The Stage, the Spotlight and the Stranger
Raj said, "What's up, Priya?"
"Nothing," Priya replied. "It's been a long time since you came by. Did Ajay drag you here today?"
Raj made a sound, "Mmm, no, just thought I'd visit. Been a while. Are you and Ajay fighting?"
Priya said, "No way. Everything's great. Why, did Ajay tell you something?"
"He didn't say anything," Raj said. "You tell me."
Priya thought she couldn't tell Raj about the roleplay stuff—she'd only shared that with Mannu. "Hmph, let it go," she said, her voice soft, almost teasing. "It's just how things are. I'm getting ready for this weekend's party anyway."
"What party?" Raj asked.
"Your office party," Priya said. "Aren't you invited?"
"You're going to that?" Raj's voice tightened.
"Yeah, I'm doing a couple of dance performances. It'll be so much fun."
Raj frowned. "What? Don't go to that party, Priya. And no dancing, absolutely not."
"Why?" Priya asked. "I danced a lot in college."
"This isn't college," Raj said, his voice low, intense. He looked at Ajay. "You didn't stop her?"
Ajay knew how men at those parties looked at beautiful women. But he couldn't stop Priya. His boss, Saxena, had invited her, and Saxena's wife, Renu, had spoken to Priya, excited about her dance. Also, deep down, Ajay wanted to show off his gorgeous wife, to prove how lucky he was.
"What can I say?" Ajay said. "Even Saxena's wife is dancing."
"That's different," Raj said. "Priya shouldn't go."
Priya laughed, a sultry edge to it. "Don't worry so much, Raj. At least eight or ten women are dancing. It'll be a good event."
Raj didn't say more and left after dinner.
Priya spent the whole week preparing her dance. Renu, Saxena's wife, told everyone to wear a red dress and a black sleeveless top. Priya had the dress but went with Ajay to buy the top. In this new city, talking to the other wives made her happy, and she wanted to impress everyone with a dance like her college days.
The party day came. When Priya looked in the mirror, she was stunned. She looked incredibly beautiful, but the sleeveless top was tight, a bit small, making her curves stand out boldly. Ajay saw her and his mouth fell open, his eyes dark with desire.
"How do I look?" Priya asked, her voice low, a soft "Mmm" humming in her throat as she met his gaze.
"You look… incredible," Ajay said, his voice husky, a low "Ohh" escaping him as he stepped closer, his hand grazing her arm. "Everyone might just stare at you."
Priya smiled, her heart racing with excitement and nerves, a faint "Mmmh" slipping out as she felt his gaze linger. They took a taxi to the farmhouse where the party was—a huge event with many people. Her nerves grew stronger. As they entered, Saxena and Renu greeted them. Renu, about 35-38, tall and curvy, recognised Priya from her dance videos and smiled warmly.
As Priya stepped into the crowded room, the air felt heavy with eyes on her. Her tight top clung to her, drawing gazes that made her skin tingle. Renu's hug was warm, but her eyes lingered, appraising Priya's curves with a knowing smile. "Ohh," Priya breathed softly, her voice catching as she felt the weight of attention. Ajay's hand tightened on hers, his breath hitching with a low "Mmm" as he sensed the room's focus on his wife. The night pulsed with unspoken tension, as if every glance could spark something dangerous, pulling Priya and Ajay into a dance far riskier than the one she'd rehearsed.
For two or three days, Priya didn't talk much to Ajay, still angry with him. Ajay tried to make up, but he came home late from work, so things didn't improve much. One evening, he left the office early and brought Raj home, knowing Priya wouldn't get mad in front of him. With Raj there, Priya tried to act normal, but her bad mood was obvious to him.
Raj said, "What's up, Priya?"
"Nothing," Priya replied. "It's been a long time since you came by. Did Ajay drag you here today?"
Raj made a sound, "Mmm, no, just thought I'd visit. Been a while. Are you and Ajay fighting?"
Priya said, "No way. Everything's great. Why, did Ajay tell you something?"
"He didn't say anything," Raj said. "You tell me."
Priya thought she couldn't tell Raj about the roleplay stuff—she'd only shared that with Mannu. "Hmph, let it go," she said, her voice soft, almost teasing. "It's just how things are. I'm getting ready for this weekend's party anyway."
"What party?" Raj asked.
"Your office party," Priya said. "Aren't you invited?"
"You're going to that?" Raj's voice tightened.
"Yeah, I'm doing a couple of dance performances. It'll be so much fun."
Raj frowned. "What? Don't go to that party, Priya. And no dancing, absolutely not."
