All the characters appearing in this story are 18+
Anish
So tell me about this cousin of yours, She said.
We were on our way towards Angamaly, a small town near the Kerala backwaters. Aditi and I had been married for 6 months now, and as per tradition, we had to go to our ancestral home and take blessings of our grandma. 6 months, I thought to myself. Time really flies when you marry the person you love, I mused as I glimpsed towards her from the corner of my eyes. She was still figuring out how to connect her mobile to the stereo. Looking at her saree draped shoulder I wondered how we got here. Honestly, my life has been nothing but series of joyful events ever since we got married, and why shouldn’t it be? I had pursued her for over 3 years, and finally, when I had almost given up on her, she said that she’d like to be my wife. I still recall my dance, if you can call that, when she told me the news. After that it was a whirlwind affair. Convincing our parents, planning the wedding, then honeymoon in the secluded cabin near Austrian Alps. There was hardly a day which we didn’t spend with each other. Bliss, that’s the only word that comes to my mind when I look at her. Her brown, warm eyes, friendly smile, wisp of jet black hairs swaying around the corner of her eyes, the way her fingers play with the nape of her neck; I love everything about her. And not just looks, she’s got the brains too. She’s currently working on her thesis, and in a year or two, she will be adding the prefix Dr. to her name. Dr Aditi; words involuntarily escaped my mouth as I looked at her. She smiled, knowingly. Time and again, she had thanked me for being so supportive of her career, but truth be told, I love her so much that I’d cater to her every whim. I’m smitten, I thought to myself and felt warm inside. The girl is smitten with me too.
So? Tell me about him, she chided me again. If there was one tiny aspect of this bliss that felt tempered, it was her talks about my cousin, Raman. I’m not sure I can call them talks even. A nudge, a query, a wayward question, if you will. But I felt something amiss. You see, during our wedding prep, Aditi had encountered Raman. Twice, to be precise. She must’ve mentioned him 5 times since then. Yes , I kept a count. He was a great guy, and my most favorite cousin, but somehow I felt very insecure when our discussions shifted to him. And I guess she knew it too. But why would she make me feel insecure if she knew? I must be imagining things because of my history with Raman, I reasoned with myself.
Ah, the history. You see, Raman and I were very close growing up. He showed me my first porn clip, I confined in him about my first girlfriend, I even had my first drink with him, right after the break-up. He was very popular with the fairer sex. The art of seduction was something he was very skilled in. And he loved reminding me about it. He used to always joke about how he was going to fuck my wife, and I would playfully dodge these remarks, saying I would fuck your wife first. But this was all part of guy talk. We were so close to each other, that we didn’t feel uncomfortable talking this stuff. And we knew this was just talking, I trusted him enough. But when I saw how he was looking at Aditi during the wedding, I knew that he would’ve fucked her brains out right there on the altar if she let him. And if I didn’t knew and trusted her, I might have thought that she was going to let him.
The first time Aditi met Raman, we were distributing the wedding invitations. From the minute he laid his eyes on her, Raman had this primal look in his eyes. Almost like he was sizing up his prey. He had this skill of making people feel comfortable, at ease, and Aditi too felt for his charm. Again, this is a conjecture on my part, but I have this sense that had she not been engaged with me, something might have occurred between the two of them. The way they talked, how Raman touched her hand while taking a look at her ring, how she patted his thigh when Raman cracked a joke at my expense, it felt like I
was an outsider and those two had this amazing bubble surrounding them. And thus begun my insecurity regarding them. Next time they met, she was standing besides me on the altar. Remember, he’s not had sex since he was 17, so he has a lot to make up for, he said to her. And she laughed! How can she laugh at this crass humor? Aditi, my Aditi; who reads Shelby and Keats, who quotes Joyce and Nabokov; who listens to the Chopin in the car, laughing at the crude humor of Raman, whose education never moved ahead after 12th. She must like him, right?
