldn't help but notice the distinct bulges beneath their briefs. Asif, particularly unabashed, adjusted himself more than once, his actions bold and provocative, drawing stifled gasps and hurried glances from the wives, including Priya whose cheeks tinged with a blush each time her eyes met the undeniable prominence in his attire.

The scene was grotesquely surreal to Ketan. Here he was in a scenario more fitting a deranged spectacle than a casual gathering. His wife, Ananya, was scantily clad and flirtatiously chatting with Asif just a few feet away. The sight of her laughter, so carefree and intimate with another man, twisted a knot in Ketan’s stomach. Her near-nakedness, which should have aroused him in another context, now only fueled a deep-seated feeling of betrayal.

He caught snippets of their conversation, her light, teasing tone, which contrasted sharply with the heavy, shameful weight settling in his chest. Every glance she threw Asif's way, every touch she didn’t rebuff, seemed to underscore Ketan’s impotence in this game that had escalated far beyond his control.

Asif leaned in closer to Ananya, his voice loud enough for Ketan to hear with a brazen boldness that made her cheeks flush. "You know, that your black lacy panties would look even better on my bedroom floor tonight,  his eyes glinting with mischief as he glanced down briefly, appreciating the way the fabric accentuated her form.

Ketan leaned against the cool wall, his plate of untouched biryani forgotten as he watched the chaotic scene before him. His mind raced as he saw Rahul, broken and defeated,crouching like a dog,  a stark symbol of the humiliation that could befall any of them. The silence of the humiliated couple’s dressing up made Ketan's stomach churn—not just from disgust but from a gnawing fear. Was this a glimpse of his own future?

The realization that he might just be another Rahul—a spectator in his own life, powerless and humiliated—sent a shiver down his spine. He wasn't sure anymore where his desires ended and his fears began. At Least Rahul fought back ? or did he finally break. Did they succeed in breaking him ?

He caught himself, his thoughts drifting dangerously towards acceptance of what was unfolding before him. "Is this what I am too?" he wondered, his inner voice laced with a mix of dread and resignation. "A cuckold?" The word echoed in his mind, stark and unyielding. He felt a shameful thrill at the term, a label he had read about in countless stories online, never imagining it could apply to him.

His gaze lowered to his lap, where a small but undeniable bulge in his underwear betrayed his physical response to the night’s events. The realization was jarring. His body seemed to react on its own accord, independent of his emotional turmoil. The arousal was undeniable, a physical testament to his latent desires, or perhaps merely a response to the erotic charge of the room.

Ketan’s heart raced as he wrestled with these new revelations about himself. The thought of being aroused by his own wife's flirtations with another man was both humiliating and strangely invigorating. He questioned everything he had believed about himself, about his masculinity, and about his role in their relationship.

Was he truly content to watch from the sidelines, relegated to the role of a spectator in his own marriage? Or was this night revealing a deeper, more complex facet of his desires—one that he had suppressed or ignored for the sake of maintaining a facade of control?

The conversations around him faded into a distant backdrop as Ketan delved deeper into his introspection. The implications of his reactions were profound, suggesting a path forward that was fraught with uncertainty and potential disgrace. Yet, there was also a liberating aspect to this acknowledgment, a freeing acknowledgment of his true desires hidden beneath layers of societal expectations and personal denial.


The clink of fine china and the occasional subdued murmur of conversation did little to dispel the heavy air that hung like a pall over the room. At the dining area, a large pot of biryani sat on a makeshift buffet table, its steam carrying the scent of spices across the room. Guests served themselves in a mechanical fashion, the normal joy of communal eating lost in the shadow of the game’s aftermath.

Rahul was on the floor on his fours. His knees were starting to ache now. Each flicker of the dim lights not only cast ghostly shadows across the walls but also seemed to mirror the dark waves of resentment and betrayal washing over him. His eyes, once full of life, now dull and hollow, reflected a man pushed to the brink, caught in a relentless storm of disgrace and an overwhelming urge to flee from the suffocating atmosphere.

As Rahul crouched on the floor, his mind raced through a tumult of conflicting emotions. Despite the surreal and degrading scene unfolding around him, a part of him clung to the threads of his marriage with a desperation that both shamed and anchored him. In his heart, a storm of conventional values and the provocative tales of hotwife stories he had encountered online clashed tumultuously.

