Affairs to Remember Pt. 01

Affairs to Remember

Copyright ⓒ 2023 By Vyasya. All Rights Reserved.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit. This story may be freely distributed for personal use with this notice attached.

This is a fictitious story based on some experiences, mostly with my first girlfriend, who is the primary source of my cuckold fantasies and the heroine of most of my cuckold stories. I have taken liberties to make the story readable and also to conceal the identity of the culprits. Other characters who have played small cameos in my journey are included as they too have definitely had a lasting impact on my mind.

This is a story about a cuckold. A cuckold is a husband who derives pleasure from his partner's sex with other men. If this isn't your thing, don't offend yourself and move on.

You are committing an act of perversion by reading this story, and there are no better or worse types of perversion, only those that you like and those that you don't like.

This story is about a husband-wife-and-another-man relationship in which the husband is not the equal of the wife and the wife gravitates toward the other man for sex. The wife is shown to prefer having a deep, intimate bond with another man for extended periods of time and values it more than her marriage. Please refrain from offending yourself if this is not your thing.

You have been cautioned!

Chapter 1 - Prologue

The fictional story of my first girlfriend, Mayuri, was very well received. She appeared in the Journey of a Cuckold series (as Mayuri) first and then as Malti in the Malti series. The stories, of course, were fictional accounts, but with real-life characters, of how I imagined my life with her as a cuckold. She was perhaps the most beautiful woman I met in person. Even today, as a 50+ year old, she carries herself with the same grace and can easily seduce a young man with her beauty.

Curious friends reached out to me about my story, and I opened up to them about my background. Still, it wasn't until recently when I felt perhaps it was time for me to pen some of my experiences that have constantly prompted me to write stories on these themes. In the usual way, I am narrating it as yet another story, but with plenty of real things that happened, along with some fictional episodes as well. I am partly doing it to make it interesting and partly to avoid bringing disrepute to the involved parties. My regular readers may notice some common themes, ideas, and scenarios as well in this story. This is so because it has its roots in some real incidents that happened. My emphasis in this story is to cover the aspects that transpired in that critical phase of my life that have strongly steered me towards this (cuckold) genre. Obviously, I have taken quite a few liberties with the truth behind these experiences, but the core of them is entirely true. If it weren't, then perhaps I wouldn't have been an avid follower of this genre. Readers can imagine this as a story about what happened to Malti before her marriage to Sanjay.

Let me give a quick summary as a background to begin with and then start with the story.

I met Mayuri during my undergraduate studies and kept in constant touch with her for 5 years. Soon after my masters, we both realized that this relationship had several challenges, and she wasn't ready for them. Mayuri was from a rather affluent family. They had their own business, which was doing very well, and they were Chitpavan Brahmins, and I would have been a complete misfit in their family. If we had continued to live in the same place, it would have been a rather ordinary existence for her. However, that wasn't the reason she walked out of the relationship. It was because of her parents, who objected to it as they viewed it as polluting their gene pool.

It was difficult for me to accept, but like a gentleman, I accepted her wish and moved on. We continued to stay in touch for the next 7 years until she got married. Even when she got married, she had a heart-to-heart talk with me and tried to console me. At that point, we had both moved on from this phase and weren't as affected by it as we had been before; at least that's how we behaved then. I had other experiences by then and had grown emotionally distant from her, which allowed me to take it all in stride.

Much later, in our forties, we met once again with our families, and this time she reflected on her life. It wasn't as if we were unhappy with our lives, but she mentioned in passing that she wished she had married earlier; perhaps she could have enjoyed her youth more and had a lot more kids. If it weren't enough, she said that it would have all happened if I had been persistent enough.

This is all rather mundane for an erotic story, but it should help understand the background. She has figured as the main heroine in most of my stories. Although there were some other women who entered my life, I couldn't visualize my life as a cuckold of theirs, and hence, they never entered my imagination. Mayuri remains the chief inspiration for my cuckolding stories.