And today we were visiting his home, and my insecurities were flaring up. See, I know you might think that I am an obsessive husband who feels like his wife is cheating on him because of his own insecurities; but I’m really not like that. I never feel this way when she hangs around with my friends, or hers, for that matter. But there’s this feeling I keep getting that she knows Raman lusts after her, and on some level she enjoys it. I mean, if you looked at her saree, you’d think the same.
The saree! I had gifted it to her during the wedding, and today was the first time she decided to wear it. It was art, this saree. Crafted by karigars in Jaipur, the silken coalescence of red and gold, she looked as if she was draped in liquid. She always looks great in a saree, but rarely wears then. It is a task to carry them, she says. But this saree was on a whole another level. It hug all her curves in the right places, and she felt like she had walked off of some alternate universe made of all things pristine. And that blouse! The sheer red, almost backless blouse! She had to ditch her usual bra and go for a stick-on bra for it. But it encased her breasts like nothing else. The bra didn’t hide the sideboob, or their contours. The pallu had to do it, she had said earlier. Her mole, situated almost at the right edge of her back, one which I used to nibble at during our usual romps, was out on display now, and I felt like she was sharing our intimacy itself. And for who, Raman?
You’ll meet him soon, you will get to know him better then, I said, hoping she doesn’t sense my insecurities. The ride was silent afterwards. Symphony 9 filled the car as we glided through the paddy fields and lakefronts. The charm of Kerala, green fields and lakes, it can keep your eyes busy for hours. The road was in excellent condition, and the Volvo felt as if it was flying over it. Soon enough we entered the gates and were welcomed by our family.
Aditi
I know what you think of me. A promiscuous woman. A woman who is consumed by lust, commanded by her bodily desires, unfaithful to her marriage, to the commitment it demands. And I agree. I am risking my reputation by narrating my side of the story. Just as I’m risking my marriage with Anish. Don’t get me wrong, I love Anish. He’s a devoted husband, and even before the marriage, he was a devoted lover. I don’t know what I have done to deserve him, or his love, but I am grateful to have him in my life. And I respect him for the love that he bestows upon me, day after day. It’s not an easy thing to do. But do I love him?
What is love? Is it the comfortable feeling that you get when you are with each other? Or the calm you feel when you are in his company? Or the bliss you feel in the morning when you wake up and feel his eyes admiring you? If so, yes, I do love Anish. But shouldn’t that be enough? I mean, if that is love, then why would I have this vile, rotten urge to sleep with Raman? Why would I imagine myself in his arms? Why would I imagine him thrusting his manhood inside of me , on the same bed that my husband and I consummated our marriage? And if I loved Anish, why would I want him to know about my desire for Raman, knowing fully well that he will be hurt?
I’ll try to explain it better. You see, the love Anish has for me, it is puppy love. No matter how much I hurt him, he will never hate me. I know that for a fact. And I do respect that. But you know what it is like to have someone devoted to you? You feel a sense of nag, an irritation after a while. It gets boring, predictable, and the thrill; the butterflies that accompany the romance flutter away. You wonder if he’ll love you the same even after you hurt him. And that itch, to know when he’ll break and his love-glazed eye would see through your intentions – that is one itch that I’ve managed well over these courtship of his. For two years, he was at my beck and call. But I never leeched off of him. You can and you will think of me as cruel, but don’t think of me as a leech, for I am not one. And when I realized that he was the best prospect I had for marriage, I said yes to him. And I promised myself that I’ll be his faithful, loving wife. And up until now, I have not deterred. But I don’t know if I want to keep it anymore. Or if I’ll be even able to .
I’ll admit, the first time I met Raman, I liked him. But that was it. There was no animal lust, there was no love at first sight, no spark in my loins. That changed after Raman told me about his vow to fuck Anish’s wife, me. I should’ve been offended right? Isn’t that how a devoted wife, a woman in love would behave? But it fueled something deep inside of me, and I keep listening to him with intrigue. Anish had told me that this was the cousin he was closest with, and here he was; talking about how he had once vowed before Anish that he would bait and snare his woman, enchant her with his charm, and make him watch as she scream out his name in throes of passion. And that would have been it, that would have been the last interaction between Raman and I, for I had decided to tell Anish what he said, and show him who his cousin really is. But then Raman said something that changed everything. I don’t want to make love to you, I want to fuck you. Till your toes curl, your face turns red, and your screams fill the room; and I want Anish to watch you beg for more.