"I never thought I'd find myself here, living out some twisted fantasy I read about in those stories that Priya keeps on sending me," he thought, his gaze fixed on the ground to avoid the scornful looks. "I'm just an ordinary guy, not cut out for this... this game they're playing with my life."
Rahul’s thoughts wandered to Priya, his beautiful, vibrant Priya, who seemed so entangled in this night's wild escapades. "Is this what she needs from me? To be open, to embrace a lifestyle that's so alien to everything I've ever believed in?" The idea felt like a betrayal of every vow they had made. 


The murmurs around him faded into a distant hum as his thoughts spiraled into a dark abyss. He watched Priya, his wife, laughing a bit too loudly at something Asif whispered into her ear, her shoulders shaking with mirth, her body clad only in her undergarments. The sight twisted a knife in his heart, each laugh a piercing jab to his ego.

In his head, a voice whispered venomously, "But look at her, Rahul. She's not yours tonight. Maybe she never was." The words echoed, bouncing around his skull like a sinister echo in a dark cave. His hands clenched into fists on his knees, the knuckles white with the strain of holding himself together.

Rahul’s gaze shifted to Anand and Asif, who seemed to relish the spectacle before them. Every chuckle, every smirk from them was a reminder of his powerlessness, a stark contrast to their dominance. "They think they own us," he thought bitterly, the taste of humiliation thick in his mouth. "They think they can use us for their sick games."
The game had stripped him of more than his clothes; it had peeled away any semblance of dignity he had left. As he caught snippets of conversations, suggestive and lewd, swirling around the acts performed during the auction, his stomach churned. 

As Rahul watched Priya flirt openly with Asif, a sickening feeling twisted in his gut. The candlelight flickered, casting shadows that seemed to mock his despair. He gripped his fork tighter, his knuckles whitening, as he forced himself to watch. "This can't be my life," he thought miserably, his heart aching with each laugh Priya shared with Asif. The way she leaned in, her voice a sultry whisper, made Rahul's skin crawl. "She's enjoying this ?. Doesn't she see how this is killing me?"

His thoughts were a swirling chaos of humiliation and hurt. "I'm just a joke to her, aren't I? Just a pathetic cuckold," he mused bitterly, the word 'cuckold' echoing in his mind like a cruel taunt. Every touch she didn’t pull away from, every smile she gave Asif, was a dagger to Rahul’s already wounded pride. "She's no longer the woman I married. She’s someone else’s plaything now," he concluded with a heavy heart.

The laughter and conversation around him felt distant, muffled by the storm of his emotions. "Why did I agree to this game? This was a mistake—a grotesque, humiliating mistake," he lamented internally, regret gnawing at his insides. The realization that he had allowed himself to be drawn into such a degrading situation filled him with self-loathing.
"I need an out. I can't endure this any longer," Rahul's mind screamed for escape, his eyes scanning for any sign of reprieve. The image of Priya, so casual and intimate with another man, replayed relentlessly in his head, each loop a fresh cut against his already frayed composure.


As he stewed in his dark thoughts, a part of him began to detach, to recoil from the woman he thought he knew. "I can't live like this, tethered to her shame. I need to free myself from this nightmare," he resolved, a cold clarity beginning to form amidst the turmoil. The thought of breaking free from the cycle of humiliation offered a sliver of solace, a distant light in the overwhelming darkness.


Every nerve in Rahul’s body screamed for him to stand, to shout, to stop the madness, but the weight of the room’s expectations pinned him down. The makeshift collar around his neck felt like it was tightening, a noose of shame that threatened to choke the sanity from him. He imagined ripping it off, imagining standing up and reclaiming his place beside Priya, away from this twisted scene.

But then, a piece of chicken was tossed at his face, snapping him back to the grim reality. The gesture was dismissive, degrading, and it ignited something within him—a fiery mix of shame and defiance. "Fetch, Rahul," Asif's voice rang out, cruel and taunting. The laughter that followed was like acid on his wounds.

At that moment, something within Rahul snapped. The humiliation, the betrayal, the sheer surreal quality of the evening were too much to bear silently any longer.Rahul stood abruptly. The games had pushed him beyond his limits. The image of Priya’s naked body and Asif’s big circumcised cock replayed relentlessly in his mind, each loop a fresh slice against his already tattered composure.

