Chapter 1

The Unofficial Husband

I sighed and glanced at my watch. Two more hours to kill before I could pick up my hubby from his office and head home.

I was in a movie theater, trying — and failing — to enjoy a brainless action thriller.

I’d taken the day off to meet my college friends. There were four of us back then — horny, lusty girls who bunked classes, pulled outrageous pranks, and indulged in unlimited adventures between the sheets. Only Priya had been the odd one out — shy, orthodox, and a bit of a mystery. Tall, beautiful, and blessed with a fantastic figure, she’d never let her boyfriend go beyond kisses and the occasional boob squeeze.

And yet now, she had transformed into a full-blown sex goddess, with more conquests than the rest of us combined. All of us were married now — only my hubby Raj and Priya’s husband were liberal enough to encourage our wild streaks. The other two friends still had their flings, but behind their husbands’ backs.

We had a great time together that day — laughing, reminiscing, and revisiting our greatest hits: sneaking behind water tanks on the terrace, giving a cock a blank-faced hand job during lectures, or sucking under dining tables in restaurants without anyone catching on. Priya was the star of the show, claiming thousands of cocks under her belt… or more accurately, in her cunt. I shared my own sexcapades, while my other two friends had led relatively tamer lives.

After lunch, we hugged, kissed, and said our goodbyes. Priya left to catch a flight to Canada, the others headed back to their hometowns, and I was left with a few hours to kill.

I wandered into the theater, but after a while, I thought a stroll in the mall might be more fun. Just as I was about to get up, whispers from my right caught my attention. A young man and his girlfriend were locked in a heated argument. They were in the same row, six seats away. In fact, only the three of us were in that row.

Suddenly, the screen brightened — the night scene was over — and I caught an eyeful of his long, thick, beautiful cock. He was trying to coax her into sucking him, but she angrily refused. She got up in a huff, hissed, “Fuck yourself,” and stormed out. I had to pull my seat back to let her pass.

When he looked around, quickly tucking himself back into his jeans and zipping up, I turned my eyes to the screen. He sighed and started walking past me, but this time I didn’t move my knees.

“Excuse me,” he said, expecting me to let him through.

Instead, I gestured for him to sit next to me. “What was that all about?” I asked.

“Even God can’t understand women,” he said in a dejected tone. “She was the one who suggested coming to the movie and having some fun, and then suddenly she flares up and walks out.”

He nearly jumped out of his seat when I asked, “Did she give you blow jobs before? Or were you forcing her?”

“She gave me plenty,” he stammered. “She loves it.”

From the rows ahead and behind, the movie’s audience — masochists who clearly enjoyed the torture being churned out on the screen — shushed us loudly.

I stood up and walked out. He followed. As we exited, I unbuttoned the top two buttons of my shirt. By the time we sat in the empty food court, his eyes were glued to my thunder thighs and ample cleavage. Tennis had given me strong, supple legs, and after my son Ajay was born, I’d bounced back into shape — perhaps even sexier than before, if the hungry stares of men were any proof.

He studied me as I studied him. He had large, liquid eyes framed by lashes any woman would envy, an aquiline nose, and lips made for sin. I couldn’t imagine why his girlfriend had walked away. He was courteous and gentlemanly, even when I was blatantly flaunting my assets — aroused, but never crossing the line.

In the mirror behind him, I caught my own reflection. Boys had swarmed me since pre-school, and I had relished it. With my glowing, marble-like complexion — and lips always ripe for kissing, I’d driven male hormones into a frenzy.

Tennis had sculpted my thighs and legs, and while Priya swore they were my best feature, men were divided: some worshipped my boobs and nipples, others my smile, my eyes, even my deep navel, “like a chalice,” one lover once said. My husband Raj insisted my sexiest part was my mind — the thing that kept my cunt (and other parts) tirelessly active.

He brought us coffee and snacks. As we sipped, I placed my hand over his. A spark shot through him — his cock gave a telling twitch.

I smiled seductively. “Don’t worry. Tomorrow your girlfriend will say sorry, and you’ll make up.”

“What about now?” he said with a sad smile. “I’m so horny… so hard.”

I glanced at my watch. “We still have forty-five minutes. Come on.”

No one was around as I led him quietly to the restroom for the handicapped. It was spacious. We kissed hungrily, my panties already soaked. He tore at my shirt as I stripped with impatient hands. I stepped out of my jeans, and he was already bare from the waist down.