How could he say that to me? Did he not respect me at all? Or did he think I am just a piece of meat that he’ll easily claim? Initially I was taken aback by his brazenness, angered even; but after a few days all that remained with me were his words, and the memory of how he grazed his hand against my left breast as he helped me get into the car.
Ever since Raman said that to me, the only thing I’ve thought about is how Anish would react to my screams of passion. What is the most a man can do for the woman he loves? Sure, he might set fire to the earth, scorch it for eternity with his desire, but will he be able to listen to his love screaming out someone else’s name? Would he be disgusted? Would he be sad? Would he seethe in anger? Would his head bow in shame? Or would he still love me, Aditi; the apple of his eyes as he lovingly puts it, and hold her hand, as she is getting pounded by the guy who had warned him that this will happen one day? That is the only thing I keep thinking about, and with each passing day, I’ve come nearer to the conclusion- I’ll have to make it happen, or I’ll never know.
I know what Anish thinks about Raman and I – and he is right. I am doing this deliberately. I know he’s insecure about his cousin, and yet I ask him about Raman, just to watch him squirm. And I make sure to ask about him at the most inappropriate times. Once, right after the sex, panting from the ordeal I asked him if Raman had a love marriage or an arranged one, and boy did he squirm. You could see his confusion- why is his wife, still leaking his cum out of her vagina talking about Raman? But he loves me, and trusts me, so he replied, without showing his frustration, and all it did was fuel the desire inside of me to hurt him more. Talk about twisted.
So today I’m dressed like a bride, knowing fully well how Anish feels, even though he doesn’t show it on his face. I wore the exact lingerie that I had worn for our wedding. Anish must’ve realized that I was eager to be devoured by Raman, to take in everything that he has to offer. I had chosen the saree he had gifted me, and the sheerest blouse I could find. I marveled at how Anish was able to keep his hands to himself, and at the same time, I was ready to fend him off if he had tried to get me in the mood. Today was Raman’s day, and Anish would just have to sit on the fence and watch us. I know this will hurt him. But now it is too late. The die was cast the day I had met Raman.
Anish
The car glides over the road, lights carving the way through the darkness that engulfs us. I’m still at loss for words. Yes, I am torn, upset, angry even. I want to yell at her, slap her across the face, end this marriage, get away from her. How can she do this to me? And how can she smile and kiss me after what I have witnessed? Was it even real? Or was it just a figment of my imagination? Is my brain conjuring these lucid views? Or did I just caught my wife getting her tits sucked by Raman?
When I heard the door shut, I thought it must be due to the wind. But soon, the window pane turned red, as if someone was pressing red cloth against it. And then I heard her unmistakable giggle. What was she doing with Raman? Why are they enclosed in a room together? I felt tormented by the questions that popped up in my head. Surely that can’t be it. Aditi loves me, and I love her. Why would she need to get in a room with Raman, even for a chat; a degenerate who thinks with his cock? Hoping that my imagination has ran amok, and they are probably just gossiping about family with each other, I glanced through the gap and instantly wish I hadn’t.
There she was, the love of my life, my prized possession, my only solace in this world, holding his head in her hand. Her eyes were closed, she had this smile across her face; the same smile she wears when I kiss her goodbye, or when I wake her up from deep slumber. And here she was, treating Raman with the same smile. Her blouse undone, the nape of her neck red, her hair streaking across her sweaty forehead, and her mangalsutra dangling between her orbs. And there he was, Raman, one hand over the left tit, squeezing, kneading, mauling it with a ravenous vigor, his other hand pinned her left hand to the wall. Then a shriek pierced the thick of the room. He was latched to her right tit. Was he biting her nipple? Why was she letting him do this? Is she enjoying this? Being treated like a slut? She must be, because the biting didn’t stop, and her moans got louder. And for a moment, her eyes opened. And she saw me.