"I can’t do this anymore," he murmured to himself first, the words gaining strength and volume as he prepared to voice them aloud. It was more than a statement; it was a declaration of reclaiming his dignity, of breaking free from the chains of humiliation that had bound him that night. "I won't be their puppet any longer," he resolved, steeling himself for the confrontation that would follow.

Priya reached out, her voice a soothing whisper meant to calm him

“No, we’re leaving!” Rahul snapped, jerking away from her touch. His eyes, wild and desperate, flicked from face to face, seeking an ally where he found none. “I’m done with this, Priya! I can’t watch this... I can’t be a part of this anymore!”

Priya hesitated, her eyes darting between Rahul’s defeated form. The sight of Rahul, reduced to such a state, twisted her insides, yet part of her rebelled against the sympathy she felt for him. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of conflict and defiance. He fucked up my brother’s life for a promotion; and now he has the balls to question my life choices? she pondered, her heart heavy but her resolve hardening.

She found her voice, a mix of frustration and desperation cutting through the tense air. "Rahul, I know you must be thinking that I have turned into a whore….but how can you stand in judgment when your own confessions tonight have messed up our life more than my actions possibly could have, you too whored your morals for what ? A better paycheck?" Her words were sharp, a reflection of her inner turmoil.

Rahul’s gaze lifted from the floor, his expression a raw display of vulnerability and indignation. "That’s different, Priya! What I confessed was a mistake from the past—what you’re doing right now... you seem to revel in this humiliation!" His words were strained, pushed out through gritted teeth as he struggled to maintain his composure in his degrading pose.
Priya flinched, the accusation stinging more than she expected. "Revel? You think I enjoy this?" Her voice broke, a blend of anger and hurt bubbling to the surface. "You confessed to sabotaging my brother for your career, Rahul! And here I am, being branded a slut by you? Someone who betrayed his own family ? !"

Rahul’s eyes darkened, his body tense and his voice laced with bitterness as he spat back, "Yes, Priya! Because look at you—almost naked, flirting and laughing with them like... like a common whore!"

The word sliced through the thick air, leaving a palpable chill. Priya’s face hardened, her eyes glinting with tears of anger and humiliation. "Maybe I wouldn’t have if you had been a man enough to satisfy me in bed!" Her words were venomous, each syllable dripping with contempt and defiance.

