In the Abyss of Perversion

"Almost there," I called out to Javed, my phone clamped tightly to my ear. The car's engine hummed as I navigated the unfamiliar streets of a quiet, suburban neighborhood in the outskirts of Manchester. Bidisha, my wife, sat next to me, fidgeting with the hem of her dress, her eyes darting to the GPS on the dashboard.

"Good," Javed's voice crackled over the speakerphone. "Make sure Bidisha's wearing that bridal saree I told her about."

My heart skipped a beat. The plan was in motion, and there was no turning back now. The very thought of my beautiful Bengali wife dressed in that crim*** and gold silk, her hair adorned with fresh jasmine, sent a peculiar mix of excitement and dread coursing through me. It was the kind of garment reserved for the most special of occasions, and tonight was definitely going to be one for the books.

Bidisha shot me a nervous smile, her dark eyes glistening in the dim car light. She knew what was expected of her, and she'd agreed to it all. It was like watching a silent film play out across her features--fear, anticipation, and a hint of something else, something darker, that I hadn't seen before. Her hand found mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. We'd been married for a decade, but this is the first time my wife bidisha will have two cocks inside her.

The house was a nondescript semi-detached, a stark contrast to the opulence I'd imagined for the kind of rendezvous Javed had described. As we approached the door, my heart hammered against my ribs. Javed had assured me his friend was a connoisseur, that he'd appreciate the beauty of a Bengali wife like Bidisha. And now, she was dressed to impress, in a stunning crim*** and gold bridal saree that accentuated her curves in all the right ways.

Flashback to the first time we met Javed--it was a typical Sunday afternoon in the sprawling shopping center downtown. Our *** had been playing hide and seek among the clothes racks, his laughter echoing through the air. And then, the unthinkable--we lost him. Panic set in, a cold sweat breaking out across my brow as we frantically searched the crowded aisles. Bidisha's eyes were wide with fear, her voice shaking as she called out for our little one. And then, like a guardian angel, Javed appeared, our *** clutching his hand, his grin wide and comforting.

Javed was a man of formidable stature, his muscles straining against the fabric of his tight t-shirt, his eyes dark and intense. I could feel the power radiating from him, his very presence commanding attention. He'd looked at Bidisha that day, and I'd noticed something in his gaze--a hunger, a craving that sent a peculiar shiver down my spine. But I'd brushed it off as mere admiration. After all, she was a stunning woman, with her smooth fair skin and those deep brown eyes that could melt even the coldest of hearts.

"Thank you so much," I'd said, relief flooding my voice as I took our ***'s hand. "We really appreciate your help."

Javed's smile grew broader. "It was nothing, truly," he replied, his English accent hinting at his west punjab heritage. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Javed. I own a restaurant just a few streets over."

Bidisha's grip on my arm tightened, her eyes still searching for our ***. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Javed nodded, his gaze lingering on my wife. "Please, come visit my restaurant sometime. It's called 'Shahi Mahal'. You'll find the best curries in town there," he said, handing me a business card with a flourish.

Bidisha had never warmed up to the idea of Javed. Something about him made her uncomfortable, a tension that had become palpable in the air between us. And so, despite his repeated invitations, we never found ourselves at 'Shahi Mahal'. Time had marched on, our lives filling with the mundane rhythms of work and parenthood. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

It was a busy Saturday, the mall teeming with shoppers. Our *** had begged us for a new game, and we'd finally caved, promising to treat him if he behaved. As we turned the corner, there was Javed, his family in tow. His wife was a healthy woman with a gentle smile, dressed modestly in a veil that matched her long, flowing abaya. Three young boys and a girl, probably around seven or eight, trailed behind her. They looked so much like him--his strong features softened by their youthful innocence.

My heart raced as our eyes met. He looked surprised but delighted to see us. "Hey " he called out, waving a beefy hand. We approached awkwardly, our *** hiding behind my wife's legs. He took in Bidisha's nervous petite posture and my ****** smile, and his own grin grew wider, revealing a set of gleaming white teeth. "I was just telling my wife about the lovely couple I helped out that one time," he said, slapping me on the back.