My heart broke when I saw her. And it broke a thousand times over when she saw me and smiled. She didn’t flinch, she didn’t stop, she didn’t look guilty, she didn’t push him away. And I realized that she wanted this to happen. She wanted to break my heart. Here I stood, a guy who worshipped this gorgeous woman, and there she was; letting the guy I despise suck on her magnificent breasts, which were now riddled with marks from her lovers’ assault. And with every second that she held the eye contact, I could feel my eyes tearing up. My heart started beating louder, so much so that I was afraid he could hear it. But no, he was too engrossed in the act. Without breaking the eye contact, she tried to push his head away from her breast, which he had latched upon. But he wasn’t willing to let go, and as she felt his teeth pulling at her nipple, she let out a scream due to the pain. But she didn’t bat an eyelid. And I realized, she was not mine. At least not mine alone. Dejected, I looked at the floor, and turned away from the room.
Shouldn’t I have created a scene? Shouldn’t I have slapped Raman? Or at least shouted at him? Abused him? As I asked this questions to myself I realized that I knew why I hadn’t. Aditi wanted this too, or else she wouldn’t have allowed this. She wanted to feed her tits to the guy that I hated, yes I hated Raman now; and I hated him even more knowing that my wife just risked her marriage in a bid to have a romp with him. She placed him, this lust she has for him; above our sacred vows. That she, the woman who made me wait for two whole years to let me touch her, had thrown herself at Raman in mere 3 encounters. And all while knowing fully well that she would hurt me in the process.
I glanced at her. She was looking outside the window. Her hand was near the gear, I wanted to caress it. Even in the faint light entering the cabin, I could see the bite marks her neck bore. Suddenly, her hand went to the mark, and she moved her fingers across the mark. She was still gazing out of the window, into the darkness. A smile broke on her face, and I felt as if a thousand needles have been inserted in my heart, for I knew she was thinking about him. In a span of 2 hours, my blissful world has turned into a nightmare.
Do I hate her though? When she came back from the room, she kissed me, and I couldn’t help but kiss her back. She was conquered, defiled by her lover, she bore marks of love making over her neck, her breathing was paced, lipstick spoiled, and her forehead was sweaty. Her bra was missing, and her erect nipples could be seen from a mile. I could see Raman in the background, a sly smile on his face as he waved at me. But when she kissed me, it didn’t matter. I had kissed her back. And when she whispered I love you in my lips, I heard myself say it too, despite not wanting to.
That is the worst part. I love her, and can’t imagine my life without her. So I’ll have to win her back, love her so much that it will erase her memories of Raman, kiss the blemishes he has left on her skin, and I’ll have to tend to the pain she so dearly enjoyed. And soon, hopefully, she’ll realize how much I love her. And maybe that will be enough for her. Then she’ll apologize to me and we can put this behind us. That thought made me feel better, and I held her hand which lay besides me. We were almost nearing home.
Aditi
As I felt him touch my hand, I smiled. It was good to know that he didn’t hated me. I held his hand, stroking my fingers across his. I looked at him. Today was hard for him, I thought. But I also knew that this was just the beginning, for when we held each other’s eyes across the room, with Raman biting on my sensitive nipples, I realized that normal sex would never be enough. That this is a high that I’ll forever chase, and along with me, Anish will be dragged too.
Oh how wonderful today was! Raman didn’t even let me finish what I was saying to him. One minute we are walking into the room, and the next he had pinned me to the wall. By the time Anish came, my nipples protruded proudly, thanks to the merciless assault of Raman. Did he have a way with women! The caresses, the bites, the rough burning pain left on my nip due to his biting, and the soothing tongue that engulfed it soon to cool it down, it was a dance, a game, a war. And we had both won. This was the most exciting experience of my life. I don’t even remember where my bra is. But I know what lies ahead. I’ll have to set the course of the relationship today. And Anish kissing me even after witnessing me being used as a slut earlier was a step in the right path.