Their eyes locked, a tumultuous mix of betrayal, pain, and unresolved love passing between them. Around them, the room’s atmosphere tightened, the other guests bearing witness to a marital bond fraying under the weight of public disgrace and private agony.
Anand stepped forward, his demeanor calm but authoritative. Rahul, don’t forget, If you walk out now, the video of us with Priya doesn't stay private. Everyone will know what your wife sounds like when she is fucked by our cocks and how you love to jerk off to your wife being satisfied by bigger cocks” 
Behind him, Asif’s presence loomed, his voice low and dangerous. “Remember, Rahul, we have the footage. “Think about what you’re doing. There are consequences to breaking the agreement.”
In the heated atmosphere of Anand’s living room, the tension escalated into chaos. Rahul, his emotions frayed to breaking point, felt a surge of desperate courage—or perhaps it was sheer terror—as he lunged toward the dining table. His hands found a steak knife, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat of his boiling rage. Gripping it tightly, he turned, facing Anand and Asif with wild, determined eyes.
Anand stepped forward, his usual composure slipping into a sneer. “Really, Rahul? Quit playing before you hurt someone. Is this how you want it to end?”
Asif, his smirk fading into a scowl, moved to flank Anand, both of them advancing slowly towards Rahul. The room fell deathly silent, every guest’s eyes locked on the unfolding drama, the air thick with the scent of biryani and fear.
Rahul’s voice cracked as he raised the knife, not in attack, but as a shield, a barrier to stave off his humiliation. “Let us leave, or I swear, I’ll end it right here!” His hand trembled violently, the blade catching the dim light, casting menacing shadows.
Anand paused, eyeing the knife in Rahul’s unsteady grip, then shot a glance at Asif, who nodded slightly, a silent agreement passing between them. Asif’s voice was cold, laced with contempt but carrying a calculated calm. “Put down the knife, Rahul. You don’t want to do this. Think of Priya. How will she cope if you’re gone? Because of some twisted pride in your nonexistent manhood?”
Anand coolly stepped forward, his voice slicing through the tension. "Rahul, really, who are you kidding?" he scoffed, his smirk wide and taunting. "It's not us forcing Priya—it's her choice. She likes it, doesn’t she? Likes it more than being with her pathetic, weak husband."
Asif joined in, laughter in his voice as he circled Rahul like a predator. "Exactly, mate. You’re just a beta, a little cuckold. Priya needs a real man, not a sniveling boy who can't handle his own wife."
Rahul’s face twisted in a mix of pain and anger, his fists clenching at his sides as he tried to process the venom in their words. He looked towards Priya, his voice cracking with emotion,
As Rahul’s emotional turmoil peaked, Anand and Asif didn’t let up, their taunts becoming even more personal and biting. Asif, with a cruel sneer, jabbed further, "And let’s not forget your wife just had an orgasm because of me, Rahul. It’s hard to keep a woman like Priya happy with that tiny excuse of a dick you’ve got."
Anand laughed, adding fuel to the fire, "Yeah, it's almost a public service we’re doing for her, showing her what she’s been missing out on." His gaze flicked dismissively towards Rahul's lower body, his disdain evident.
Rahul flinched as if struck, each word slicing through him like a blade. The mockery of his physical inadequacies was a low blow, stripping away any remnants of his pride. His face reddened, a mixture of shame and helpless rage as the laughter echoed around him, pinning him under a spotlight of humiliation.
"Maybe I shouldn't be married to you at all!" he blurted out to Priya, his voice a mixture of rage and heartbreak.
Asif laughed cruelly, clapping his hands mockingly. "There’s the spirit, Rahul! But really, where will you go? Who else would have you and your sorry disappointing Penis?Even if you remarry, we will make sure that we fuck your new wife too"
Anand’s voice turned icy as he leaned in close to Rahul, his words a sharp whisper. "Remember, Rahul, if you try to leave, everyone will know about Priya’s little escapades and your jerking off to your wife being fucked. The video... it’s quite convincing, you know."
Rahul trembled, torn between his love for Priya and his dignity. His voice was low, almost defeated. "I can’t do this. I can’t live like this”
Priya reached for him, her voice finally breaking through her own doubts. "Rahul, please, let’s just go and talk about this. We can figure it out, just the two of us."
Rahul’s grip loosened, and the knife clattered to the floor, the sound echoing ominously in the still room. Anand stepped back, his expression unreadable, then with a subtle nod to Asif, he signaled the end of the confrontation. “Fine,” Anand conceded, his voice low, “Leave for tonight. But remember,us letting us go tonight, it changes nothing. The video still exists.”


Asif, though clearly reluctant, stepped back, giving Rahul room to pass. The room fell into an uncomfortable silence as Rahul, still completely naked, began to clothe himself, each movement heavy with the weight of the evening's humiliations. The dim light cast long shadows over his frame, accentuating the tense lines of his body as he reached for his clothes scattered across the floor. Priya, already in her bra and beige panties, 

As she leaned over to retrieve her pink kurta, Asif, with a wolfish grin, stepped close, his fingers boldly brushing against her side and momentarily gripping her breast with a sneering "One for the road." His voice, dripping with mockery, was loud enough for all to hear, adding another layer of degradation to an already fraught moment. Rahul's face turned a deeper shade of red, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and helplessness, his lips parting as if to protest, but no words came out.

The other guests shifted awkwardly, their expressions a mix of discomfort and morbid fascination. No one spoke; the only sounds were the rustling of fabric and the soft clinks of buckles and buttons being fastened. Every glance, every whisper, felt like an accusation, making the already tense atmosphere nearly unbearable. Rahul hurriedly buttoned his shirt, his movements jerky and uncoordinated, while Priya's hands shook as she slid into her leggings, her usual grace nowhere to be seen.
As they dressed under the weight of the room's gaze, the stark reality of their situation settled around them like a heavy cloak. The humiliation was not just in the acts they had been coerced into but in the nakedness of their departure, stripped of dignity and exposed in more ways than one.