"Why?" Priya asked. "I danced a lot in college."
"This isn't college," Raj said, his voice low, intense. He looked at Ajay. "You didn't stop her?"
Ajay knew how men at those parties looked at beautiful women. But he couldn't stop Priya. His boss, Saxena, had invited her, and Saxena's wife, Renu, had spoken to Priya, excited about her dance. Also, deep down, Ajay wanted to show off his gorgeous wife, to prove how lucky he was.
"What can I say?" Ajay said. "Even Saxena's wife is dancing."
"That's different," Raj said. "Priya shouldn't go."
Priya laughed, a sultry edge to it. "Don't worry so much, Raj. At least eight or ten women are dancing. It'll be a good event."
Raj didn't say more and left after dinner.
Priya spent the whole week preparing her dance. Renu, Saxena's wife, told everyone to wear a red dress and a black sleeveless top. Priya had the dress but went with Ajay to buy the top. In this new city, talking to the other wives made her happy, and she wanted to impress everyone with a dance like her college days.
The party day came. When Priya looked in the mirror, she was stunned. She looked incredibly beautiful, but the sleeveless top was tight, a bit small, making her curves stand out boldly. Ajay saw her and his mouth fell open, his eyes dark with desire.
"How do I look?" Priya asked, her voice low, a soft "Mmm" humming in her throat as she met his gaze.
"You look… incredible," Ajay said, his voice husky, a low "Ohh" escaping him as he stepped closer, his hand grazing her arm. "Everyone might just stare at you."
Priya smiled, her heart racing with excitement and nerves, a faint "Mmmh" slipping out as she felt his gaze linger. They took a taxi to the farmhouse where the party was—a huge event with many people. Her nerves grew stronger. As they entered, Saxena and Renu greeted them. Renu, about 35-38, tall and curvy, recognised Priya from her dance videos and smiled warmly.
"Priyaaaa!" Renu called out the moment she spotted her. "You're finally here! Oh my God, just look at you. You're glowing!"
Priya smiled softly, her cheeks flushed a deep red. "Hello, ma'am."
"Come on, come on! Everyone's waiting. I'll explain everything backstage," Renu said, grabbing Priya's hand and whisking her away. Ajay and Saxena watched them disappear into the crowd.
Renu led Priya behind the stage where five or six women stood in red sarees, chatting nervously. They all seemed to be in their late twenties to mid-thirties, but none of them could match Priya's beauty. There was something about her aura—nervous yet radiant.
"A few girls backed out last minute," Renu whispered, her voice casual.
The comment unsettled Priya a little, but her mind was too occupied with the upcoming performance to dwell on it. Her heart thudded with excitement and nerves—this was her first time dancing in front of such a large crowd in years.
Leaning closer, Renu added with a smile, "You'll go last, okay? That way, you can see how the others perform. Besides, I always say the best should be saved for the end."
One by one, the other ladies took the stage, dancing to various Bollywood hits. From the side of the stage, Priya could see their moves clearly, but not the audience beyond the glare of the lights. Yet, the roar of applause and sharp whistles told her the crowd was big… and loud. Her restlessness grew. The pounding of her heart nearly drowned out the music.
Suddenly, Renu nudged her. "Priya! Go! It's your turn!"
Snapping out of her trance, Priya stepped onto the stage. The bright lights hit her eyes. There were far more people than she'd imagined—at least two or three cameramen up front, and a sea of faces behind them. Whistles erupted the moment she appeared.
Through the blinding lights, she spotted Ajay standing slightly off to the side. A deep breath steadied her. Then, she waited for the music to begin.
As the first notes played, her feet moved instinctively. Her favourite song echoed through the hall:
"Mujhe rang de, mujhe rang de… haan apni preet vich rang de."
She started slow, graceful, but with each beat, her confidence bloomed. She lost herself in the rhythm, in the crowd, in the version of herself she had almost forgotten.
In the crowd, Ajay fumbled with his phone, trying to record. The cheers during Priya's dance were louder than for any other. Some men were openly adjusting themselves in their pants while staring at her. A part of Ajay should've felt anger, but strangely, he felt pride. That was his wife, stunning, talented, and fearless.
As the song ended, thunderous applause shook the hall. Priya rushed off stage, drenched in sweat, her heart racing.
Renu rushed to her and wrapped her in a hug. "Priya, you were magical! You were the star of this evening! But don't relax yet—one last group dance is left, and I'm joining you girls on stage!"