His wife offered a tentative smile, her eyes darting from me to Bidisha and back again. The ******** stared with innocent curiosity. Javed leaned closer, his cologne a heady mix of musk and spice. "I see you never made it to my restaurant," he said, his tone light but with an underlying edge that sent a chill down my spine. "It's a shame. I had something special in mind for you."

Bidisha's hand tightened around my arm, and I could feel her body tense up. She'd never liked Javed, not from that first encounter in the mall. There was something about him that made her skin crawl, a sense of danger she couldn't quite articulate. But now, here we were, face to face with him again, and I could see the wheels turning in her head as she processed the implications of his words.

"Maybe we could come by next week?" I suggested, trying to keep the conversation light.

Javed's eyes lit up. "That would be excellent," he said, his smile never wavering. "In fact, why don't I send over some takeout tonight? A little taste of what you've been missing," he winked.

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, looking for a hint of what she already knew I was thinking. But I just nodded, playing along. "That's very kind of you, Javed. What's your address?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

Javed's wife stepped forward, her smile warm but her eyes calculating. "Oh, it's no trouble at all. We live quite close," she said, her accent lilting and musical. "But I'd much rather know where you live, so I can send one of our guys sending delivery to your house"

The rest of the encounter was a blur. We exchanged numbers, and she promised to send the address over. I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as we parted ways, Javed's eyes lingering on Bidisha just a moment too long during the whole conversation.

That evening, as the shadows grew long, the doorbell rang. It was Javed's delivery boy, a young man with a shy smile and a bag of steaming food. He handed over the order with a courteous nod and disappeared as quickly as he'd come. We sat down to eat, the aroma of spices filling our small apartment. Bidisha picked at her food, her appetite gone, her eyes on the TV as if she could will the images to drown out the thoughts in her head.

"What's wrong?" I asked, noticing her lack of enthusiasm.

Bidisha shrugged, her eyes never leaving the TV screen. "It's just... Javed's wife was so nice," she murmured, her voice trailing off. "But something feels... off."

I nodded, understanding her unspoken concern. The '. community in our part of town was tight-knit, often keeping to themselves. Their customs and beliefs were foreign to us, but we'd always strived to be respectful and open-minded. Yet, there was something about their behavior today that had left us both feeling unsettled.

The next week, we found ourselves standing before the gleaming sign of 'Shahi Mahal', the scent of sizzling meat and fragrant spices wafting through the air. Javed's restaurant was a far cry from the stereotypical curry houses we were used to--elegant, with dim lighting that cast a warm glow on the plush red booths. The ambiance was intimate, the walls adorned with intricate tapestries that whispered of faraway lands.

As we stepped inside, the sound of sizzling spices grew louder, melding with the low hum of conversation and the clinking of silverware. Javed himself emerged from the kitchen, his smile wide and welcoming. He enveloped us in "So good to see you!" he boomed, leading us to a table in the corner.

The meals at 'Shahi Mahal' were indeed special. The flavors danced on our tongues, a symphony of heat and sweetness that was both familiar and exotic. Javed was a masterful host, attentive without being overbearing, ensuring that our every need was met. His wife, Rubina, often joined us at the table, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she regaled us with tales of her ********* in her native place.

Over time, Bidisha and Rubina grew closer. Their friendship blossomed like a desert flower in the heat of the kitchen, sharing recipes and stories of their respective cultures. Rubina, a skilled housewife with a flair for hospitality, would sometimes invite us over for dinner at their home, and Bidisha would return the favor. Our evenings grew richer with shared laughter and the spicy aromas of their combined culinary talents.

Yet, amidst the warmth of friendship, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to it. Bidisha had confided in me one night, her voice a whisper in the dark. "Rubina... she's obsessed with Javed. It's almost unhealthy, the way she worships the ground he walks on." I nodded, unsure of how to respond. I'd noticed it too--how Rubina's eyes would follow Javed around the room, how she'd hang onto his every word. But I'd dismissed it as cultural, a sign of respect in their marriage.

But the night that changed everything, I stumbled upon something I wasn't meant to see. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and Bidisha was busy in the kitchen, the scent of her latest experiment--a fusion of spicy and cheesy flavors--filling the air. She'd stepped away to grab some spices, and that's when I saw it--her phone, lying on the counter, screen glowing with an unread message from Rubina. The curiosity was too much to resist.

