Adultery Wife helps me become a cuckold

[incest_cuck]

"Ari!", my wife cried, her voice pitched slightly higher than usual. "Look who I ran into at the store. This is Tashan, an old friend from college."

Tashan extended a hand, his grip firm as he shook mine. "Nice to meet you, Arijit. Aradhya's told me so much about you."

I forced a smile, acutely aware of how I must look in comparison to this man. Where he was tall and lean, I was short with skinny-fat all over. His beard was artfully groomed, while I hadn't shaved in days. "All good things, I hope.", I joked weakly.

"Of course.", Tashan said with a wink that made something twist in my gut.

As Aradhya busied herself putting away the groceries, I found myself watching her and this mystery man interact. There was an easy familiarity between them, the kind that spoke of shared history. Tashan leaned against our kitchen counter, his height emphasized as he towered over it, telling some story that had my beautiful wife in stitches.

"Remember that time in the campus canteen?", he said, his deep voice filled with laughter. "When Priya spilled her entire plate of chole bhature on Professor Sharma?"

Aradhya gasped with laughter, nearly dropping the carton of eggs she was holding. "Oh gosh, yes! His face was priceless. And poor Priya, she was mortified!"

I stood there, feeling like an outsider in my own home. These stories, this laughter – it was a part of Aradhya's life I'd never been privy to before. And underlying it all was a current of... something. A tension I couldn't quite put my finger on, but it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. As the afternoon wore on, I found myself growing increasingly uncomfortable. It wasn’t just the easy rapport between my wife and this tall handsome mystery man, or the way she seemed to light up in his presence – something I hadn’t witnessed in weeks. It's the little things – the way her hand lingered on his arm when she laughed, the charged looks they exchange when they thought I wasn’t watching.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Tashan announces he should be going. As my wife walked him to the door, I heard their voices drop to whispers. I strained to hear, catching only snippets.

"...good to see you again, Aradhya.", Tashan murmured.

"You too.", she replied, her voice soft. "It's been too long."

There was a pause, and then Tashan said something I couldn't quite catch. Whatever it was, it made my wife laugh – a low, throaty chuckle that sent a shiver down my spine.

When she returned to the kitchen, her cheeks were flushed and there was a sparkle in her eye I hadn't seen in weeks. She busied herself with dinner preparations, humming softly under her breath.

I wanted to ask about Tashan, about their history, but something held me back. The memory of our recent conversations about trust and honesty weighed heavily on my mind. So instead, I said, "He seemed nice. How do you know him again?"

Aradhya paused in her chopping of vegetables, her knife hovering midair for a moment before she resumed. "Oh, just an old friend from college.", she said casually. Too casually. "We had some classes together."

I nodded, not pushing further. But as the evening progressed, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the story. My wife seemed distracted, her mind clearly elsewhere. Several times I caught her checking her phone, a small smile playing on her lips. It's not until we were getting ready for bed that I finally worked up the courage to probe further. As she slips under the covers beside me, I turned to face her.

"So, Tashan.", I began, trying to keep my tone light. "You two seemed pretty close."

She stiffened almost imperceptibly. "Did we?", she asked, her voice carefully neutral.

"Yeah.", I press on. "Lots of inside jokes, shared memories. Must have been more than just a classmate, huh?"

There was a long pause, during which I could almost hear the gears turning in my wife’s head. Finally, she sighed. "Alright, Arijit. If you must know, Tashan and I... we had a thing. Back in college."

The admission sent a jolt through me – part jealousy, part... excitement? Something I personally hadn’t felt in weeks myself. I tried to keep my voice steady as I asked, "Oh? You never mentioned him before."

Aradhya shrugged, not meeting my eye. "Not by name perhaps. It happened a long time ago. We were young, it wasn't serious. Just a fling, really."

But something in her tone informed me that it was more significant than she was letting on. I thought back to the hints Aradhya had dropped over the years about her "wild" college days in Delhi, the stories she'd always been reluctant to share. Now, with Tashan's sudden appearance, those hints took on new meaning.

"Tell me about it.", I found myself saying, my voice low. "About you and Tashan."

Aradhya looked at me sharply, surprise evident in her eyes. "Ari, are you sure? After everything we've been through..."

I nodded, my heart racing. "I'm sure. I want to know."

She took a deep breath, then began narrating. As she talked, painting a picture of her fling with this tall handsome man, I feel a familiar stirring of excitement. The way she described their passionate encounters, the risks they took – it was like our recent experiences with that low-class plumber Harpreet and our landlord Mr. Banerjee. But without the baggage of guilt and fear.