Minutes later, Renu gathered all the ladies for the final act. This time, Priya wasn't nervous. The fear had melted. But the song—a loud Bhojpuri number—was unfamiliar. It didn't matter. This was about fun, about letting go.
The choreography demanded a lot of hip movement. Priya felt her whole body swaying more than usual, and a strange discomfort crept in as she sensed eyes locked onto her. The energy escalated, and suddenly, a couple of drunk men climbed onto the edge of the stage, inching toward the dancers.
Priya froze. One of them was heading straight for her.
Before she could react, Renu stepped in, firmly pushing the men away and asking security to remove them. The music continued, and somehow, the group completed the number. But by the end, Priya was exhausted—physically and emotionally.
After chatting briefly with the other ladies, she began looking for Ajay. He was nowhere in sight.
She walked toward the drinks counter to get water. Just as she reached out to ask, a drunk man grabbed her wrist.
"Baby," he slurred, grinning, "Should I show you how to colour your soul tonight?"
Priya gasped, yanking her arm back, but he tightened his grip, pulling her toward him. Panic rose in her throat.
Suddenly, another man appeared. He gripped the drunkard's wrist and pulled it off her. Calm but firm, he said, "You've had too much. Go home."
The drunk man recognised him and backed off, stumbling away into the crowd.
Priya stood frozen, her wrist burning. Tears welled in her eyes, but she held them back.
"You okay?" the man asked gently.
She swallowed hard. "Yes. Thank you, sir."
"Here, have some water," he said, handing her a glass.
She took a few sips. Her breath slowly returned.
"I'm Priya," she said after a moment. "You might not remember, but we met at the bank. I'm Mr. Ajay Sharma's wife."
"I remember," he said with a kind smile. "And your dance tonight was unforgettable."
"Thank you," Priya said quietly. "But maybe I shouldn't have done it."
"No," he said gently. "It's not your fault. Some people lose all sense after a few drinks."
They began talking. As always, Priya opened up easily. It felt good to have someone listen.
"Oh, so you're from Jai**r?" he asked.
"Yes, sir. I moved to Luck**w about three months ago."
"Are you working anywhere, or just managing the home?"
"Just at home for now. But I used to work at a CA firm before marriage."
"Impressive," he said, pulling out a card. "If you ever want to work again, give me a call. We're always looking for talented people."
"I will, sir. Thank you."
He smiled, said goodbye, and walked away. Priya turned back to find Ajay and finally spotted him standing with Raj, a drink in his hand.
Her heart sank.
"You're drinking?" she asked, stunned.
Ajay looked startled. "No, I mean… just holding it. I only took a couple of sips."
Priya stared at him like she didn't recognise him anymore. "Let's go home. I've had enough."
She politely bid goodbye to Renu, then left with Ajay. Raj had already called a cab.
The ride home was silent.
And Priya's anger… was now boiling over.
//Priya's impact on Karan feels real and emotional//
Karan stood in the crowd, captivated by Priya as she danced. Her movements flowed like water, her smile so radiant it seemed to pull every gaze in the room. A flicker of surprise crossed his mind—why was a woman like her performing here? But that was Renu's gift: seeking out women like Priya and showcasing them for all to see. Perhaps that's what had drawn Karan to this party, the allure of something rare and unforgettable.
Her eyes lingered on her face, so pure and lovely that it stirred a quiet ache in his chest. Around him, the crowd's whispers turned ugly, their words dripping with crude desire.
"What a performance—stunning!"
"Who's she with?"
"Look at her breasts, practically bursting out with every step."
The remarks cut through Karan like a blade. Unable to stomach them, he turned away before the dance ended, seeking refuge at the bar, his fists clenched. Moments later, he saw Priya nearby, fending off a man who'd gotten too close, his hands too bold. Karan stepped in, his presence a quiet storm that sent the man scurrying. When Priya spoke, her voice was soft, almost delicate, like a melody that could soothe a restless heart. She shared her story, unaware of how her words held him captive, while he listened with a faint smile, guarding his secrets.
Karan hailed from a respected family, his father a high-ranking government officer who moved among the elite. In college, he'd fallen deeply for Ishani, a breathtaking woman from a wealthy business dynasty. Handsome and charismatic, Karan had won her heart, their love a wildfire that seemed unstoppable.
His dream was the army. At 22, he passed a gruelling exam, trained, and became an officer, climbing to Captain over six years. Through it all, he and Ishani held on, their bond enduring. She wanted marriage, and her father agreed—but only if Karan left the army for the family business. For her, he did, and they wed. But the blaze of their college romance dimmed. Within a year or two, they saw how much they'd changed. Ishani revelled in her wealth, spending lavishly and reminding Karan of her status. Karan, shaped by military discipline, buried himself in the business, his focus razor-sharp.