I glanced at the screen and felt the ***** drain from my face. "Why don't you let Javed take you out for a night?" it read. "You deserve it. He's got a surprise planned."

My hand trembled as I scrolled back, the conversation unfolding before my eyes like a sordid dance of temptation and rejection. The images that followed were explicit, a deluge of Javed's naked body, his cock thick and proud, the kind of size that could only be described in expletives. And there it was, the question that had been popped more than once, "Could you imagine that inside of you?"

My eyes darted to the kitchen, where Bidisha hummed to herself, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in my chest. I read her replies, a string of polite refusals, each one a delicate balancing act of friendship and discomfort. "No, thank you," she'd typed, "Vikram is more than enough for me." But the more I scrolled, the more it dawned on me--Rubina wasn't just sharing a fleeting infatuation. She was pushing a boundary, and the size of Javed's member was just the wedge.

The thought of my petite, beautiful wife getting filled up by that monster cock sent a rush of heat through me, my own erection straining against my pants. It was a forbidden excitement, one that made my heart race and my palms sweat. I knew I shouldn't be reading these messages, but I couldn't look away. The images of Javed, his dark skin slick with oil, his cock jutting out like a weapon of seduction, filled my mind, and I couldn't help but imagine it sliding into Bidisha's tight pussy.

In our ten years of marriage, we'd never discussed the size of a man's member, but I'd always known Bidisha had a fascination with the idea of being taken by a larger-than-average lover. We'd watched porn together, her eyes glued to the screen as the men on the display took women with an enthusiasm that sometimes made me feel inadequate. But it was just a fantasy, a harmless way to spice things up in the bedroom, or so I'd thought. Now, it seemed like reality was knocking on our door, and I wasn't sure if I could keep it out much longer.

That night, as our *** finally drifted off to *****, I approached Bidisha, who was curled up on the couch with a book. She looked up at me with those dark, expressive eyes, her features softened by the glow of the reading lamp. "Hey," she said, setting her book aside.

I took a deep breath, my heart racing like a wild stallion. "We need to talk," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Bidisha looked at me quizzically. "Is everything okay?" she asked, setting her book aside.

I took a deep breath and sat down next to her, my heart thumping in my chest. "It's just... we haven't been... intimate lately," I said, my voice cracking.

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, and she nodded solemnly. "I know," she whispered, reaching out to stroke my cheek. "It's the stress, isn't it?"

Her voice was soothing, a gentle caress against the turmoil that roiled inside me. I swallowed hard, my mind racing with the words I wanted to say, the accusations I wanted to hurl at her for the secret messages, for the images of Javed's cock that I knew had been seared into her mind. But instead, I took her hand in mine, feeling the warmth of her skin, the delicate bones beneath. "It's not just that," I confessed, my voice thick with emotion. "I think we need to... spice things up a bit."

Bidisha's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice tentative.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my tone light. "Just... I mean, it's been a while, right?" I said, avoiding eye contact. "Do you miss it?"

Bidisha's eyes searched my face, the question hanging in the air between us like a fine mist. She sat up straighter, her hand still resting on my cheek. "Miss it?" she echoed, a hint of surprise in her voice. "Vikram, we're married. We have a ***. Sex isn't just about... desire. It's about connection, love."

I nodded, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. I knew she was right, but the images of Javed's cock kept playing in my head like a pornographic reel on repeat. "But what if we did something... different?" I ventured, my voice tentative.

Bidisha leaned in, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?" she asked, her eyes searching mine.

"Your chats with Rubina," I began, my voice steady despite the tumult in my chest. "The ones about Javed... I saw them."

Bidisha's hand froze mid-air, the warmth of her touch vanishing from my cheek. Her eyes grew wide, and she pulled her hand back as if I'd burned her. "Vikram," she breathed, the color draining from her face. "I can explain."

But I held up my hand, stopping her before she could speak another word. "It's okay," I said, my voice calm, almost soothing. "I know you didn't cheat. But you're curious, aren't you?"

