05-12-2024, 04:50 PM
(This post was last modified: 21-12-2024, 10:58 PM by Betacucky. Edited 14 times in total. Edited 14 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.
[img]![[Image: 544205491_img_1509.png]](https://t100.pixhost.to/thumbs/966/544205491_img_1509.png)
[/img]
Ketan
[img]![[Image: 544205488_img_1507.jpg]](https://t100.pixhost.to/thumbs/966/544205488_img_1507.jpg)
[/img]
Ananya
![[Image: 544205489_img_1508.jpg]](https://t100.pixhost.to/thumbs/966/544205489_img_1508.jpg)
Anand
[img]![[Image: 544205499_img_1514.jpg]](https://t100.pixhost.to/thumbs/966/544205499_img_1514.jpg)
[/img]
Manavi
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.
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.
[img]
![[Image: 544205491_img_1509.png]](https://pixhost.to/show/966/544205491_img_1509.png)
[/img]Ketan
[img]
![[Image: 544205488_img_1507.jpg]](https://pixhost.to/show/966/544205488_img_1507.jpg)
[/img]Ananya
![[Image: 544205489_img_1508.jpg]](https://pixhost.to/show/966/544205489_img_1508.jpg)
Anand
[img]
![[Image: 544205499_img_1514.jpg]](https://pixhost.to/show/966/544205499_img_1514.jpg)
[/img]Manavi
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.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)