He quickly won over Ishani's father, his leadership honed by years in uniform. The older man began entrusting him with the empire, and Karan couldn't let it go. Eventually, he and Ishani agreed to an open marriage. They could sleep with others, but Ishani insisted they never fall in love—romance was theirs alone. Karan, certain his heart was closed, agreed. His condition was that Ishani's traditional father never learn the truth, preserving their flawless public image.
Ishani dove into the arrangement, perhaps even before it was official, losing herself in wild parties where lines blurred. Karan didn't understand her world but met Jeet, a politician's son, at one such event. Younger and reckless, Jeet introduced Karan to new women, and soon Karan was caught in fleeting, physical encounters—sometimes alongside Jeet. To the world, he was a polished businessman, but in private, he indulged in raw, reckless moments. They brought no joy, only routine. Jeet thrived on it, heedless of his reputation, while Karan guarded his carefully. To all, he and Ishani were the perfect couple, though they rarely shared the same space. Seven years had passed, and Karan was now 35.
When he first saw Priya at the bank, he knew she'd be noticed. Her dance tonight confirmed it—she was a magnet, and trouble was inevitable.
As he left the party, his phone buzzed. Jeet's voice crackled with excitement. "Heard about the new woman in town?"
Photos of Priya's dance flooded Karan's screen. He wasn't surprised—Jeet's connections ran deep. Karan's mind worked fast, always a step ahead.
"I know," he said coolly. "She's married."
"Even better," Jeet laughed. "She's gorgeous. Want to make a move tonight?"
"No," Karan said, his tone firm. "Not now. That professor's scandal caused enough chaos. This isn't the moment."
"She loved it," Jeet teased. "You were there, but your name stays clean."
"And it will," Karan replied. "Leave her to me. This needs time. Forget her for now."
"Whatever you say," Jeet said, hanging up.
Karan slipped his phone away. Priya's image burned into his mind—her radiant smile, her gentle voice. She wasn't like the others, a fleeting thrill to be claimed. His heart stirred, a dangerous pull he hadn't felt in years. But another urge simmered, dark and restless, demanding release. The night loomed, heavy with choices that could unravel everything, and Karan stood at the edge, torn between restraint and desire.
Help with Hidden Intentions
In the taxi, Priya realised Ajay hadn't just had a sip or two—he was drunk. He slumped over again and again, his weight collapsing onto her like dead weight. The driver kept glancing back through the rearview mirror, his eyes lingering too long. A mix of panic and anger coiled in her chest. It was past midnight, and Ajay's condition only made everything feel darker, riskier.
When their apartment complex finally came into view, she exhaled—but her relief was tainted by unease. The driver's eyes still followed her, like a shadow.
As soon as they stopped, she called out to the watchman near the gate. "Sir, can you help me, please?"
The man looked up and recognised her immediately.
"Yes, ma'am. What happened?"
"Can you help me get him upstairs?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
Ajay stumbled out, barely managing to stay on his feet.
"Of course, ma'am," the watchman said, stepping in.
She held Ajay on one side, and the watchman supported the other. As they moved, the man's hand brushed against hers—not accidentally. It lingered for a second too long. Priya looked at him. He was shorter than her, with an unshaven beard, wearing a loose t-shirt and pants. His expression held a faint smirk—subtle, but unmistakable.
"What happened to him?" he asked. "Drank too much?"
"Probably," Priya muttered, clipped.
In the elevator, Ajay swayed again, and the watchman adjusted his grip—his hand now resting across Priya's fingers. Her skin crawled. But she needed help. So she said nothing.
When they reached the apartment, she fumbled through Ajay's pocket for the key, her hands trembling. She unlocked the door and pushed it open.
"Thank you, sir," she said. "Just help me take him to the bedroom."
"No problem, ma'am," he replied smoothly. "By the way, my name's Ishan. You can call me that."
His words unsettled her more than they should have. They reminded her of last week's roleplay, when Ajay had kissed her hard and whispered in her ear—"Tonight, I'm not Ajay… I'm Ishan."
She pushed the thought away, her heart thudding in her chest.
In the bedroom, she froze. Clothes were strewn across the floor and bed—remnants of a rushed morning and forgotten passion. She hadn't expected anyone else to see this.
She and Ishan eased Ajay onto the bed. As she began picking up the clothes in haste, Ishan joined in, far too casually.