Bidisha looked at me with a mix of fear and hope, the words hanging in the air like a question that had been waiting for an answer. She took a shaky breath and nodded. "I've never seen anything like that before," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "It scared me, but... I couldn't stop thinking about it."

I leaned in closer, my heart racing. "It's okay," I said, stroking her arm. "We can explore that together."

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, a flicker of something unidentifiable crossing her features. "What are you saying?" she whispered.

"I'm saying that I know you're curious," I said, taking her hand in mine. "And I don't blame you. Javed is... a big guy." I paused, choosing my words carefully. "But he's using his wife to manipulate you, to get what he wants."

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, a hint of defiance in them. "It's just... talking, Vikram," she protested weakly. "It's not real. It's just... a way to feel something, you know?"

I nodded, my heart thumping against my ribs. "I know," I murmured. "But it's okay. You don't have to hide it from me."

Her gaze dropped to our entwined hands, and she took a deep, shaky breath. "Vikram," she began, her voice trembling.

"It's okay," I reassured her, feeling a strange mix of excitement and fear coiling in my stomach. "I want to see it. I want to know what you're thinking, what you're feeling."

Bidisha's hand trembled as she handed over her phone. The screen lit up with their conversation, the words stark against the black background. I scrolled through the messages, each one more explicit than the last. The images of Javed, his cocky smirk and the sheer size of his manhood, filled the screen. Bidisha watched me, her eyes wide and unblinking, her breath coming in short gasps.

"We'll chat with her together," I said, my voice steady despite the tumult in my chest. "It'll be... exciting."

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, a hint of curiosity mixing with the fear. "But why?" she whispered.

"Because," I said, my voice low and filled with a newfound excitement, "it's exciting to see how much other men want you. To know that you're desired so fiercely."

Bidisha looked at me with a mix of shock and fascination, her eyes wide. "What are you saying, Vikram?" she whispered.

"I'm saying that I know you're curious," I replied, my voice low and even. "And I understand. But we don't have to hide it anymore."

Bidisha stared at me, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and something else--fear, perhaps? But there was also a spark of excitement, a flicker of something that told me she'd been waiting for this moment. "You do?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Yes," I said, nodding firmly. "And it's okay. We're married, we can share everything."

Bidisha took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the weight of the confession. "Javed has been...stalking me," she began, her voice shaking. "He joined the gym I go to. I didn't want to raise a red flag without any rea***."

I nodded, my heart racing as I encouraged her to continue. "He's been flirting with me," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the floor. "But I've always kept my distance. I don't want to ruin what we have."

"But what if we could... explore that?" I suggested, my voice tentative. "Together?"

Bidisha's eyes snapped to mine, a mix of confusion and horror. "What do you mean?" she squeaked, her grip on the phone tightening.

"I mean," I said, trying to keep my voice calm and steady, "you could go on a date with Javed. Tease him, flirt with him. But nothing more."

Bidisha's eyes grew wide, and she took a step back, her hand flying to her mouth. "Vikram," she gasped, "you can't be serious."

"Think about it," I urged, my voice low and earnest. "You can flirt, go on a date, but you set the boundaries. And I'll be there, watching, making sure he doesn't cross the line."

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, a mix of fear and something else--desire, perhaps? "But what if he doesn't accept no?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

"That's the thrill of it," I said, my own voice thick with anticipation. "You get to push his buttons, see how far he'll go. I will be there watching every thing...i will stop him if he crosses the line"

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, the fear slowly morphing into something darker, more primal. "But what if he doesn't listen?" she whispered, her voice a shiver of doubt.

"That's the risk we take," I said, my own excitement growing with each passing second. "But I'll be there. I'll keep you safe."

Bidisha took a deep, shaky breath, her eyes still locked on mine. "Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I did not want this...I can only explore this if you agree you will be there around me all the time, Vikram."

Her words sent a thrill through me, a mix of excitement and terror. We'd never done anything like this before, and the thought of my beautiful wife with another man was both terrifying and exhilarating. But I knew she was strong, and I trusted her. We had a bond that nothing could break.

"Rubina's going to want an answer," I said, my voice a gentle prompt. "What will you tell her?"

