Misc. Erotica Vikram's Porn Addiction comes true

[Mohit.Kumar]

Some days later, as Vikram sits in his favorite café, sipping his chai and scrolling through his phone, it buzzes to life in his pocket. He pulls it out, expecting another mundane message from work, but instead, he sees a name that makes his heart race: Gagan, his college buddy. The message reads, "Hey, that looks like Chaitali." He freezes, the chai scalding his tongue. Chaitali? The girl from his fantasies, the one whose face had haunted his every waking moment since that fateful night?

He tries to play it cool, his thumbs hovering over the screen. "Who's Chaitali?" he types back, feigning ignorance. His mind races with the possibility that Gagan had recognized the woman from the porn video. The lie feels heavy on his chest, but he needs to keep the truth buried deep.

The phone vibrates again. "The receptionist at our college. You know, the woman with the big... assets?"

Vikram's mind reels back to the dusty corridors of his alma mater, the cacophony of teenage voices, and the figure of Chaitali, the woman who had always greeted him with a smile that hinted at something more. The one with the hips that swayed like a Bollywood heroine and the breasts that seemed to whisper secrets of the flesh. He swallows hard, his hand trembling as he sets his chai down. "Chaitali?" The name feels like a hot brand on his tongue.

He opens the message again, staring at the screen as if it will reveal the hidden truth. The images of the woman in the video swirl through his mind, a kaleidoscope of lust and familial warmth. Could it be? Was it really her? The way she moaned, the way she moved, it was all too similar. The room seems to tilt, and he grips the edge of the table to steady himself.

With trembling fingers, he types out his response. "Do you have any contact for her?" The words hang in the digital ether, a silent confession of his desperate curiosity. He hits send and watches the message bubble vanish into the abyss, his heart racing in anticipation.

Gagan's reply is swift. "Why do you ask?"

Vikram's mind is racing. He needs to think fast. He can't let his friends know the truth, not yet. "Just wanna catch up," he types, his heart thudding like a drum. "It's been ages since we talked about old times. Remember the crushes?"

Gagan's response is immediate, his suspicion piqued. "Ah, yes, the good ol' days. But why Chaitali? Something on your mind?"

Vikram's throat tightens, and he takes a deep breath to steady himself. "Just curious, man. She was always so... friendly." His voice trails off as he tries to keep his cool, the memory of her curves and the sound of her moans echoing in his mind.

Gagan's response is a smirking emoji followed by a knowing wink. "Ah, I see. Nostalgia can be a powerful thing. I'll see what I can do." The conversation lingers, the unspoken tension hanging in the air like a thick fog.

Days stretch into an eternity for Vikram, his mind consumed by the mystery woman from the porn video. He finds himself in a perpetual state of arousal, unable to shake the feeling that he's on the cusp of a revelation that could either shatter his world or fulfill his darkest desires.

The café's chai grows cold and forgotten beside him as he ponders over the name Gagan had mentioned—Chaitali. He recalls the way she'd greet him with a knowing smile at college, her eyes always lingering a beat too long, hinting at a secret that only the two of them shared. It was a silent promise of something more, a spark that had remained dormant within him until it had been rekindled by the woman on the screen.

He couldn't help but replay the porn scene in his head, her cries of "Aditya" echoing through his mind like a siren's call. The way she'd take it, so willingly, so wantonly, her body moving in perfect harmony with the man behind her—it was as if she was made for this, made to be watched. The thought sends a shiver down his spine, his cock stirring back to life in his pants.

The wait for Gagan's response feels like an eternity, the anticipation building like a dam about to burst. And then, finally, it arrives. A LinkedIn profile, with a name that seems to burn itself into his retina: Chaitali Ghosh. The same name that had been whispered through the hallowed halls of his college, the same name that had been the subject of countless locker room fantasies.

Vikram's hands shake as he clicks the link, his heart thudding in his chest. The profile picture that loads is of a woman with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with life. She's dressed modestly, but there's something about the way she holds herself, something that screams of hidden desires and unspoken allure. It's her, the woman from the video, the woman whose body had writhed with pleasure under the relentless pounding of a stranger's cock.

He reads through her profile, his eyes devouring every detail. Chaitali Ghosh, receptionist at their old college, had moved on to become an Training Manager at a nearby corporate training firm. She had a degree in business administration and was married. The word "married" hits him like a sledgehammer, but the thrill doesn't diminish. If anything, it amplifies it.

With trembling hands, he sends her a connection request, his heart pounding as he waits for her to accept. The minutes feel like hours, each tick of the clock echoing in his ears like a drumroll. .

But no reply.

The silence from Chaitali is deafening. Each tick of the clock echoes through the void, a stark reminder of his own audacity. He's sent a friend request to the woman who's become the center of his most depraved fantasies, the woman whose face had been a silent participant in his darkest moments. The weight of his own indecency presses down on him, suffocating him with every breath he takes.

He tries to distract himself, scrolling through the mundane updates of his other connections. But it's no use. Her profile looms over him, a digital specter that refuses to be ignored. He's seen her in the throes of passion, her body moving in a symphony of wantonness, and now she's just a name on a screen, untouchable and unresponsive.

With a sudden jolt of determination, Vikram decides he can't wait for her to respond. He needs to see her in person, to confirm that it's truly her. He needs to hear her voice, to smell her perfume, to feel the heat of her body. Taking matters into his own hands, he dresses in his best suit, a costume of respectability that feels like a second skin. He checks himself in the mirror, smoothing out any wrinkles, adjusting his tie, and practicing his most charming smile.