November 11, 1994. That was the night I lost my virginity. I had been dating Anita for almost 6 months, and while we had made out countless times, we had never gone all the way. I was a classic product of the Indian middle class, having bought into the “all Indian girls are sati savitris” business and had never touched a girl even though I was almost 22 years old. Anita and I had formed an instant connection when we met at work, and one thing led to another and we had been hanging out together for a few months. I lived in a small rented apartment in Dadar, Mumbai. As we often did, Anita and I came over to my place after a movie, to have a drink, smoke a little and hopefully make out.
That night, we were sitting on my bed, kissing, as my hands roughly manhandled her breasts. Anita, a 24 year old Maharashtrian Brahmin, and I, the son of teachers from New Delhi. She is very fair (actually looks a lot like Raveena Tandon), with a ravishingly sexy face and a very well toned body that is not too skinny (unlike those anorexic women on the catwalk), but just right. Very sumptuous.
As we were kissing, Anita started playing with my nipples, her finger tips almost dancing on my chest, and in those days, it did not take very long for me to get hard. Sensing my desperation, she started unzipping my trousers, and for the first time, before I knew it, I was completely naked with her. I am 5’10”, and at that time was a bit on the skinny side (still am, albeit with a couple of extra kilos), and have a pretty nice (I think) 7” cock with a decent girth that is even darker than my dark brown skin. She reached down and started playing with my cock and balls. I was in heaven as I had never been naked with her—or any one else, for that matter—and her nails gently caressed my balls, making me ache with desire.
She did not resist as I ripped off her clothes, and I lay on top of her not knowing what to do but impatient to enter her pussy. I didn’t use the words but it was very clear that I wanted to penetrate her. She looked into my eyes, and positioned my cock so that I could rub it on her clit. As we danced together with the tip of my cock on her cunt lips, she said, “Don’t worry, you can go in. I am not a virgin.”
We had never talked about her previous sex life and, for some stupid reason, I had assumed that she too was a virgin like me. That simple comment hit me, and my middle class sensibilities, like a slap in the face. But I was horny as hell, and entered her cunt any way. It lasted all of a few seconds. I think I came inside her as I thrust her the second time, and it was all over.
She asked me to finger her clit, as I had before, and I felt her body shudder as she came with a violent spasm. Spent, we lay in bed for a couple of minutes, before she pulled out a cigarette from my case, and we started sharing the smoke.
At this point, my mind was a total mess, as I was still trying to grasp her comment about not being a virgin. With me cock limp, I asked her about it, hoping deep in my heart that it was only a one time thing with some guy, who was not good at it.
“Are you sure you want to talk about this? I like you and I don’t want to lie to you, so I felt I had to tell you. Are you okay with it?”
And trying to be cool, given my assumptions, I said, “Yeah, sure I am cool. Tell me about it. Who was it, and how did it happen?”
“I have had four lovers,” she said. “The first one was my boyfriend in college. His name is Anand—a Bengali sudra. He was tall, very black, and a medical student who also used to paint. I got attracted to him, and we were together for almost two years. We practically lived together for one of those two years. After I broke up with him, I had three other lovers. One was a foreign student from Ethiopia, one Punjabi, and another is a much younger guy from Bangalore.”
“So how many times do you think you have had sex?” was my obviously ridiculous question.
“Mujhe ginti yaad nahin hai. Dedh saal tak, main aur Anand to har raat ko saath mein sotey thÃ©, aur uske baad mein, baaki teenon ke saath bhi maine bahut baar kiya hai.”
“Wait,” I said, “is that guy from Bangalore your friend Sid?” (Short for Siddharth.) My heart was racing, my head was on fire and I had just found an emotion that I never knew existed. Jealousy. Intense jealousy.
“If you really must know, yes. Main tumse kuch chhuppana nahin chahti hoon. I hope you will like me just as I am, she said.
“Didn’t you just go with Sid for a five-day business trip to Calcutta just last month? Did you sleep with him then?” I asked panicking. I felt like I was in some kind of hell. I had really fallen for Anita, and this was hurting like nothing had hurt me in my entire life and I could actually hear my heart pound with fear, jealousy, deep insecurity and many other blended emotions that I still can’t express after all these years.
“I wish I could say no. He and I are just great friends, and he is a really good lover, and I could not resist.”
“What makes him a good lover? Does he have a big cock?”