Bidisha bit her lower lip, her eyes clouded with a mix of anxiety and excitement. "I'll tell her I've been busy," she began, her voice a shaky whisper. "But that I'm... I'm open to the idea."

I nodded, feeling a thrill rush through me. "Perfect," I said, a smile playing on my lips. "Keep it casual. Play hard to get."

Bidisha took a deep, shaky breath and picked up her phone, her thumbs flying over the screen as she composed a message. "Rubina, I've been thinking about your suggestion," she typed. "And I've decided to take you up on your offer."

My heart thundered in my chest as I watched her, her eyes focused on the screen, her expression unreadable. "But it's just a date," she wrote, the words echoing in my head. "A chance to get out of the house, to feel alive again."

Bidisha hit send and the silence between us was deafening. She looked up at me, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement. "I'm scared, Vikram," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

I reached out and took her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "It's okay," I assured her, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. "We're in this together."

Bidisha looked up at me with those dark, soulful eyes, her expression a tumult of emotions. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the weight of the decision she'd just made. "I trust you," she murmured.

Leaning in, I pressed my lips to hers, a soft, reassuring kiss. It was a moment of connection, a promise of the boundaries we'd set. "Kissing is allowed," I whispered against her mouth, tasting the sweetness of her lip gloss.

Her eyes searched mine, a hint of panic flickering in their depths. "But what if he... goes further?" she murmured, her breath warm and minty.

"You said you'd tell him no," I reminded her gently, stroking her hair. "And if he doesn't listen, I'll be there."

Bidisha nodded, her eyes still wide with fear. "But what if he tries to... more than kiss?" she whispered.

"If he tries, you stop him," I said firmly, trying to ignore the thrill that raced through me at the thought. "You tell him you're not comfortable, and I will show up."

Bidisha nodded, but the fear in her eyes hadn't disappeared. "But why are you okay with this?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Why are you letting this happen?"

"Because I trust you," I said, my voice firm. "And because I know that sometimes we need to explore our fantasies to keep the spark alive." I could feel the heat of her gaze on me as she processed my words.

Bidisha took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving mine. "Okay," she whispered, her voice trembling. "But you have to be there. You have to be close enough to... stop things if it goes too far."

I nodded, feeling the weight of her trust in me. "I will," I promised. "But for now, let's just focus on the date."

Bidisha took a deep breath and nodded, her grip on my hand tightening. The message from Rubina popped up on her screen, and she held it out for me to read. "Can I call you?"

I nodded, my heart racing. "Sure," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I want to hear everything."

Bidisha and I went to the dining room.
Bidisha's fingers trembled as she accepted the call, putting it on speaker. Rubina's melodic voice filled the room, a strange mix of excitement and innocence. "So, you're in?" she asked, her words tinged with eagerness.

I nodded for Bidisha to go ahead. She took a deep breath and leaned against the counter, her voice shaky. "Yes," she said, her eyes locked on mine. "I'll go on a date with your hubby."

Rubina's squeal of excitement was palpable, even over the phone. "Oh my God, Bidisha!" she exclaimed. "You won't regret it, I promise. He'll take you to the most romantic places!...How are you going to manage Vikram?...I can take care of your kid...you can drop him in our house."

Bidisha muted the call, her eyes searching my face for guidance. I nodded, the plan forming in my head. "Tell her I have to go on an office tour," I murmured, my heart racing with anticipation. "Say it's a work thing, and I will not be there."

Bidisha nodded, her eyes never leaving mine as she unmuted the call. "Rubina," she began, her voice steady, "Vikram has an office tour next week. He won't be home."

"Perfect!" Rubina's voice was a purr, a knowing smile in her tone. "Javed will be so excited, Bidisha. He talks about you all the time."

Bidisha's cheeks flushed, and she swallowed hard. "I appreciate that," she murmured, her eyes darting to me.

"Don't you?" Rubina's voice was a seductive whisper, her words a siren's call luring us into the murky waters of temptation. "Javed is obsessed with the thought of you, Bidisha. Every night, he fucks me, but it's you he's imagining beneath him."