We had our dinner in silence. No one spoke, but it felt like we have somehow gotten more closer. More attached. I caught him looking at my cleavage. He was looking at the bite marks. I didn’t try to hide them. It was something he’d have to get used to, I thought. I just reached out and held his hand. Once we were done with food, I kissed him again. Come, I’ll serve you dessert, I said as I led him towards the bed. I unbuttoned his shirt, slowly, kissing him between each button. As his shirt came off, I hugged him, and a smile escaped my lips as he hugged me back.
What is it with guys and boobs? I never understood the reason behind the fascination with which men ogle at breasts, but as I stand in front of Anish, I understand why he is looking at me like that. With grief, awe and lust. Grief, for what was once his, and his alone; was now marked by someone else, someone he knew, someone he loathed. Awe, for they were red, like apples, his apples, ready to be plucked, and devoured. Lust, for now it was his turn to worship these globes, these tits, these breasts, still carrying the remains of the earlier assault. I stood there, my blouse on the floor, tits displayed in full splendor, washed in the dim lights of the room. I wanted to show him what Raman had done to me, I wanted him to trace every bit of pain inflected on me. Turning my back towards him, I moved to the switch and turned the main light on and walked towards him.
This was an antithesis to the previous act. Raman was wild, Anish did not have it in him to be. He was looking at them, and slowly, after what felt like an eternity; caressed a hickey with his thumb. I bit my lip, and let out a moan. Does it hurt? My ever so gentle Anish asked, his concern visible on his face. Yes, I replied. What should I do? He tentatively asked. I held his face. His eyes were red, and searched for the love he knew. And love him I did, so I gently kissed him on his forehead, and said, make it all better. Kiss me all over. I am raw from the pain Anish; please kiss every inch of my body, this used, abused body, and make me feel loved.
His lips touched my left nipple, and I let out a moan. He had seen it getting bitten, and he had seen me moan while it had happened. He paused for a moment, and then I felt his tongue engulf it, sucking it gently, with utmost care. I sat in his lap, and saw a tear running down his cheek. It hurt me so much, it felt like a glimpse into his heart; and forgetting everything, I kissed his tears. It’s okay, Anish, I am still yours. I am your wife, these are yours to play with. I can bear the pain, please don’t hold back. He looked me in the eye. But why him? Why Raman? You know I hate him, don’t you? He asked. Yes, I know; and to be brutally honest, a part of me wanted to hurt you, Anish. I wanted to see if you would love me even after I stray, even after I become someone else’s plaything, even after someone ravishes me like a slut. I wanted to see if you’ll kiss me even after knowing that I have kissed someone else, suck my tits even after knowing that I had offered them to someone a while ago, kiss the nape of my neck even though you can see that someone else pleasured me by biting there. I wanted to see if you’d make love to me, after someone had fucked me. And I wanted that someone to be Raman, the person you hate, for that would assure me that you do , in fact love me unconditionally.
The kisses grew. Tender, gentle love blossomed where lust had wreaked havoc a while ago. He kissed every bite, soothed it with his tongue, and slowly, steadily, worked his way towards the nape. Do you love him? He asked, in between kisses. I don’t know yet, but I can’t seem to say no to him, he’s so manly, and it’s like he casts a spell on me. I am not myself, but this flesh with hunger, ready to be fed, ready to feed. I undid my saree, and guided him between my legs. Anish, lap it gently, I have had enough roughness for today, I said, and closed my eyes. His tongue was magical, the crisscross patterns that it made, the gentle nibble he offered to my clit, I felt an orgasm build up. One day, soon enough, I spoke, holding his head with my thighs, I will offer this to Raman. I don’t even know if he will wait for that. He will claim it, ravish it, leave it gaping, tender, raw; I don’t know when it will happen, or how, or for how many times. Tell me Anish, will you comfort my pussy the way you comforted my tits today? Will you kiss it, knowing that Raman was balls deep into it earlier? Will you soothe it with your tongue? Will you be able to look me in the eye, and tell me that you love me, unconditionally? The orgasm erupted, and I could feel Anish kiss my lips, as a white light engulfed me into pleasure. And then Anish spoke in my ears. Yes, Aditi, for you I will.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/kf3il3/twisted_love_cuckold_mmf_india