“He has had a lot of practice. He knows exactly how to make me cum. Woh aur main picchley ek saal se chod rahen hain. Mere sub lovers mein, woh subse accha premi hain.”
“Wait, so all this time, we have all been hanging out together, and he has been fucking you?” I could feel my walls collapse around me. I didn’t know what to do. The thought that Sid was fucking her while pretending to be my friend was more humiliating than anything I had ever imagined. The thought that I would be the nice guy and drop her home after a party, and then he would go around and fuck her was making me insane. Right after he had put his arm around me as we shared a cigarette. So he knew, and must have thought me to be a total loser, whose girlfriend he could fuck at will!
She took a puff and said, “Nikhil, sweetie, I don’t think we should discuss all this any more. I just want you to know that I have really fallen for you. Sid is just a good friend and he was there when I needed him, and after my first break-up, the other two guys just filled my emotional and physical needs. I wish all of this had not happened, but it made sense at the time. But I don’t want to start something with you based on a jhooth. Can we please stop talking about this, as it is really making me very uncomfortable? Besides, I need to get going anyway.”
But I wanted to hear more. A lot more. I did not know how to feel, as I felt completely numb, and agitated at the same time. I felt like I had lost something I could not get back, no matter what. I was getting a “used woman” — a “fifth-hand hand-me-down” who other men had sexually exploited. I did not know what to think or what to do.
That night, after she left, I could not sleep. I tossed and turned all night. At 2 am, I got out of bed, and poured myself a couple of big drinks, before I almost passed out on my bed.
“Woh rundi hai—saali duniya bhar ko chod ke ab tere saath rehna chahti hai.” My mind was filled with images of all those men, including a black man from Ethiopia fucking her. “Saali ne kaale habshi ko bhi choda! Kaisi rundi hai yeh! Aur itne mahinon mein isne mujhe kuchh bhi nahin bataya! Aur mere saath shaam go ghoom kar yeh Sid ko chodne jaati thi! Kya pata aaj raat ko bhi yeh wapas Sid ko chod rahi hogi.”
With those violent, sexual images crashing in my brain like the high tide waves on the Marine Drive wall, I fell asleep, partially passing out.
Sometime in the morning, I felt her standing in my living room. She was there with Sid.
And she was sucking his cock.
And Sid was saying, “Choos mera lund.”
Sid’s cock was considerably longer and thicker and bigger than myown. She was completely naked, sucking his cock like a whore.
“Tu samajhti thi ki tu mujhko chodd kar Nikhil ko chodegi? Woh mere se achcha kaise chod sakta hai? Tujhe meri hi rundi ban ke rehna padega, chahe tu Nikhil se shaadi bhi karle. Uska lund mere lund ke aage kya hai?”
With that, Sid’s long and thick cock exploded in Anita’s mouth. As I walked in the living room, she had Sid’s cum dripping down the sides of her mouth, and she said, “I love sucking Sid’s cock. He is a real man and I love the way he fucks me.”
With that, I woke up with a start. It was all a dream, a nightmare, but a very vivid one. And I felt wetness on my bed. I had just had my first grown up wet dream. The almost-real dream/nightmare had made me very hard, and in my semi-passed out, semi-sleepy stage, my cock had spurted cum for the second time that night. But this time, it was as I had visualized my darling Anita giving Sid a blow job.
That night changed everything for me. It is now 15 years later, and Anita and I have been married for almost 14 years. I love her intensely, and I know now that she does too. But it is a very unconventional Indian marriage. I have remained faithful to her, and she says that I am good lover, but I am not enough and never have been, for her sexually. The jealousies and insecurities are long buried. In 1998, we moved to Chicago, and are very happily married.
But that night in Mumbai, another cuckold was born in this world. I would not have imagined it then, but I am very happy to be a cuckold now.
To kya hua ki meri biwi doosre aadmiyon ko chodti hai. Woh pyar sirf mujshe karti hai.
And that, friends, is my little story. There is a lot more in the middle. Perhaps, I will share it some day.
I am glad to see that I am not the only Indian cuckold out there, and it is great to have this forum to share with other men and women who enjoy this as much as we do.
My wife is out tonight, but I know I will get a full report when she returns. And she will do that as she always does: with her hand wrapped around my erect cock, while I feel her current lover’s cum inside her cunt with my right hand.
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