Bidisha's eyes grew wide, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of crimson. She looked at me, her hand shaking as she held the phone. "I... I think we should talk later," she stuttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bidisha disconnected the call. She looked up at me, her eyes wide with a mix of excitement and nerves. "What did she say about Javed in the past?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm despite the tumult of emotions raging within me.

"She said that he talks about me all the time," Bidisha murmured, her voice barely audible. "That he's... obsessed with the thought of me."

The room felt as if it was closing in on us, the air thick with tension. Bidisha's words hung in the air like a confession, a secret we'd both been keeping from each other. "But I'm not sure I'm ready for this," she whispered, her eyes searching mine for reassurance.

I took a step closer to her, my hand reaching out to cup her cheek. "You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with," I said gently, trying to ease the worry etched into her features. "We're just exploring, remember?"

Bidisha searched my eyes, looking for the truth in my words. "But what if it's more than just exploring?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "What if I actually... like it?"

The thought sent a jolt of excitement through me, and I swallowed hard. "Then we'll deal with it," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "But remember, it's just a date. You're in control."

Bidisha nodded, her eyes still locked on mine. "Okay," she murmured. "But... what if I do want more?"

I took a deep breath, the weight of her question heavy in the air. "Then we'll talk about it," I said, my voice firm. "But for now, let's just focus on the date."

Bidisha nodded, but the worry didn't leave her eyes. "But what if I cross the line?" she whispered, her grip on my hand tight.

"You won't," I assured her, trying to keep the thrill from my voice. "You'll know your limits."

Bidisha searched my eyes, looking for the truth in my words. "But what if I don't?" she whispered, her grip on my hand tightening.

"Don't what?" I asked, my own heart racing.

"Don't you get... jealous?" she whispered, her eyes searching my face.

I paused for a moment, considering her question. "Jealous?" I echoed, my voice a gentle rumble. "No, Bidisha. This isn't about jealousy. It's about trust. And excitement."

Her eyes searched mine, looking for a lie, for any hint of anger or resentment. But all she'd find was the truth—my heart pounding with anticipation, my mind racing with the thought of watching her flirt, watching her tease him. "But why?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "Why are you okay with this?"

"Because you're mine," I murmured, leaning in closer. "And no matter what happens, you'll always come back to me."

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, and I could see the war of emotions playing out behind them—fear, excitement, doubt. But there was something else there, too—a spark of curiosity that hadn't been there before. "What if...what if I don't?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my own emotions in check. "Don't what?" I asked, my heart racing.

Bidisha's gaze searched my face, her eyes wide and filled with uncertainty. "What if I don't come back?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"You will," I said with a conviction that surprised even me. "Because you love me. And this is just a... a way to explore."

Bidisha nodded, but the fear in her eyes hadn't completely disappeared. "Okay," she murmured. "I'll think about it."

The room was thick with unspoken words, the tension palpable as she pulled away from me. She paced the living room, her thoughts racing as she chewed on her lower lip. "Vikram," she said finally, her voice a tremulous whisper, "are we playing with fire?"

I watched her, my heart heavy with the weight of our conversation. "Bidisha," I began, my voice gentle, "we're just exploring our boundaries. It doesn't have to mean anything more than that."

After two days, Bidisha informed me that Javed is directly messaging her, suggesting they extend their dinner date and spend some time in a night club. Her voice was tentative, unsure of how I'd react. "Vikram," she began, her eyes darting around the room, "Javed wants to take me to a nightclub after dinner."

The mention of the club sent a thrill through me, a mix of excitement and trepidation. "Which club?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, looking for a hint of disapproval. "He suggested 'The Blue Lotus'," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

"The Blue Lotus?" I repeated, the name rolling off my tongue like a sweet poison. It was one of the most exclusive clubs in the city, known for its private booths and late-night dances that often led to... other activities. "What do you think?" I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral.

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, the fear slowly giving way to excitement. "I've heard it's a nice place," she murmured, her voice tentative. "But it's... a bit risky, isn't it?"

"Risky?" I repeated, the thrill of the unknown sending a shiver down my spine. "What makes you say that?"

Bidisha took a deep breath, her eyes darting to the floor. "I've heard...things," she murmured, her voice a mix of fear and excitement. "Things that happen there."