He held up a bra and said, "This must be yours, ma'am."
Priya's face burned. She snatched it from him and turned away, stuffing it beneath a folded dress.
"Thank you," she said stiffly. "You've helped enough. You can go now."
Ishan didn't move. "Sure, ma'am. Just one thing."
She stopped, alert. "Yes?"
He stared at her, unblinking. "Alcohol makes a man weak. A man shouldn't be weak."
His eyes dropped to her chest, lingering openly now. She followed his gaze and saw it—the clear bulge beneath his pants.
Her stomach twisted.
"Right, sir," she said, voice cold. "Thank you. Good night."
He smiled faintly, a look that made her skin crawl. "Good night, ma'am."
And then, finally, he left.
After Ishan left, Priya took a deep breath and changed her clothes, slipping into bed. She still felt Ishan's hand on hers, his dirty gaze on her body. Why was she still thinking about him? With that thought, she fell asleep.
Morning came, and Ajay's kiss woke her, his breath still smelling of alcohol. Last night's memories flooded back, and her anger returned. "Ajay, get back," she said, pushing him away.
"What's wrong, babe?" Ajay said. "Just saying good morning."
"Do you even remember what you did last night?" Priya asked.
"What did I do?" he said.
"You were drunk, passed out," she said.
"Come on," Ajay said. "I rarely drink. I was celebrating your dance."
"I needed the watchman to help bring you upstairs," she said.
"Oh?" Ajay teased. "What did you do with him? Finish your roleplay?"
Priya's anger flared. "There's a limit to joking," she snapped.
"Sorry, babe," Ajay said. "I won't drink that much again. Promise."
He spent the day making it up to her, taking her to a movie and dinner. Priya slowly calmed down.
If my stories made your heart race…
If you blushed, bit your lip, or couldn't stop reading till the end…
Then show a little love ❤️
Your support helps me write more bold, sensual, emotionally charged tales — just for readers like you.
👉 buymeacoffee.com/just_like_you
A small tip. A big smile. And many, many more stories to come.
Thank you for being here. 🔥
The Colours Beneath
The next week was Holi, and they went to Ajay's family home in Gha**ur for a few days. Priya was excited—her first Holi after marriage. She couldn't wait to see everyone after three months, especially Daksh, who kept creeping into her thoughts for reasons she didn't understand. In Gha**ur, she greeted Ajay's parents, aunt, sister Anamika, and cousin Vijay with hugs or respectful gestures. Then she saw Daksh upstairs, and her heart jumped. She'd forgotten their past in her excitement.
"Daksh, why are you up there? Come down!" she called.
Daksh came down, a small smile on his face. He looked different—stronger, his arms more muscular, his body more chiselled. A soft "Mmm" escaped her as she noticed.
"Looks like you joined a gym," Priya said. "Built a lot of muscles."
His aunt laughed. "He's always at the gym now. We barely see him."
"Impressing someone?" Priya teased.
Daksh changed the subject. "How's everything with you?"
Priya told stories about Luck**w to him and the family. She learned Anamika was expecting, and her joy overflowed. Holi was the next day, and preparations were on. Priya loved Holi and picked a white tunic.
In the morning, as she stepped out, Ajay's aunt smeared colored powder on her face. Ajay, who didn't like Holi, stayed in their room. Priya looked for Daksh but couldn't find him. On the rooftop, he grabbed her from behind, rubbing powder on her cheeks.
"Happy Holi, sister-in-law!" he said.
"Happy Holi!" she replied, turning to smear powder on him. They got close, hands brushing, a low "Ohh" slipping from her as their bodies neared. Daksh rubbed powder on her neck, his fingers slow, lingering. She tried to run, laughing, but he caught her from behind, smearing powder on her back.
His touch made her gasp, a soft "Ahhh" escaping. Daksh's hands tightened, sliding to her waist and stomach, then up her shoulders and arms, pulling her against him, her back pressed to his chest. "Daksh, stop, please," she said, her voice unsteady.
He didn't stop, his hands grazing her breasts over her tunic, holding her tighter. His face buried in her hair, he whispered, "I waited for you, sister-in-law. I won't let you go now."
She struggled, a shaky "Ohhh" escaping. "Daksh, let me go," she pleaded.
He squeezed her breasts, kissing her neck. "This is wrong," she gasped, a faint "Mmmh" slipping out as her body reacted.
"It's not wrong," he said. "You want this, too."
His hands pressed harder when footsteps interrupted. Priya pushed him away. Ajay's aunt appeared. "Looks like a sister-in-law and brother-in-law Holi party," she said, smirking.