The next major inspiration for my stories was my neighbor, Kishore bhai. The stark contrast between Mayuri and him, and yet the subtle chemistry that developed between them, reinforced my cuckold tendencies. I say reinforced because, in some ways, one has to have such feelings before the journey can begin. It was this chemistry between Mayuri and him that, later on, became prime fodder for my stories.

One may ask why I am narrating these experiences now and why I kept them all hidden until now.

First, I was embarrassed about these feelings back then. There was no internet, no one to speak to, and hence, I often vacillated between being jealous and sexually aroused. Most often, I remained in a confused state about my identity. Back in those days, and even today, to a great extent, many people equated this behavior with being gay. However, I am repulsed by the idea of being groped by a man or even thinking about them sexually. I realized I had no interest in men. Some magazines such as Debonair, Fantasy magazine, and some smut literature were available in the Fort area of Mumbai that educated me and at least assured me I wasn't abnormal.

Second, I feared exposing the culprits. We lived in an ultra conservative environment and this fear was always present. I kept my feelings private and only recently started chatting about them with others on the internet. I read and shared my feelings through the medium of stories, but never conversed with anyone. It all changed in the last decade when, because of the popularity of my stories, people started writing to me--many of whom were actually women. My stories written in an Indian context that didn't rush to the sex scenes but took the time to explain why the sex was happening were very refreshing. It was not like the smut on the internet. It was easy for them to visualize and even identify with the lives of these characters, which made it surreal for them. Women have told me I have a deep understanding of their minds and can say some of their most private thoughts.

Finally, the question of what urged me to write about them now? Well, until one has clarity, it's hard to understand what the right thing to do is. As you become older and keep on assimilating various experiences in your subconscious, they will all make sense at some point. I wondered why I never lived a cuckold's life even though I write about it. The answer to this is embedded in my stories somewhere, but I didn't quite understand it until now.

With so much Indian smut, most of it visual, available online, the fear of getting caught is non-existent. It seems like everyone is doing it and even sharing it. Even though people still think they live in a conservative society and that such illicit matings don't happen, my belief is that the very reason these things happen is because we live in a conservative society. If it weren't taboo, then it would not have compelled the culprits to indulge in them. It's not that such things wouldn't have happened if we lived in a liberal society. They would have still happened, but we wouldn't have been enamored with them. Rituals and taboos add spice to our sex lives once the initial fascination of sex dies down. The sexual thrill one experiences in a taboo relationship can only be equated to the first time you have sex with your partner.

Nowadays, surveys from India show that most (> 70%) married women have erred at least once in their lifetimes, and over 50% of these have done this regularly and don't see any harm. Even if we water down these numbers, presuming that only the elite take such surveys, it is still a staggeringly high number if we only consider that, let's say, 15% of married women regularly erred. It's well known that at least 2% of the world population is a bastard, and this is the reported statistic. It wouldn't be surprising if the number was closer to 5%. That's insane if you realize that raising a human child is practically a lifetime investment. What could explain it? Don't forget that IVF and other agreed-upon ways of getting pregnant with donor sperm are not included.

If we say cheating and philandering are natural human traits born out of some deep-rooted psychological need and/or encoded in our evolutionary process, then this should be omnipresent. Society's norms can influence and shape them, but they cannot eliminate them. If we consider this in the context of India in the 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s, when entertainment was scarce, what would fill those spare hours that we now waste watching TV and spending on social media?

I contend that, sexually, women are much more available than men, even though we live in an ultra-conservative society. Back then, when women hadn't joined the workforce in large numbers, they were available to the men of their husband's family and perhaps his neighbors. So, the pool of men was small and severely constrained, but opportunities may have been abundant and affairs quite intense. For a married woman living in such a conservative society, even having sex (with another man) once a month must have been a liberating feeling. But I digress.

Let me begin my story with this background. What follows is a story stringing in some real and imaginary episodes. I have deliberately altered the situations and settings to avoid bringing disrepute to the involved parties. I have tried to write it as a story with logical development instead of writing about discrete episodes. The focus is on what sort of thing happened, both explicitly and implicitly, that steered me towards cuckold stories. Some find it rather laborious, and I wouldn't disagree. If that's the case, I would advise you to read my other stories. In this story, I tried to use Marathi and Hindi as the languages for the dialogues between characters; these two were the principal languages of communication. I have translated the dialogues into English as well for other readers.