I nodded, my mind racing with the possibilities. "What things?" I asked, my voice steady despite the tumult of emotions in my chest.

Bidisha's cheeks flushed a deep red, and she avoided my gaze. "Well, it's known for... for people to get a bit... wild," she murmured, her eyes darting to the floor.

"Wild?" I repeated, my mind racing with images of Bidisha, dressed in something revealing, dancing with Javed in a dimly lit corner. "How wild?"

Bidisha's eyes darted to me, a mix of fear and excitement in their depths. "I've heard there are... private areas," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Where people can... get intimate."

"Intimate?" I echoed, my heart racing with the possibilities. "What kind of intimate?"

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, a hint of defiance in them. "The kind of intimacy that makes you uncomfortable," she said, her voice firm. "But I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to do, Vikram."

The words hung in the air, a challenge and a question all rolled into one. "What do you want from this date?" she asked, her voice filled with a mix of curiosity and irritation.

"I expect you to enjoy yourself," I replied, my voice calm despite the storm of emotions brewing inside me. "To explore your curiosity. I know about your infatuation about big cocks"

Bidisha laughed- "why do you think Javed will show that to me without any intention? I just wanted to touch it. I don't want it to go beyond that"

I said- "If you really want to see that, then get intimate with him"

Bidisha- " How can you say that? Don't you feel any attachment towards me? I am your wife. I am not interested in real sex. I heard stories where women got hurt my big dick"

I said - "I am giving you the opportunity to enjoy yourself "

Bidisha- "You are sick. I did not expect you to talk to me about this"

I said-"I am not asking you to have sex with Javed"

There was curiosity in Bidisha's eyes - "Don't act smart, Vikram," she said, her voice holding an edge of challenge. "I know what you mean. If I go on this date with Javed, and we end up at The Blue Lotus, what are you expecting to happen?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken desires and fears. "I'm expecting you to have fun," I said, trying to keep my voice calm despite the thunderous beat of my heart. "To explore your boundaries. And to come back to me."

Bidisha stared at me for a long moment, her eyes searching my face for any sign of deception. "But you know what Javed wants, Haven't you noticed how he has looked at me" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "What if he tries something?"

"Bidisha," I said firmly, taking her hand in mine, "you're in control. If you don't want to go any further, just tell him no.Also don't lie to me that you don't like his attention"

Bidisha - "I don't want to play this dangerous game. There is a boundary to every fantasy. I don't want him to get a green signal if I went out with him. I know men like him sees most women as slut"

I repeated- "Just say no"

Bidisha nodded, her eyes still wide with fear. "But what if saying no isn't enough?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

I told Bidisha- "Javed is not going to ***** you in a club"

Bidisha took a deep breath, looking into my eyes. "I know," she said softly. "But what if he tries?"

I said - "you are thinking too much. At least let Javed kiss sweet lips of yours and then you can decide if you want to go ahead or not."

Bidisha looked at me, her eyes filled with a mix of confusion and frustration. "Vikram," she sighed, her voice heavy with the weight of our conversation. "I don't understand. Why are you pushing me into this?"

I took a step closer, my hand reaching out to gently brush a lock of hair from her face. "I'm not pushing you," I said softly. "I'm just giving you the freedom to explore your desires."

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, the fear slowly giving way to understanding. "But what if I don't want to?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

I took a deep breath, my heart racing with the thought of what she was suggesting. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to," I assured her, trying to keep my voice steady. "But sometimes, exploring our fantasies can lead to amazing experiences."

Bidisha's gaze searched my own, looking for a way out of the tangled web of emotions she was caught in. "But what if it's not just a fantasy for Javed?" she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "What if he expects more?"

"Bidisha," I said firmly, my grip on her hand tightening. "You're in control. You tell him no, and he'll respect that."

Her eyes searched mine, the fear slowly receding as she nodded. "Okay," she murmured, taking a deep breath. "But I'm not sure I trust him."

"Trust is a funny thing, Bidisha," I said, my voice low and soothing. "It's about knowing someone's intentions and respecting your boundaries."

