05-12-2024, 04:50 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-09-2025, 01:21 PM by Betacucky. Edited 22 times in total. Edited 22 times in total.)
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
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.
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.
As we cut through one of those crowded lanes near Church Street, a group of half-drunk guys blocked our way. Loud, rowdy types, cigarettes dangling from their lips, the kind who make trouble just for the thrill of it. One of them stumbled forward, his eyes sweeping over me before landing on Anand. 'Oye hero, what’s with the attitude?' he slurred, bumping into my shoulder on purpose. I froze, too stunned to react.
Before I could mumble an apology, Anand stepped in, chest forward, voice low but sharp. 'Watch where you’re going, macha,' he snapped, the words cutting through the night air. The guys laughed, circling us like vultures sensing an easy kill. My throat went dry, heart hammering, every instinct telling me to back away.
Then, in a blur, Anand pulled out a small folding knife from his pocket... steel glinting under the yellow streetlight. The laughter stopped. One guy swore under his breath, another yanked his friend back. 'Leave it, leave it, anna' one of them muttered, and just like that, the pack scattered down the lane, their swagger melting into the shadows.
I stood there, rooted, my palms sweaty. The sight of Anand sliding the knife back into his jeans like it was nothing hit me harder than the rowdies themselves. That’s who he had always been.. reckless, fearless, the kind of guy who thrived on confrontation. And me? I was the one who survived by staying quiet.
Adrenaline still buzzing in my veins, I followed Anand into the pub, the safety of its crowd almost a relief.
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.
Even inside the pub, as the bass thumped and neon lights bounced off the bottles behind the bar, my mind kept circling back to what had just happened outside. I couldn’t help but wonder... how did someone like Anand, the kind of alpha who carried a knife without blinking, still keep someone like me around?
Back in high college, when the guys chose sides, I was always the quiet one in the corner, easy to overlook. But Anand… he always pulled me in, kept me close, like he needed a shadow to prove his shine. Maybe that was it. Maybe I was the reminder of what he wasn’t, the contrast that made his dominance feel sharper.
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. The air was heavy with the stench of beer and disinfectant, the faint echo of bass from the pub floor rattling through the tiled walls. I unzipped slowly, my hands clumsy from the alcohol, eyes fixed on the cracked paint in front of me.
But then, against my own will, my gaze slipped sideways. For just a second, my eyes landed where they shouldn’t have. And there it was. Thick. Dark. Hanging heavy at the edge of Anand's jeans, impossible to ignore.
I froze. My breath hitched. For a second, my body forgot what it was supposed to do. I tried to look away, but the image clung to my mind like it had been burned there. It wasn’t just size. It was the sheer weight of it, the easy confidence of a man who never had to question himself.
Heat flushed through my chest, spreading up into my face. A twinge of something sharp and ugly twisted inside me, envy maybe, or just the familiar ache of knowing what I lacked. My own hand faltered, limp, as if even my body recognized the comparison.
Anand chuckled softly, not at me exactly, but like he had caught the whole moment anyway. The sound was casual, careless, but it carried a power that made my stomach clench tighter. He zipped up with that same effortless ease, like everything about him was made to remind me of the gulf between us.
I stared hard at the wall, fighting to steady my breathing, but my pulse was racing, shame and something darker knotting together until I couldn’t tell one from the other. When he slapped my shoulder on the way out, it felt less like camaraderie and more like a brand, a reminder that I was standing next to a man who lived in a world I would never reach.
Back at the bar on Church , I tried to lose myself in the crowd. The place was buzzing, couples laughing over cocktails, groups of techies knocking back beer, the thump of EDM rolling off the walls. But none of it reached me.
The image from the urinal clung to my head, sharper now in memory than it had been in the moment. My whisky sat in front of me, the ice melting slowly, untouched.
Anand noticed. He always noticed. He leaned back in his chair, one arm resting easy across the backrest, watching me with that knowing smirk. 'What’s wrong with you? You’ve gone quiet all of a sudden.'
I forced a small laugh, shook my head. 'Nothing. Just a little tired.'
He wasn’t convinced. He tilted his glass, eyes narrowing on me. 'Come on, don’t bullshit me. I’ve known you too long for that.'
I shifted, fingers tightening around my drink, still avoiding his eyes. My mind kept circling, but my tongue stayed locked.
Anand leaned forward now, his tone sharper, cutting through the noise around us. 'Talk. What’s going on in your head?'
Still I said nothing. The silence stretched, uncomfortable, until he gave the table a quick tap with his palm, just enough to make me flinch. His eyes held me steady. 'Ketan. I asked you something.'
My throat tightened. The words finally spilled, halting, reluctant, each one heavier than the last. 'I just… I don’t know. It feels like I’m not… enough.' It came out low, hesitant, as if saying it louder would make the shame worse.
I hesitated, my mouth opening and closing before any sound came out. The whisky burned at the back of my throat, but it wasn’t enough to loosen the knot in my chest.
Anand leaned closer, his eyes sharp on me. 'Out with it. What’s this really about?'
I shook my head, muttered, 'It’s… nothing important.'
He gave a short laugh, but there was no humour in it. 'Ketan, you’re sulking like a collegeboy. Just say it.'
The words crawled out, broken, half-swallowed. 'It’s like… I can’t… I don’t give her… what she might need.'
Anand tilted his head, as if testing the weight of my words. 'What do you mean?' he asked, his voice low.
My eyes dropped to the floor. The shame pressed harder. 'With Ananya,' I whispered, the syllables reluctant, 'I don’t think I’m enough for her.' Each word dragged out of me like it cost something, and when the meaning finally landed between us.