I eased him onto the closed toilet cover, his thick, long cock standing tall, pointing to the ceiling with its single, eager eye. I straddled him and, with a slow, deliberate slide, let my wet cunt swallow his hot, throbbing shaft. He moaned softly as he filled me completely, one hand rising instinctively to grab my tit and suck. His eyes widened when his mouth was greeted with unexpected warmth.

“That’s a bonus for you,” I teased, smiling wickedly.

I began to ride him hard and fast, putting all my skill into it. Over the years, I’d mastered the art of cunt muscle control — the way I could milk a cock was almost agricultural, like drawing milk from a cow’s teat — tightening, pulling, and releasing in delicious rhythm.

Even I struggled to keep my moans in check, so he stuffed my panty into my mouth to muffle the sound. He kept sucking greedily and thrusting upward, our bodies locked in a perfect, frantic rhythm. Time blurred until I glanced at my watch.

“My god, we have only ten minutes left. You have to cum,” I said, pulling the panty from my mouth.

“In this position, I can’t cum so soon,” he admitted, then made me bend over the washbasin stand. In one swift, wet stroke, he buried his cock — glistening with my juices — deep inside me. I gasped involuntarily.

Then he fucked me fast, hard, relentless — each thrust forcing air from my lungs, my feet lifting clear off the ground. His hands gripped my waist like steel as he pounded harder… harder… but still couldn’t finish.

I reached into my bag of tricks. Cupping his balls, I applied the gentlest, most precise pressure — the kind that takes years to perfect. Like acupressure, done right, it can break the dam. And it did. With a shudder, he filled my cunt with a hot, generous flood.

I wiped myself with paper, flushed it, straightened my clothes, fixed my hair, and stepped out. He followed a few minutes later.

Just in time — people began streaming out of the theater. We walked in silence, my cunt still glowing, his cock surely still twitching. The session was good, but I wanted another two hours of him inside me. He clearly felt the same, but hesitated to push his luck. At my car, we hugged; he thanked me earnestly.

As I unlocked the door, I paused. “Do you have any place?”

His face lit up like a thousand-watt bulb. “Yes. My uncle’s house. He’s out of town. I have the key, but it’s about an hour’s drive.”

“Hop in,” I said, and called Raj.

He answered on the first ring. “Honey, give me fifteen minutes. I’ll square up and come down.”

“Darling,” I said sweetly, “we fucked in the restroom. But I want a longer session with him. He’s got keys to his uncle’s house. Can you handle the kid? I’ll be home late.”

Raj didn’t even pause. “Sure, darling. Enjoy. If it’s too late, stay over. Don’t drive at night.”

We were lucky with our neighbor, Radha aunty — she adored my son Ajay, and he adored her right back. She pampered him endlessly and didn’t mind keeping him for hours.

My heart swelled. What had I done to deserve a husband like this?

“Love you, darling. Muuaahhhh. I’ll keep in touch,” I told him.

In the early days, Raj worried when I went to fuck parties or met strangers. Later, he admitted he trusted my judgment of men and my ability to protect myself.

As I buckled my seat belt, the young man asked, “Shouldn’t we introduce ourselves?”

I burst out laughing. Here we were, strangers by name but intimate in the most carnal sense.

“I’m Ishika,” I said, shaking his hand. “Married. Two-year-old son.”

“I’m Jayesh,” he smiled. “Almost twenty. B.Tech, second year. Hostel.”

The drive was long, but charged. In traffic, he sat politely. On open roads, his hands roamed — under my shirt, teasing my nipples, between my thighs, fingering me. My jeans unzipped, my panty long gone, I stroked his cock in return.

By the time we reached his uncle’s house, I was drenched, and he was nearly trembling. The moment we stepped inside, he pounced like a starving tiger, and I met him like a bitch in heat. He ripped my shirt instead of unbuttoning, yanked off my jeans, and tossed me onto the settee.

I unbuckled and pulled down his pants while he stripped off his shirt. We fucked like animals — raw, urgent, unrestrained. He was deliciously rough, squeezing and pinching my nipples, pounding my cunt like a sledgehammer. We shifted from missionary to doggy to me riding him, the pace never faltering. My moans and screams mingled with the loud, pistol-shot slaps of our crotches.

In doggy, he slapped my buttocks hard; later, he told me the ripe, tomato-red welts drove him wild with excitement.