Priya panicked, her tunic marked with Daksh's handprints. His aunt must have guessed, but said nothing. "Daksh, get a bucket of water. Your sister-in-law's dry."
"No water, it's too cold," Priya said, shivering.
But Daksh poured a bucket over her, soaking her tunic, her undergarments faintly visible. "Ahhh, it's freezing!" she cried, trembling, a soft "Mmm" escaping as Daksh's eyes lingered.
He looked away when his aunt noticed. She smiled at Priya. "A young sister-in-law and brother-in-law are a great pair. Tease her, but don't go too far."
"I don't know what you mean," Priya said.
"Don't act," his aunt said. "I won't tell. Go downstairs, you'll catch a cold."
Priya wanted to say she knew things too, but stayed quiet and went downstairs. In her room, she changed and washed off the colours, stunned by Daksh's boldness—his hands on her breasts, his kiss. A flush of warmth stirred below, a low "Mmmh" humming as she felt it. Why did she keep thinking of Daksh? Why did the touch of other men excite her, even when it felt wrong? The questions haunted her, a mix of shame and forbidden desire.
//From Daksh's Perspective//
When Daksh poured water on Priya, her bra gleamed through her soaked tunic, her full breasts straining against it, a sight that sent his arousal surging, a deep "Mmm" rumbling in his throat. Her curves ignited a primal hunger, his body aching for her, but his mom was there, watching. Fearing she'd see the bulge in his pants, he bolted downstairs, a low "Ohh" escaping as his desire burned.
For three months, he'd thought of Priya every day. The kisses he'd stolen on her cheeks and lips during her last visit seared his memory, keeping him awake, a husky "Mmmh" as he recalled their softness. After she left for Luck**w, he sank into gloom, but soon made a habit of using her photos for release, her image fueling wild fantasies, a soft "Ohhh" at the thought of her nearness. He wished she'd stayed, imagining slow, forbidden moments escalating into passion.
Today, what he did with Priya was unplanned. She was his sister-in-law, yet it happened fast, in the open. Her lush breasts felt soft and warm in his hands, a throaty "Mmm" as he recalled their weight, her trembling protests only stoking his fire. Now, that touch left him wild, a burning need he couldn't ignore. He grabbed his bike and raced to Neelam's house, a deep "Ohh" as he pictured Priya's wet form, his mind replaying their three months.
After Priya left, Daksh ignored Neelam's messages; his heart was with his sister-in-law. Neelam cornered him outside college.
"Daksh! Ignoring my messages?" she demanded, her eyes flashing.
"No, it's not that," he said, dull, mind on Priya.
"I heard you broke up with that girl, and she's gone," Neelam said, leaning close, a teasing "Mmm."
Daksh spread that lie, claiming Priya was his girlfriend to hide that he'd dated his sister-in-law. No friends met her, so it worked. Her absence gnawed, but Neelam knew.
"Yeah, we're done," he said. "She left Gha**ur."
Neelam's hand slid to his shoulder, her voice sultry, a soft "Ohh." "Sorry. Can we be friends? Drop me home?"
Her flirty gaze screamed intent. He'd chased her once; now she chased him, a low "Mmmh" from her. He should've been thrilled, but felt nothing.
"Okay, I'll drop you," he said, half-heartedly. "Get on."
Neelam hopped on, gripping his shoulders, a breathy "Mmm." "I'm scared of bikes. Go slow."
He dropped her daily, their bond growing. Neelam's hands moved to his chest, pressing close, a sultry "Ohhh" as she leaned in. They'd text or call all night, her voice teasing his senses, a soft "Mmmh."
Neelam was hot, but Daksh sought Priya—her breasts smaller, face less pure, a frustrated "Mmm." Still, he hung out with her. At a movie, Neelam kissed him first, her lips hungry, a deep "Ohh" from him as heat flared. After, she gave herself fully, her body his to explore, a throaty "Mmmh."
Alone, he'd kiss her deep, squeeze her breasts, too small, a low "Mmm." They crossed all lines, having sex, their first time. Neelam was hooked, in love, possessive, a shaky "Ohhh" when he touched her. For Daksh, she was a release, a stand-in for Priya.
On Holi, Daksh reached Neelam's house, dodging balloons, a raw hunger clawing, a deep "Mmm" picturing Priya's curves.
He called. "Neelam, downstairs. Now."
"Daksh, I can't," she said. "Holi, guests."
"Don't care," he growled, a harsh "Five minutes, or we're done."