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 Ananya's name 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.
If you like the story...please reach out to me at [email protected]m
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.
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.
As we cut through one of those crowded lanes near Church Street, a group of half-drunk guys blocked our way. Loud, rowdy types, cigarettes dangling from their lips, the kind who make trouble just for the thrill of it. One of them stumbled forward, his eyes sweeping over me before landing on Anand. 'Oye hero, what’s with the attitude?' he slurred, bumping into my shoulder on purpose. I froze, too stunned to react.
Before I could mumble an apology, Anand stepped in, chest forward, voice low but sharp. 'Watch where you’re going, macha,' he snapped, the words cutting through the night air. The guys laughed, circling us like vultures sensing an easy kill. My throat went dry, heart hammering, every instinct telling me to back away.
Then, in a blur, Anand pulled out a small folding knife from his pocket... steel glinting under the yellow streetlight. The laughter stopped. One guy swore under his breath, another yanked his friend back. 'Leave it, leave it, anna' one of them muttered, and just like that, the pack scattered down the lane, their swagger melting into the shadows.
I stood there, rooted, my palms sweaty. The sight of Anand sliding the knife back into his jeans like it was nothing hit me harder than the rowdies themselves. That’s who he had always been.. reckless, fearless, the kind of guy who thrived on confrontation. And me? I was the one who survived by staying quiet.
Adrenaline still buzzing in my veins, I followed Anand into the pub, the safety of its crowd almost a relief.
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.
Even inside the pub, as the bass thumped and neon lights bounced off the bottles behind the bar, my mind kept circling back to what had just happened outside. I couldn’t help but wonder... how did someone like Anand, the kind of alpha who carried a knife without blinking, still keep someone like me around?
Back in high college, when the guys chose sides, I was always the quiet one in the corner, easy to overlook. But Anand… he always pulled me in, kept me close, like he needed a shadow to prove his shine. Maybe that was it. Maybe I was the reminder of what he wasn’t, the contrast that made his dominance feel sharper.
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. The air was heavy with the stench of beer and disinfectant, the faint echo of bass from the pub floor rattling through the tiled walls. I unzipped slowly, my hands clumsy from the alcohol, eyes fixed on the cracked paint in front of me.
But then, against my own will, my gaze slipped sideways. For just a second, my eyes landed where they shouldn’t have. And there it was. Thick. Dark. Hanging heavy at the edge of Anand's jeans, impossible to ignore.
I froze. My breath hitched. For a second, my body forgot what it was supposed to do. I tried to look away, but the image clung to my mind like it had been burned there. It wasn’t just size. It was the sheer weight of it, the easy confidence of a man who never had to question himself.
Heat flushed through my chest, spreading up into my face. A twinge of something sharp and ugly twisted inside me, envy maybe, or just the familiar ache of knowing what I lacked. My own hand faltered, limp, as if even my body recognized the comparison.
Anand chuckled softly, not at me exactly, but like he had caught the whole moment anyway. The sound was casual, careless, but it carried a power that made my stomach clench tighter. He zipped up with that same effortless ease, like everything about him was made to remind me of the gulf between us.
I stared hard at the wall, fighting to steady my breathing, but my pulse was racing, shame and something darker knotting together until I couldn’t tell one from the other. When he slapped my shoulder on the way out, it felt less like camaraderie and more like a brand, a reminder that I was standing next to a man who lived in a world I would never reach.
Back at the bar on Church , I tried to lose myself in the crowd. The place was buzzing, couples laughing over cocktails, groups of techies knocking back beer, the thump of EDM rolling off the walls. But none of it reached me.
The image from the urinal clung to my head, sharper now in memory than it had been in the moment. My whisky sat in front of me, the ice melting slowly, untouched.
Anand noticed. He always noticed. He leaned back in his chair, one arm resting easy across the backrest, watching me with that knowing smirk. 'What’s wrong with you? You’ve gone quiet all of a sudden.'
I forced a small laugh, shook my head. 'Nothing. Just a little tired.'
He wasn’t convinced. He tilted his glass, eyes narrowing on me. 'Come on, don’t bullshit me. I’ve known you too long for that.'
I shifted, fingers tightening around my drink, still avoiding his eyes. My mind kept circling, but my tongue stayed locked.
Anand leaned forward now, his tone sharper, cutting through the noise around us. 'Talk. What’s going on in your head?'
Still I said nothing. The silence stretched, uncomfortable, until he gave the table a quick tap with his palm, just enough to make me flinch. His eyes held me steady. 'Ketan. I asked you something.'
My throat tightened. The words finally spilled, halting, reluctant, each one heavier than the last. 'I just… I don’t know. It feels like I’m not… enough.' It came out low, hesitant, as if saying it louder would make the shame worse.
I hesitated, my mouth opening and closing before any sound came out. The whisky burned at the back of my throat, but it wasn’t enough to loosen the knot in my chest.
Anand leaned closer, his eyes sharp on me. 'Out with it. What’s this really about?'
I shook my head, muttered, 'It’s… nothing important.'
He gave a short laugh, but there was no humour in it. 'Ketan, you’re sulking like a collegeboy. Just say it.'
The words crawled out, broken, half-swallowed. 'It’s like… I can’t… I don’t give her… what she might need.'
Anand tilted his head, as if testing the weight of my words. 'What do you mean?' he asked, his voice low.
My eyes dropped to the floor. The shame pressed harder. 'With Ananya,' I whispered, the syllables reluctant, 'I don’t think I’m enough for her.' Each word dragged out of me like it cost something, and when the meaning finally landed between us.
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 Ananya's name 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.
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