Chapter 2 - Introductions

Mayuri and I met each other in the first year of college during our undergraduate studies. I saw her a few times and was instantly drawn to her. She was stunningly beautiful but carried herself in a rather simple, some may say bland, way. Her trademark look was a simple skirt, top, and hair carefully tied in a single braid. Perhaps I should combine that with the fact that her hair parted to one side rather than the center and that she never wore makeup, not even eyeliner. She was in a different class (room) because of which we only saw each other in the corridors, but soon she realized I was smitten by her beauty. Mayuri was beautiful in a traditional sense. There were other girls who tried to look beautiful by showing more skin, resorting to expensive creams and makeup, and even acting provocatively in front of adrenaline-pumped teenagers, but they never interested me.

She was 5' 3" tall and had a slender physique with a proportional bust and hips. She had big, deep brown, beautiful eyes and pouty pink lips that were any man's dream. Her blemish-free, pale complexion left nothing to the imagination. Although I never saw her pussy lips and areolas, I imagined them to be pink or red. In contrast to her, I stood at 5' 9" with a lean physique and a dusky complexion. If it weren't for my studious nature and brilliance, she would not have even noticed me.

As luck would have it, even though we had no common classes, we got introduced and got to know each other. By the end of that first year, we had shared our love notes and sort of agreed to explore a future together. To say that I was in seventh heaven would have been an understatement. She was very conservative and didn't let me get physical earlier, or perhaps I never made a conscious attempt. I was happy to ogle her and get pleasure from that simple act.

We both lived in the same suburb of Mumbai, and hence, a few times a week, I would walk her home after we got off the train. This is when our love blossomed and I connected with her. Before that, it was just a physical attraction for me. By the time our second year started, she had no hesitation in visiting me at our home. A lot of my classmates visited me to get study tips and to clarify their concepts. I excelled in school and even taught classes for 10th and 12th grade students in some subjects. Fortunately, this helped ease our financial situation to a great extent. One of our neighbors' rooms was empty most of the time, and I made use of it for my classes.

Mayuri was a practical woman. Even though we confessed our love to each other, it wasn't the way most folks did it by whispering "I love you" to each other. Mayuri was fond of me, but she never overdid it and was rarely melodramatic. She was the most practical person I had ever met in my life. This is especially so for a woman who is more emotional than a man. It doesn't mean that she wasn't an emotional person, but she didn't let it affect her behavior with people around her.

Naturally, our relationship had a business-like vibe to it. We paid our own bills and bought each other small but meaningful gifts. I had several friends who were girls, so it wasn't uncommon for them to visit me on some pretext or other. I was a social person (during those days) and kept in touch with everyone. So, her visits didn't look awkward. She started frequenting my place soon after our 2nd year started and pretty quickly got along with my mother and the folks in our Chawl. Although she came from an upper middle class family, it never showed either in her behavior or in her dressing sense. She was a Kokanstha Brahmin with a flawless, pale complexion, while I was an ordinary Maharashtrian with a dusky complexion. Our backgrounds were diametrically opposite, but that never deterred her. People in our neighborhood took notice of us and often teased us by calling us Kalu-Balu (Black-and-White). It did not bother Mayuri, though she giggled occasionally, not out of spite for me. Rather, it was just her usual jovial manner.

Mayuri met my lecherous neighbor in July, the second year of my college. There was almost instantly a sign of disgust on her face. In no time, he encroached on her private space, and her nose shriveled as she inhaled his pungent body odor. I expected nothing different from either of them. He was an incorrigible prowler, constantly prowling for unsuspecting lasses. Everyone in our Chawl was way too familiar with his antics and avoided ever being alone with him. Still, that didn't deter him from making them uncomfortable, even in front of their own husbands.