Neelam, spooked, said, "Okay, I'm coming," a nervous "Ohh."
She showed up in a t-shirt and jeans. Daksh glared, a tense "Mmmh."
"Get on," he said roughly.
"Where?" she asked. "I lied to leave."
"Shut up," he snapped. "Hold tight. Hostel room."
His friends' hostel room, with his key, was their spot, empty today.
"Daksh, nuts?" Neelam said. "This?"
"Don't want to? I'll get someone else," he said, eyes cold, a low "Mmm."
Neelam flinched, hurt, a shaky "Ohhh." Daksh was cold, but today cruel. She loved his bad-boy vibe but craved softness, a soft "Mmmh."
Daksh knew he used her, his words brutal, but her eagerness drove him, a deep "Ohh."
"Didn't say no," she whispered.
"Get on," he said.
Neelam held him as he sped to the hostel, her arms tight, a breathy "Mmm." Inside, he slammed her against the wall, turning her, gripping her hips hard, a hungry "Ohhhh" as her curves pressed back. Neelam's face hit the wall, fear and thrill mixing, a sharp "Ahhh." Daksh was gentle usually, but now a beast, a low "Mmmh."
He yanked her jeans, her tiny underwear barely covering her hips, her fair skin glowing, a deep "Mmm" picturing Priya's fuller curves. His fingers dug into her hips, kneading roughly, a throaty "Ohhh."
"Ouch, Daksh, easy, hurts," Neelam gasped, a pained "Ohh."
He ignored her, kissing her hips, biting slowly, a husky "Mmmh" as her scent hit him. Neelam squirmed, pushing back, but he slapped her hip hard, a raw "Ahhhh" from her.
"Daksh, what's wrong?" she cried, trembling, a shaky "Ohhh."
"Stand still," he growled, a fierce "Mmm."
He tugged her underwear aside, kissing her hips slowly, savouring her warmth, Neelam's body wet with anticipation, a sultry "Mmmh."
He dragged her to the bed, bending her over, slapping her hips—light, then hard, each smack drawing a scream, a raw "Ohhh," drowned by music. Done, he stripped, turning her, his arousal throbbing, a pulsing "Mmm."
"Suck it, quick," he said, a hungry "Ohh."
"Daksh, you're crazy," she said, eyes wide, a nervous "Mmmh." His size scared her, bigger today, a shaky "Ohhh." She'd done this before, but now it was intense.
"Take it," he urged, grabbing her head, a deep "Mmm."
Neelam took him in, his heart overwhelming, a loud "Ahhhh" from Daksh, gripping her head, eyes shut, lost in Priya. Neelam struggled, mouth full, a muffled "Mmmh."
He tore her t-shirt, fingers diving into her bra, squeezing her breasts hard, a wild "Ohhhh" as he felt her softness, too small. Neelam sat, Daksh stood, his arousal in her mouth, her breasts in his hands, a primal "Mmm." He pinched her nipples, her muffled cries fueling him, a raw "Ahhh."
She pulled back, gasping, "My mouth hurts, you're pinching my breasts, too much," a pained "Ohhh."
"Hands and knees," he said, a commanding "Mmmh."
Neelam raised her hips, new position, a nervous "Ohh." Daksh grabbed her hair, entering her with a sharp thrust, a piercing "Ahhhh" from Neelam as she screamed. He moved hard, pulling her hair, a relentless "Mmm," her body rocking.
Neelam's cries mixed pain and pleasure, a trembling "Mmmh" as he squeezed her breasts, slapped her hips, each hit a gasp, "Ohhhh." At his peak, he groaned, "Ahhhh, Priya…"
Neelam loved the roughness, craving it, a sultry "Mmm," but Priya's name shocked her, a sharp "Ohhh."
"Why say Priya?" she asked, hurt, a shaky "Mmmh."
"Slipped out," he said, avoiding her eyes, a flat "Mmm." "Meant you."
"Truth," she said. "Am I a toy?"
Silent, calmer, he said, "Dress. I'll drop you."
Neelam dressed, pain in her voice, a low "Ohh." "Are you with Priya? Love her?"
"No, overthinking," he said, a tense "Mmmh."
"I'm coming to your house tomorrow to meet your mom. Friend, not girlfriend. Holi sweets," a defiant "Ohhh."
"Why?" he asked, panicked, a sharp "Mmm."
"I want to," she said. "Your mom's open-minded."
Priya was there for two days. Neelam would know, a low "Ohhhh." "Bad time. Next week."