"We met at a college party.", she admitted, her voice soft with remembrance. "He was this tall, handsome senior every girl wanted to talk to, but for some reason, he only had eyes for me."

I listened, enraptured, as my wife described their whirlwind fling. She was vague on the details, but I could read between the lines. Stolen moments between classes, heated encounters at parties, the thrill of secrecy and newfound passion, etc.

"It was intense!", Aradhya exclaimed, her cheeks flushed. "Tashan was... experienced. He taught me a lot about my own body, about pleasure."

As she talked, I couldn't help but compare myself to him. Where he was tall and imposing, I was short and unassuming. Where he was experienced and confident, I'd always been hesitant and unsure. The familiar mix of jealousy and arousal swirled in my gut.

"What happened?", I asked, my voice hoarse. "Why did it end?"

Aradhya's expression turned wistful. "It was never meant to last. We knew that from the start. When the semester ended, so did we. He moved out of Delhi and went back to him home in Haryana, and that was that."

I nodded, processing this information. Part of me wanted to ask more, to delve deeper into the details of their fling. But another part held back, aware of the dangerous territory we're treading.

"Thank you for telling me.", I said finally, reaching out to take my wife's hand. She squeezed it, offering me a small smile.

"Thank you for listening.", she replies. "And for not... judging."

We fell asleep that night with a new understanding between us. But as I drifted off, I couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that there was more to Aradhya and Tashan's story than she was letting on. The way she avoided my gaze when talking about their fling, the slight tremor in her voice – it all pointed to something deeper, something she wasn’t ready to share.

And then there was the matter of her virginity. My wife had always been vague about her first time, deflecting my questions with jokes or changing the subject. Now, I wondered – was Tashan the one? Did he introduce her not just to pleasure, but to sex itself? The thought sent a shiver down my spine, a confusing mix of jealousy and arousal. I imagined her back in her college freshman days, young and inexperienced, in Tashan's arms. His large hands exploring her body, guiding her, teaching her. The sounds she might have made, the look on her face as she experienced that first rush of pleasure...

I shook my head, trying to clear those thoughts. It was dangerous territory, especially given our recent experiences. But as I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't help but wonder what other secrets Aradhya might have been keeping about her past with this tall Adonis.

---

The next few days passed in a haze of normalcy tinged with an undercurrent of tension. My wife went about her usual routine, but there was a new spring in her step, a lightness to her demeanor that I hadn't seen in weeks. I caught her smiling at her phone more often, typing out quick messages when she felt I wasn’t looking.

I wanted to ask if she was texting Tashan, if they were staying in touch, but something held me back. The memory of our recent conversations about trust and boundaries echoed in my mind. So instead, I watched and waited, my imagination running wild with possibilities.

One afternoon, about a week after Tashan's visit, I was working at my desk when I heard Aradhya's phone chime with a message. She was in the shower, so I ignored it at first. But then it chimed again. And again.

Before I could stop myself, I was crossing the room to where her phone was sitting on the coffee table. I knew I shouldn't look, that it's a violation of her privacy. But the temptation was too strong. I picked up the phone, my heart racing as I saw Tashan's name on the screen. The messages were hidden, but I could see the preview:

Tashan: Hey beautiful, thinking about you...

The message cut off, leaving me burning with curiosity and a confusing mix of jealousy and arousal. I quickly put the phone down as I heard the shower turn off, guilt warring with excitement in my chest.

When my wife emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, I tried to act normal. But I couldn’t help but notice the way she immediately checked her phone, a small smile playing on her lips as she read the messages.

"Everything okay?", I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.

She looked up, startled. "Oh, yes.", she said quickly. "Just... work stuff."

I nodded, not calling her out on the obvious lie. Instead, I watched as she disappeared into our bedroom, no doubt to respond to Tashan's messages in private with the veneer of changing.

As the days passed, I found myself increasingly preoccupied with thoughts of Aradhya and Tashan. What were they talking about in those messages? were they reminiscing about old times, or making plans for new encounters? The not knowing is driving me crazy, but I couldn't bring myself to confront my wife about it. Instead, I threw myself into work, trying to distract from the swirling thoughts and emotions. But even as I immersed myself in spreadsheets and reports, a part of my mind was always aware of my wife – where she was, what she was doing, who she might have been talking to.

It's during one of those distracted work sessions that I remembered something I'd been putting off for weeks. With everything that had happened – Harpreet, Mr. Banerjee, and now Tashan – I'd almost forgotten about the fertility test I'd secretly scheduled.