Her eyes searched my face, the fear slowly being replaced by a spark of anger. "But how can I trust him?" she demanded, her voice shaking. "He's a Muslim man, and you know how they are."

I took a step back, surprised by the venom in her voice. "What do you mean by that?" I asked, my own voice tight.

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, regret flickering in their depths. "I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "I didn't mean it like that. I just... I'm scared, Vikram."

"Scared?" I repeated, my heart racing as I tried to understand the sudden shift in her tone. "Scared of what?"

Bidisha took a deep, shaky breath, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Scared of losing you," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Scared of what this might do to us."

I pulled her into a tight embrace, my heart aching at the thought of losing her. "You won't," I assured her, my voice strong. "We're in this together."

Bidisha leaned into me, her breath warm against my neck. Her lips found mine, and we kissed with a passion that seemed to consume us both. It was a kiss filled with apology and a hint of desperation, as if she were trying to reassure me with every stroke of her tongue. I could feel the tremble in her body, the fear of what we were about to do. But as we pulled apart, the look in her eyes told me she was ready to face whatever lay ahead.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her breath warm against my cheek. "I never meant for it to go this far. I should not be curious about him, about... his size."

I pulled back, looking into her eyes. "Bidisha," I said gently, "it's okay to have desires. It's human."

Her gaze searched mine, and she nodded slowly. "I know," she murmured. "But I don't want to hurt you."

"Bidisha," I said, my voice firm, "you won't. This is about trust and exploration. If you want to experience what it's like with someone else, I'll be okay with it. We'll get through it together."

Her eyes searched mine, looking for reassurance, and I knew that this was a pivotal moment in our relationship. With a deep breath, she nodded. "Okay," she murmured. "But promise me, you'll be there."

"Always," I whispered, my heart racing with excitement. "But remember, if you decide to go further... I won't stop you."

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, the fear slowly morphing into something else—desire. "What if I want you to?" she whispered, her voice a seductive purr.

I stepped back, my heart racing with the sudden shift in her demeanor. "Want me to what?" I asked, my voice hoarse with anticipation.

Bidisha took a deep breath, her eyes dark with desire. "If I get... too carried away," she murmured, "I want you to be the one to stop me."

The words sent a jolt through me, a mix of excitement and possessiveness I hadn't felt in years. "You're mine," I growled, my hand sliding down her arm to entwine with hers. "And I won't let anyone take you from me."

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, and she nodded, the spark of excitement in them growing brighter. "I know," she whispered, her voice filled with a newfound confidence.

Everything started from that day and now I am a cuckold now. I am driving my wife dressed as a bride in a traditional Bengali wedding attire to a lodge, following Javed's instructions.

Tonight, my wife Bidisha would be taken by two men—Javed and his friend, Ahmed. Javed had trained her well. He had introduced her to a world of pleasure she had never known, pushing her boundaries and fulfilling her deepest desires. I watched from the shadows, a silent observer in their clandestine meetings, my heart pounding with a mix of new excitement and fear.

When we pulled up to the discreet lodge, nestled between a row of trees, I spotted Javed leaning against a sleek black car, a knowing smile playing across his lips as he watched us approach. His eyes lingered on Bidisha, dressed in a stunning bridal saree that clung to every curve of her body. I could feel the heat of his gaze from across the parking lot, and it sent a shiver down my spine.

Bidisha stepped out of the car, her heart racing with excitement and nerves. She looked over at me, her eyes questioning, and I gave her a nod of encouragement. Javed stepped forward, his eyes never leaving hers, and took her hand, leading her to the entrance of the lodge. As they disappeared inside, I took a deep breath, my heart racing with anticipation.

When I entered the room they'd reserved, the sight before me was nothing short of erotic. The lights were dimmed, candles flickered, and the smell of incense filled the air. Bidisha looked absolutely stunning, her bridal attire a stark contrast to the lustful environment. Javed's eyes devoured her, and I felt a twinge of jealousy mixed with arousal as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear.

He leaned in and kissed her, his hand sliding down her waist to rest on her hip. The way she melted into him was both infuriating and exhilarating. I knew I had lost her long time back but it was I who started this. It was I who allowed this. It was I who wanted to watch.