As the door clicked shut behind Rahul and Priya, a heavy silence enveloped the room. The immediate shock of their departure lingered like a dense fog, making each remaining guest acutely aware of the fragile line they were all treading. While the sharp sting of betrayal and humiliation still echoed through the air, a slow realization began to dawn upon the group. The night's games were far from over, and for those left, the journey into their own dark desires and fears was only deepening.

Ketan, his gaze fixed on the spot where Rahul had made his last stand, felt a cold dread settle in his stomach. The part of him that empathized with Rahul’s plight was at war with the thrill of identifying as a cuckold. His eyes briefly met Neeraj's, sharing a moment of unspoken understanding—they were too entangled in the web of Anand’s design to simply walk away. Neeraj, visibly shaken, adjusted his posture, an uncharacteristic resolve hardening his features as he prepared for whatever was next.

Manavi, leaning against Anand with a smirk, whispered loud enough for others to hear, "Well, that was quite the show, wasn't it?" Her tone was one of cold amusement, reflecting the twisted entertainment they found in the emotional turmoil of their guests.
Anand nodded, his expression composed but his eyes sharp and calculating. "Indeed, but the night is far from over. We have more... games to play," he announced, his gaze sweeping over Ketan and Neeraj, who looked visibly shaken but resigned to their fate. "Remember, everyone here has chosen to participate. And as we've all seen, choices have consequences."
The message was clear: despite the unsettling events, the games would continue, and withdrawal was not without its penalties. Neeraj and Ketan exchanged wary glances, the reality of their continued involvement setting in. Their reluctance was palpable, but the unspoken threats and manipulations left them with little real choice but to press on.
The remaining guests, now acutely aware of the stakes and the depth of the manipulation at play, settled back into their places. Some were reconsidering their willingness to continue, but the allure of the game, combined with the fear of repercussions, kept them rooted to the spot. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation and dread, a mix of eagerness and fear about what Anand and Manavi would orchestrate next.

[Rangushki]

It is always not good to talk intimate personal things with even a friend. Ketan dig his own grave by doing this mistake and deserve all this humiliation and lost his wife. In another angle, he should be happy that atleast his wife is happy and satisfied now and getting everything that he failed to give her.

[Rangushki]

This update is more about Rahul, he cannot handle the situation only for the reaon that there are another two couple came to know about his shortcomings. He went to call his wife as whore and she shot back saying you did not behave like a man. It is more humiliating that what she did with Anand and Asif. Blackmail with the video playing vital role and wife willing to open legs for Asif, Rahul cannot do much about this. Priya will not start cheating from his back if he is not cooperative.

[Ajay Kailash]

Fantastic update.
At least Rahul has some self esteem to say No. But these brutes will make his life more miserable and make him pay the price for this behavior.

[Betacucky]

In the aftermath of Rahul and Priya's sudden departure, the living room of Anand's house settled into a heavy silence. The flickering Lamps cast eerie shadows across the faces of the remaining guests, all scattered around the room in various states of undress, reflecting the night’s earlier debauchery. Each carried a plate piled high with biryani, though few seemed to have much appetite.


Ketan stood near a corner, a plate in his hand more from social convention than hunger. The rich aroma of biryani, which would normally be inviting, seemed at odds with the charged atmosphere. His eyes wandered over the scantily clad bodies around him, noting the uncomfortable shifts and muted conversations as each guest grappled with the evening’s revelations.

Nearby, Neeraj, stripped down to his briefs, shared a similar lack of appetite. His gaze often flickered towards Simran, who was laughingly engaged in a conversation with Asif and Anand. Neeraj's face betrayed his turmoil—torn between arousal and a sinking feeling of despair.

Neeraj, a year into his reluctant journey as a cuckold, seemed particularly contemplative, his eyes occasionally darting towards Simran, who was engaged in a lively conversation with Asif and Anand. Neeraj shifted uncomfortably, the floor beneath him a poor substitute for the security he longed for. He turned to Ketan, his voice a low blend of weariness and candor. "Being an unwilling cuckold, Ketan, it's like living with a constant ache inside you," he began, his gaze lost somewhere in the middle distance. "It’s not just about the sexual acts— It’s watching the woman I love, the woman I married, turning to someone else for what I should be giving her. Each time, it feels like I lose a piece of myself, a piece I used to be proud of.. It's the feeling of perpetual inadequacy. It's about sitting on the sidelines of your own life, watching helplessly as someone else dictates the terms of your most intimate moments."
He paused, collecting his thoughts as the room's laughter echoed like a taunt. "Every encounter, every interaction that Simran has with them, it chips away at something deep inside me. And what’s worse," Neeraj's voice dropped to a whisper, his eyes darkening with a mix of hurt and resignation, "is the ambiguity of my feelings. The confusion between arousal and devastation—it's maddening. 