I had a quick shower and, over dinner, I told Raj every detail—how it started, how he fucked, everything.  I was like a small girl who had just returned from Disneyland, pouring out every thrilling moment to her best friend. Raj listened raptly, eyes shining, as excited as I was. By the time I finished, he was already super horny and fucked me wildly.

As we lay on the bed afterwards, hugging, kissing, and looking into each other’s eyes, he said quietly, “You are in love with him.”

There was no jealousy or anger in his voice—just a simple, matter-of-fact statement.

I blushed. Me—the conqueror of all the cocks I desired, the queen of a vast sexual kingdom—actually blushed. I think the last time I did that was when Raj proposed to me.

I recovered quickly and said, “You always said you wished there was one more man who loved me as much as you do, and that I could love him just as much. You even dreamed of both of you fucking me at the same time.”

Raj smiled. “Yes, darling. I think Jayesh fits the bill.”

I cupped his face in both hands, looked into his eyes, and said, “Darling, let us meet him. If you have even a single bad vibe about him, we’ll drop it.”

I basked in his love, melted into his warm hug, and drifted off to sleep.

The Meeting

Jayesh was waiting excitedly for me at the restaurant. The place had cubicles with four chairs, a table, and a curtain for privacy—broken only when a waiter entered, and even that could be prevented with a discreet tip.
Raj had booked one for us.

I parted the curtain and stepped in. Jayesh jumped up with a big smile, rushed to me, and hugged me. Genuine love and joy lit his face.

I wore a sleeveless top and a skirt—without a panty. His hand went straight to my boob, cupping it, while the other squeezed my buttock. When he realized I wasn’t wearing a panty, his hard cock gave two eager kicks.
Then, suddenly, he stepped back and said, “I have a surprise for you,” before presenting a bouquet of beautiful roses.

I smiled. “I also have a surprise for you. Meet my husband, Raj.”

I pulled the curtain aside, and Raj stepped in.

The blood drained from Jayesh’s face. He gulped, visibly panicked.

“I’m sorry, Raj… it’s hard to explain. It’s not Ishika’s fault, I suggested—”

Raj simply smiled, extended his hand, and said, “Relax, Jayesh. Sit down and we’ll talk over drinks.”

Jayesh sat nervously on the edge of his seat. I slid in beside him, took his hand in mine, pressing and patting to reassure him. But he kept his gaze fixed on the tablecloth, his cock now not only deflated but probably shrunk. Raj’s imposing presence—muscles, height, and confidence—was enough to rattle any man.

Sensing this, I decided to disappear for a while so the ice could break. I announced that I was heading to the restroom, then strolled a few streets before returning ten minutes later.

My heart pounded as I parted the curtain. Would they be awkward, glued to their phones? Or… Relief washed over me—they were laughing at something Raj had said, clearly hitting it off.

The drinks and snacks had already arrived. They were chatting about Jayesh’s college pranks, cricket, and other light topics. They barely noticed me walk in.

“What were you talking about?” I asked.

Jayesh replied, “College, cricket… and a little bit of politics.”

I gave him a mock-angry glare. “That’s all? You didn’t talk about me?”

His face flushed beetroot red, fumbling for words.

Raj laughed. “He only talked about you—and nothing else. How kind you are, how beautiful and sexy, how intelligent… every adjective in the book. I think he’s in love with you. When we heard you coming, he changed the subject.”

Overjoyed, I hugged Jayesh and kissed him full on the lips. “Hmm, kiss me hard,” I whispered, guiding his hands to my boobs.

Jayesh hesitated. “Ishika, please… Raj is watching us.”

I turned to Raj. “Darling, do you mind terribly if Jayesh kisses me and plays with my boobs?”

Raj smiled. “Jayesh, there are no secrets between us. She’s told me everything. I’m happiest when Ishika’s happy—so go ahead. Enjoy her. I’ll enjoy my drink.”

Jayesh relaxed, kissed me deeply, and squeezed my breasts. I rubbed his cock over his pants, feeling his heat and hardness. Clearly, he wasn’t wearing underwear.

We kissed for a few minutes before Raj raised his glass. “I’d like to make a toast—then you can carry on.”

We all raised our glasses. “To the newfound love between my darling wife Ishika and Jayesh. May it bloom forever.”

After sipping, Jayesh grew bolder, fondling my tit while chatting casually with Raj. Milk drops began to form again, and Jayesh asked cheekily, “Raj, is booze and milk compatible? Can I drink milk after my whisky, or will Ishika’s bra get all wet?”

