My name is Rajeev, and I am a simple middle-class married man. Mostly I live a normal life with my loving wife and a cute daughter. I love my 9-to-5 job, although it can sometimes get stressful. I usually don’t keep any secrets from my wife.
A few months back, our company hired new interns. Among them was a young girl who frequently flirted with me. There was an incident where, while we were discussing something in the conference room. She dropped her pen to the ground.
Then as she went down to look, she opened a couple of buttons of her shirt to seduce me with her cleavage. I’m not proud of saying this, but it worked. Seeing my erection, she cheered, saying, “I found it,” and quickly grabbed my dick.
At one point, the situation was so uncomfortable that I had to end her monthly review early. Then I went to the office bathroom to jerk off. I felt so guilty that I told everything to my wife. Then one day, I asked the intern for a lunch date where my wife joined us. We talked and settled the matter then and there.
I made it very clear, “I belong to my wife only.”
Having said all this, there is one secret that I couldn’t dare reveal to my wife. I have just gone too far along with it. If I talk about this with my wife, it could even end our marriage. The guilt of this shameful act kills me every day, especially around Raksha Bandhan.
So I have finally decided to share it with you guys, anonymously, of course.
Let’s call her Swara. Why Swara? Because she looks like the actress Swara Bhaskar but hotter and fairer. Just like me, Swara is also married and has two children. Even then, we have maintained this secret tradition. Every year on Raksha Bandhan, I go to her place.
She ties a rakhi around my wrist. We eat food cooked by her, we chat, and while being surrounded by her family relatives, we find a way for a quick fuck. The sex we have is purely for pleasure. Just a way to keep our bond strong despite living in different cities. I live in Mumbai while she lives in Pune.
Nothing more. Although, she often jokes that if our spouses die in the future, we promise to get married to each other. I know she does not mean it. She loves her husband, and I love my wife.
Every year when we fuck, I fear being caught and our lives being ruined because of that. Hence whenever the Raksha Bandhan festival approaches, my blood pressure shoots up. Hence today, I have decided to get this burden off my chest by telling you the story of how it all began.
This happened over a decade ago when we both were in college. Swara was a beautiful girl in our society. She is two years older than me. But in seventh grade, she had to repeat her year, so she ended up in my class. Since then, I have been in love with her.
Despite being in the same society, then in the same class in school, and then in college, I never dared to talk to her. I was too intimidated by her beauty and sexiness. Even our friend circles were different.
Whenever there was a social function, I stared at her like a creep. Swara is proud of her appearance, so she never hesitates to show off. Even then, she used to wear deep-neck dresses that displayed some cleavage, decent enough to be accepted by our society.
I never dared to talk to her. I feared I wouldn’t be able to take my eyes off her beautiful cleavage.
For years we lived together and studied together, but we never interacted. Then one day, this happened. Swara was, as usual, beautiful, chatting with her friends outside the college. She wore a cute tight green T-shirt with a deep neck and jeans.
I, too, was there but far standing with my friends. My nerdy friends used to motivate me, saying that I should make a move. “Make a move, idiot! If any one of us is capable of making her girlfriend, then it is you.”
While they continued to tease me, I kept my eyes on Swara. She smiled, laughed, gasped, and jumped with excitement. Her every reaction and every motion made her boobs squeeze as if they had a language of their own. I was in awe of her beautiful cleavage. Sadly I was not alone.
A handsome hunk boldly approached her. He confidently talked to her. Then when the moment felt right, he went for it. In public, in front of her friends and other college students, he grabbed her right boob shaking it.
Swara felt embarrassed. She gave a tight slap across his bony cheek, but it only made her hand hurt. She pulled up her dress as much as possible and covered her chest with her hands. It was a very awkward position, and whoever was watching it didn’t know how to react.
“Now is the time for you to shine,” said my friend, showing me his bike’s key. He did not expect what would happen next.
“Damn right, it’s time,” I said, taking the key from him.
Before he would stop me, I was gone. I started the bike and drove next to where Swara was. Gathering all my anger and confidence, I said, “Swara, come with me.”
She knew me, but we had never talked before. Still, when I called her, she came. Sitting behind me, I took her home. On the way, she hugged me tightly from behind while resting her chin on my shoulder. I could feel that she was crying.
Also, her tight grip around my waist told me that she was happy I made this move. Just before reaching our locality, I stopped the bike on an empty highway.
“Why did you stop here?” she asked.
“You might want to wipe your tears before going home,” I said, giving her my handkerchief.
She smiled, wiped her tears, and asked, “Who are you?”
What she meant was, why didn’t I show this confident side of mine before? One reason we could have a proper conversation on the highway and not before was because she had pulled up her top and her ample cleavage was no longer visible.
I took her to our society. She held my hand and took me to her home. There Swara told everyone how I courageously stood up to the bully, protected her, and brought her home safely. She might have added a few details that never happened but made me sound like a hero.
Her family and relatives there, for some reason, cheered hearing that. They thanked me, patted my back, and expressed their gratitude. Swara’s mother brought a lot of snacks, sweets and other tasty items to make me eat. She fed me a couple of items herself.
I was sitting and chatting with her cousins when Swara emerged from her bedroom in a beautiful traditional purple sari. I was mesmerized by her beauty. She was not looking sexy as usual. Still, I was in awe of her beauty.
She came, applied tilak on my forehead, fed me sweets, and waved the aarti thali in front of my face. Meanwhile, I continued to look at her. Before realising and reacting to what was happening, Swara lifted my right hand and tied a rakhi around my wrist.
I didn’t realize until her grandmother mischievously hit one of Swara’s cousins on his head, saying, “Learn something from him. This is how a brother should behave.”
Hearing people call me Swara’s brother made me feel uneasy. My sight got blurry while my hearing faded. I just felt numb. In the conversations that followed, the smile on my face and the answers I gave weren’t genuine.
By the time I reached home, the news of me being a real brother to Swara had spread everywhere in society. Everyone celebrated my act. Meanwhile, I cursed my bad luck.
“Stupid me. I did not do anything for years, and when I finally made my move, I did it on the day of Raksha Bandha. I’m a fucking idiot. What will I tell my friends?”
That evening our society members organized a Raksha Bandhan celebration. Because of what I did, that asshole society secretary came up with a brilliant idea of celebrating me. He announced that all the single girls in society would tie a rakhi on my wrist.
“Rajeev is a brother you want to have,” he cheered.
Look, I didn’t mind making all the women of the society my sisters. But why Swara?
“Why God? Why Swara? Couldn’t you reserve her to be my wife?” I cried while praying to god before going downstairs for the celebration.
By the time I reached the society ground, the function had begun, and everyone had started munching on evening snacks. Wherever I went, they praised me. My father proudly introduced me to all the outsiders. Meanwhile, I kept on looking for Swara.