You start to question your worth, your manhood. "Like one night last month," Neeraj began, his voice slightly shaky as if the mere recollection threatened his composure. "I watched, hidden behind the door, torn between the rush of my heartbeat and the cold dread in my stomach. Her moans, meant for another, were both intoxicating and suffocating." He paused, swallowing hard, his gaze unfocused as he relived the moment. "It was as if each sound she made was a double-edged sword, cutting into me. On one hand, it was arousing, a primal part of me drawn to the eroticism of the scene. But at the same time, it devastated me, knowing those passions were ignited by someone else’s touch."
Ketan saw the pain etched deeply in Neeraj's face, his features tight with the strain of conflicting emotions. "How do you reconcile those feelings?" he asked, his own voice barely a whisper, fearing the answer might mirror his deepest fears.

Neeraj sighed, a sound filled with weariness and resignation. "You don’t, not really," he replied. "You learn to live with them, like two sides of the same coin. You flip it every day, not knowing which side will land up. But you always hope, maybe foolishly, that tomorrow might be different, that the pain might lessen, even if the desire never fully fades."
His words hung in the air, a testament to the complicated, often painful reality of living as a cuckold. Neeraj's experience laid bare the stark duality of their situation—caught between desire and devastation, arousal and anguish.

Neeraj glanced back at Simran, who was now laughing at something Anand had said, her hand casually brushing against his arm. "You feel trapped," he continued, turning back to Ketan, "trapped by your love for her and by the fear of losing her. It’s a cycle of desire and despair, and you're caught right in the middle, unsure if stepping out would mean liberation or complete collapse."

Ketan nodded slowly, absorbing Neeraj’s words, the gravity of his plight becoming painfully clear. "And despite all that," Neeraj added, a bitter laugh escaping him, "you cling to the hope that maybe, just maybe, this is just a phase. That maybe she’ll see you, really see you, and come back, leaving all this behind. But deep down, you know it’s a fool’s hope."
The raw honesty in Neeraj's voice resonated with Ketan, mirroring his own unspoken fears. It was a harsh reality laid bare, the life of a cuckold not just a passive state but a tumultuous, ongoing battle with one’s self-worth and marital bonds.

Ketan absorbed Neeraj's words, each one echoing his own unvoiced fears. The atmosphere around them buzzed with the idle chatter and laughter of the other guests, yet it seemed a world away. He shifted slightly, his discomfort palpable even to himself. A moment of silence stretched between them before he found his voice, his question more a reflection of his internal struggle than mere curiosity.

"And how do you cope, Neeraj?" Ketan asked, his tone laced with a mix of awe and dread. "When every part of you screams to step in, but your feet might as well be cemented to the floor? How do you bear watching it all unfold when every fiber in your being is resisting?"

Neeraj's gaze shifted from Simran to Ketan, his eyes reflecting a well of pain and understanding. He took a slow breath, seeming to gather the weight of his experiences before replying. "It's like watching a storm ravage something you love," he started, his voice soft yet firm. "There’s a helplessness that claws at you, a rage mixed with despair. But over time, you learn to build a wall around those feelings. Not to block them out, but to manage them, to keep functioning."

"You find routines, distractions," Neeraj continued, his eyes momentarily drifting to where Simran stood, her laughter mingling with Anand's deeper chuckles. "You cling to the moments of normalcy, to the memories of what used to be. And sometimes," he added, a bitter edge creeping into his voice, "you fool yourself into believing it could turn back, that somehow, it’s just a phase."

Ketan listened, each word resonating too closely with his own recent thoughts. He pondered Neeraj’s coping mechanism, wondering if such a partition in his mind was even possible for him. Could he truly distance himself from his emotions, or was he destined to be swallowed by them?
"It’s about survival, Ketan," Neeraj concluded, his voice almost a whisper now. "Surviving your own heartbreak, your pride, your desires. It's not about what you want anymore; it's about enduring what you must."