We all laughed. I unbuttoned my shirt, lifted my bra, and pushed one breast into Jayesh’s mouth. He drained his whisky in one gulp before latching on eagerly.

Raj and I continued talking as if we were just any couple enjoying a restaurant meal. The eroticism of it thrilled us both.

The aged waiter came in, set the snacks down, and left without a word—clearly used to seeing all kinds of things. Jayesh, however, seemed rattled and excused himself to the restroom.

While he was gone, I adjusted my bra and asked Raj, “What’s your gut feeling? Can he be trusted? Can he love without becoming possessive?”

Raj kissed me across the table. “An emphatic yes. He’s the one I’ve been waiting for. After he comes back, I’ll step out, tell him he has my blessing, and that he can be as free as if you two were alone.”

When Jayesh returned, he found Raj and me locked in a passionate kiss. I pushed Raj away and teased, “Go get some fresh air—your whisky breath is strong.” Raj grinned, patted Jayesh’s shoulder, whispered something in Marathi, and left.

I asked Jayesh what Raj had said. He laughed, pulled out his cock, rubbed it on my lips, and replied, “He told me not to cum until he comes back. Your challenge is to make me cum before he returns.”

I laughed—it was just the kind of playful twist Raj loved. As I licked his shaft and took him in my mouth, I wondered—was Raj rooting for me or Jayesh?

From other cubicles came shrieks, groans, and moans. Jayesh slid his hands under my shirt, pinching my nipples. I deliberately gave him a “regular” blowjob—none of my secret tricks—so he’d have a fighting chance.

Ten minutes later, Raj returned, smiling approvingly. “Jayesh, you’ve passed the test. Resisting Ishika’s mouth for ten minutes shows real control. Now, let’s finish our drinks and have dinner.”

I reminded Raj, “One of us has to drive.”

Raj grinned. “Don’t worry. That trip to the restroom? I found us a driver—an old friend who’s also fucked Ishika and knows about us.”

Jayesh, now completely relaxed, began openly fingering me under the table, describing to Raj how wet I was. Raj encouraged him to tease my clit. I was helpless, dripping, as Jayesh licked his fingers and declared, “Yummy.”

The waiter returned for our food order, briefly interrupting us. We covered Jayesh with the tablecloth, though my hand movements must have been obvious.

During dinner, Jayesh spoke hesitantly. “I fell in love with Ishika the moment I saw her in the theater. I knew she was older and married… and when her milk flowed into my mouth, I realized my love had no chance. Then we had that mind-blowing fuck… every minute my love for her grew. I left my number, not expecting a call. And now… here we are. I’m still wondering if I’m dreaming.”

I squeezed his balls hard until he nearly yelped.

“What are you doing?” he gasped.

“Just making sure you know this isn’t a dream,” I grinned.

Raj chuckled. “Jayesh, I love Ishika so deeply that I feel guilty I can’t give her love 24×7. She needs to be pampered, loved, and fucked without limit. Most men are selfish and unworthy—but yesterday, I saw the same glow in her eyes that I saw when I proposed to her. Today, I’ve seen it in yours. So, welcome to our home… as Ishika’s unofficial husband.”

Jayesh’s eyes grew moist. He hugged Raj, then me.

As we drove back, Jayesh sat close beside me, his arm wrapped warmly around my shoulders. There was a quiet happiness between us — the kind that comes when words aren’t needed.

When we reached home, we straightened our clothes, and I brushed my hair quickly. Jayesh followed us a few steps behind as I unlocked the apartment door.

Raj paused to knock on Radha aunty’s door, and she welcomed him with her usual cheerful smile. We overheard her saying what a pleasure it had been to look after Ajay, calling him “such an adorable kid.”

Raj laughed and teased, “If you love him this much, maybe we’ll leave him with you for a few days — then you’ll discover his naughty side.”

Radha aunty chuckled and replied that she’d be happy to take care of him anytime.

After wishing her good night, I took Ajay into my arms, kissed him gently, and tucked him into his small bed. He stirred for a moment, then settled back into peaceful sleep.

Later that night, the three of us shared an unspoken closeness — a sense of belonging, affection, and deep connection. We talked softly, exchanged smiles, and basked in the comfort of each other’s presence. I felt completely at ease, cherished by two people who truly cared for me.

Eventually, we drifted off to sleep, with me in the middle, resting contentedly between the two most loving and protective companions I could ask for.

Then, the world changed — the pandemic began. But for us, working from home turned out to be a blessing, giving us more time together and deepening the bonds we had already formed.

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