He stayed at home. God knows how he made money. He had been an excellent salesperson in the past, was savvy at money management and ran several schemes that people often invested in. He used to live with his fat, ugly wife, but she got tired of him and left him. It was a rather unhappy marriage for him as she could not bear him any children because of her obesity and hormonal issues. Kishore bhai stood at about 5' 8", about an inch shorter than me. He was, however, a stout and overweight man. He looked like a well-built man with a bulging belly compared to his overall frame. Think of him as a short body builder who has not been consistent with his exercise regimen, and then imagine him being 41 years old, which was his age. He was dark-skinned and had pock marks all over his face, but as I mentioned in the other story, despite it, he was decent looking. Despite his age, his hairline hadn't receded, and that, to a great extent, made him look better and much younger.

Mayuri's house was about a 30-minute walk from mine. In those days, it was common for people to walk a lot, and those distances never mattered. She won the heart of my mother in no time and pretty soon started helping her with some household chores. The very next month, when we celebrated Ganesh Chaturthi at our home, she was at my place, helping us out with the festivities. It was a five-day affair at my home. They only did some pooja at their place, so she was okay visiting me all those 5 days.

Even during those 5 days, I noticed how she cringed as he confidently courted her. Ganesh arthis were a big thing back then, and at our house, the evening arthis were done with aplomb, and it would fill the entire room with people. Because of the humid Mumbai weather, no matter how hard we tried, everyone would sweat by the end. During the last few days, someone else did the arthi, and I had time to see Mayuri and Kishore bhai standing together very close to each other. There wasn't any space to accommodate 25 people in a 150-square-foot room that had some furniture. Mayuri seemed comfortable, although I thought she could sense his pungent body odor.

I knew his philandering nature and, hence, finding Mayuri in his proximity bothered me, but strangely, I had a hard-on as well. It was instant when I noticed him lay his hands on her waist as he tried to push her aside and make his way towards the temple to offer his prayers. This is how he did it; he touched in a rather innocuous way and slowly pushed boundaries. Mayuri didn't even notice it. Kishore bhai asked me during those days if she was my girlfriend. I only blushed in response. "I am proud of you, my boy," he hollered. Still, we refused to give any other name to our friendship. Mayuri and I were rather practical and knew we had to cross several obstacles before we could dream of a common future.

A week later, Mayuri brought up his subject.

"तुझ्या शेजार्याची स्टोरी काय आहे?" she asked. "What's the story of your neighbor?"

"त्याला बायकां पासुन किती लांब असावा हें कळत नाही का?" she added. "Doesn't he understand how much distance to keep from women?"

"तो तसाच आहे. अणि त्याला कोणी काय बोलत सुधा नाही. बायका नुसता सहन करून घेतात," I replied. "That's how it is. And no one ever challenges him. Women simply endure it."

"पाहिलास का? तो कसा मला वरुन खालपर्यंत बघत होता? हातही लावत होता," she said. "Did you see how he was checking me out? Even touched me."

"त्याच्या पासून लांब रहा," I alerted her. "Stay away from him."

"बायकांचं नशीब," she mumbled in her mischievous way. "Such is the fate of women," she muttered. "काय?" I asked. "What?"

"कही नहीं तू राहुदे," she replied. "Nothing. Let it be."

Mayuri didn't fuss more about it, and I told him we tolerated some of his antics because he had supported us several times in the past. I also gave her some background on him, his marriage, and briefly dropped hints about his philandering nature, his scandalous affairs, and how his wife quarreled with him and eventually left him. We didn't talk about him much, but that whole evening, he was the topic, and she would constantly pepper me with questions, and soon we realized that we spent the one hour talking only about him.

This happened only about a month after she met him. I registered nothing, but in retrospect, I should have clearly read this as the first sign. Her curiosity about him had to have a reason, which I failed to understand. Her remark that such is the fate of women should have alerted me, but I missed it entirely. In a conventional sense, it meant that women had to deal with such things throughout their lives. But I could have interpreted it subtly enough that I may have missed it. It's a man's job to protect and shield his woman, and instead of confronting him, I was telling her to keep away from him.