Ketan nodded slowly, his mind a tumult of emotions. Neeraj’s words offered no comfort, only a mirror to his own fears and potential future. As he watched Neeraj, a man resigned yet still standing, Ketan felt a kinship in their shared plight, but also a foreboding of what was yet to come. His heart ached not just for Neeraj, but for himself, for Ananya, and for what their marriage was becoming under the shadow of Anand and Asif’s games. 


Their somber exchange was interrupted by Manavi, who had overheard their conversation. Dbanging a sheer shawl loosely around her shoulders, barely covering her lingerie, she sauntered over with a plate in her hand. "Oh, sweeties," she cooed mockingly, "it’s all about nature’s choice. Some men are just born leaders, alphas, you know? And others... "Well," she glanced pointedly at their tiny Lullis, "they’re just betas, meant to watch and learn."

Her laugh was sharp, cutting through the low murmur of the room. "Think about it, boys. Nature gave you those tiny cocks for a reason. It’s not a curse, it’s a design. Embrace it," she taunted, her gaze flitting between Ketan and Neeraj’s uncomfortable expressions.

Ketan felt a flush of anger and humiliation but remained silent. Neeraj, however, seemed to find some twisted sense of resignation in her words. 
Ketan’s eyes widened, his heart pounding at the thought. "But that can’t be all there is for us, right? Just because our... our anatomy isn't like theirs," he gestured subtly towards Asif and Anand, who were noticeably more endowed, their semi hard cocks almost twice the size of their deflated Lullis.

"You know…," she began, her eyes flickering with a mischievous spark, "I’ve always had a particular disdain for... well, let’s just call it inadequacy." She paused, allowing the word to hang heavily in the air.

Seeing the puzzled looks on Ketan and Neeraj’s faces, she leaned back, her gaze distant as she delved into her past. "I once had someone, an ex-boyfriend, quite similar to you two," she confessed, her voice tinged with a bitterness that was rarely heard. "He was gentle, loving, the kind of man you’d think you could settle down with. But," her lips curled into a sneer, "he was a beta, through and through. Tiny cock, just like yours, and no spine."
Her laugh was sharp and cold as she continued, "When it came time for him to stand up to his family, to choose me over an arranged marriage they had set up for him, he cowered. Betrayed me because he couldn’t bear to defy them."

Manavi’s eyes darkened with scorn. "So, you see, I learned a valuable lesson from that humiliation. I learned that men like him—and like you," she gestured dismissively towards Ketan and Neeraj, "are only good for one thing: being puppets. You’re not meant to lead or to satisfy. You’re here to watch and learn, to be spectators in your own lives."
She straightened up, her shawl slipping slightly as she fixed them with a predatory smile. "That’s why I enjoy this so much," she admitted, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Watching you squirm, watching you realize your place... It’s thebangutic, in a way. It reminds me that men like my ex, men like you, they never change. They always end up exactly where they belong: under the heel of someone stronger."

Ketan and Neeraj exchanged a glance, the weight of Manavi’s words settling over them like a dark cloud. The room around them seemed to grow colder, the echoes of laughter now sounding hollow. Manavi’s story not only explained her cruelty but also added a layer of complexity to her actions. It was clear now that her disdain was not just casual sadism but a deeply ingrained response to her past wounds.

As Ketan and Neeraj absorbed the shock of Manavi's revelations, she leaned in closer, her voice lowering to almost a whisper, adding a sinister layer to her tale. "You know, Anand had a hand in it too," she confided, her eyes glinting with a mix of pain and mischief. "He... persuaded my ex to embrace his true nature, just like you guys, to see the thrill in submission, fucked his wife and made him a cuck too. Anand played with his mind, made him realize he wasn't cut out for the role of an alpha." Her smile was wry, tinged with a dark nostalgia.
Manavi's hand casually brushed against Ketan’s side, her fingers trailing down to his waistband with a deceptive gentleness before subtly groping his modest bulge. The touch was electric and invasive, making Ketan stiffen uncomfortably. Her voice continued, silky and smooth, "Anand showed him, much like he’s showing you, that some men are meant to serve, to yield... to watch."

Her grip tightened momentarily, a physical punctuation to her words, emphasizing her point with a boldness that left Ketan feeling exposed and vulnerable. "Think of it as a service, a kind of liberation from the pressures of being something you’re not. My ex found peace eventually, in his own way. Maybe you will too."

Releasing her hold, Manavi stepped back, her eyes sweeping over Ketan and Neeraj with a look that was both condemning and oddly compassionate. "Embrace who you are, Ketan, Neeraj. Don't fight it. It's less painful when you accept your place in the natural order," she advised, her tone almost soothing now, as if she was offering them a bitter pill coated in honey.
The mixture of her touch and her words left a complex imprint on Ketan. Her story, intertwined with Anand's manipulative shadow, painted a chilling picture of the power dynamics at play. It wasn't just about physical dominance; it was psychological, a deep-rooted game of chess where they were mere pawns.The conversation was a harsh reminder of their reality. 


Across the room, Anand and Asif were indeed the epitome of what society often celebrated as virile masculinity. Anand’s hand casually dbangd around Simran’s waist, and Asif’s flirtatious whisper into Ananya’s ear only emphasized the stark contrast between them and the cuckold husbands.

As Ketan and Neeraj watched, they could not ignore the evident arousal of their wives, the way their bodies leaned into the touches and laughs shared with the other men. It was a scene that repeated itself in various forms throughout the night, each act a small dagger to their hearts.

Ketan remained silent, his thoughts swirling with doubts and fears. Was this what his life would come to? Watching, waiting, and accepting a role that felt more like a punishment than a choice? The night had peeled back layers of their marriages, revealing truths that were perhaps better left hidden. 

Ketan met Neeraj's gaze, a silent message passing between them—a shared hurt that words could no longer reach, a brotherhood forged in the fires of their humiliation."
As the tension of the conversation reached its peak, the uneasy silence that had settled was suddenly broken by Anand's commanding voice. "Alright, everyone, let's gather around for the next game," he announced, his tone both buoyant and imperious as he clapped his hands, cutting through the heavy atmosphere like a sharp blade. The room, momentarily distracted from their personal crises, turned towards him, the shift in focus palpable.

Ketan, still processing Neeraj's and Manavi’s words, felt a stir of conflicting emotions. As he watched the others reluctantly reassemble, the part of him that recoiled from the unfolding reality warred with a burgeoning, unsettling curiosity. The insights Neeraj had shared—about adapting to and even finding a perverse kind of acceptance in the cuckold role—echoed in his mind, intertwining with his own experiences of the evening.

He found himself oddly detached yet introspective as he stood up to join the group. The idea that there might be some twisted satisfaction to be found in this role gnawed at him, a seductive whisper that was both terrifying and tantalizing. Could he, like Neeraj, find a way to navigate this labyrinth of humiliation and desire? Or was he destined to be consumed by it, another casualty of Anand's cruel games

[Ajay Kailash]

Fantastic update again. The real villain is not Asif or Anand, it is Manavi that facilitates these games. Only thing that confuses is how did Ananya ready to open her legs to Asif like a bitch in heat and that too even before the guilt of doing that with Anand not faded away.

[Givemeextra]

Weak MIND = conquered MIND

This is state of these Hubby's. Looks certain body part's poor size caused the issue in these Hubby's

[Givemeextra]

A good mind game plot - As they say : to the victor goes the spoils.

[Rockket Raja]

Did anyone force you to read these stories here. You can read religious books available in the internet. Each one has different tastes and likes. You dont like a story, just skip it and you have no right to say to stop this unless it violates the forum rules. 

[Betacucky]

Next update soon

[Rockket Raja]

All authors are not looking for positive comments, they are ready to accept the negative comments and correct themselves when they are really sensible. But when you give a comment to block a story just because you did not like it, it is not sensible.  In that case, you have to report to admin to close this forum as it deals mostly with Incest and Adultery stories that are not acceptable by the society. 

Admin will ask, the title clearly says "Xossipy - English Sex Stories" and category is "Adultery" why are you here then. To read, shake your dick and then report it is inappropriate? 

[Paty@123]

Update plz

[xavierrxx]

These wimpy husband deserve all these humiliations. No pity needed. They should be made to father bastard children.

[Paty@123]

Leave the comments ,different people have different opinions, plz continue and give updates plz

[Paty@123]

Plz update