Neelam planned to come anyway, a fierce "Mmmh."
Daksh dropped her off, calmer. At home, he saw Priya in a dress, drying her hair, her top's ties teasing, a deep "Ohhhh" as desire roared. Her breasts, waist—perfection, a sultry "Mmmh" recalling holding her on the rooftop, her warmth alive in his hands. He stared until Ajay appeared, a quick "Mmm" as he slipped away, longing searing him.
If my stories made your heart race…
If you blushed, bit your lip, or couldn't stop reading till the end…
Then show a little love ❤️
Your support helps me write more bold, sensual, emotionally charged tales — just for readers like you.
👉 buymeacoffee.com/just_like_you
A small tip. A big smile. And many, many more stories to come.
Thank you for being here. 🔥
Unmasking the Truth
That evening, Anamika and Vijay had come to visit, and although Priya and Daksh wished to avoid attention, they had no choice but to sit downstairs with the family. Vijay, as usual, was joking and teasing, trying to lighten the mood. But Priya and Daksh remained unusually quiet. At the same time, Daksh's aunt watched them closely, sensing something hidden between the silence they shared.
"What's wrong?" Vijay chuckled. "I thought it'd be all fun and laughter today, but everyone here seems so serious."
Priya smiled weakly. "Just a little headache, that's all."
Vijay grinned. "Well then, what's this brother-in-law for? Ask him to massage your head!"
Daksh briefly looked up, his gaze shifting to Priya for just a second. His thoughts betrayed him. He hadn't massaged her head—he had touched far more than that on the rooftop. After today, she might not even let him come close again.
"I can get you some medicine if you'd like," Daksh offered carefully.
Priya replied with cold restraint, "No, I'm fine."
The conversation soon shifted to Anamika's pregnancy and possible baby names. The mood lightened, and Priya tried to blend in with the group. But her aunt and mother-in-law weren't done with her yet.
"You should think about having a baby too, Priya," the aunt teased, nudging her gently. "You're nearing six months of marriage now."
Priya didn't know how to respond. She lowered her gaze, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
"Yes," her mother-in-law added, "If you and Ajay have a baby now, he or she can grow up playing alongside Anamika's child."
"Why is everyone only after Priya?" Vijay chuckled. "Someone needs to tell the groom, too. Ask the brother to do something for once!"
Ajay, sitting quietly nearby, offered only a sheepish smile. He never dared to speak in front of his family, and now even Vijay had tossed all the pressure onto him. Truthfully, neither he nor Priya was ready for a baby yet, and Ajay had his doubts about what they truly shared. But how could he say that here?
"Tell us, Ajay," the aunt pressed with a teasing grin. "Are you keeping your wife happy or not? If not, you can always ask your brother-in-law for advice."
Daksh sat frozen, listening to all of it. How could they speak so shamelessly? Here they were, practically asking Priya and Ajay to sleep together—right in front of him. The thought struck him hard. If his brother couldn't satisfy her... would Priya turn to him again?
Priya felt the sting too, especially when the aunt questioned Ajay's ability. She forced a smile and said firmly, "There's no need to worry, Aunt. Ajay keeps me very happy."
A chorus of playful "Ooooohs" broke out from the family, and Priya's face turned crimson. Anamika leaned in, playfully poking her belly and hugging her affectionately. But Daksh... Daksh was boiling inside. Every word pierced him like a needle.
Later that night, after dinner, everyone retired to their rooms.
The Next Morning
Around 11 a.m., the doorbell rang. Priya was still helping in the kitchen when her father-in-law answered the door.
There stood Neelam, dressed in a simple salwar suit, holding a box of sweets.
"Good morning, Uncle," she said with a sweet smile. "I'm Neelam, Daksh's friend. I just came to drop off some Holi sweets."
He welcomed her inside and called out, "Daksh! Your friend is here!"
Aunt also entered the room and greeted Neelam with open arms. She looked her up and down, her mind already piecing things together. She had seen Neelam's name flash on Daksh's phone more than once—and had read a few of their messages too. She'd suspected something, and now that Neelam stood here in front of her, she felt pleased. This girl, she thought, was a good choice. A decent, well-mannered girl. Pretty too.
When Daksh hurried downstairs, he came to a halt.
He hadn't expected this. Neelam was bold—but this? She had come to his home, without warning, after he'd explicitly asked her not to. He never thought she'd show up. No girl had ever done this before. It shook him.
"Why are you just standing there?" his aunt said. "Sit her down. I'll bring tea and snacks."
Trying to stay calm, Daksh motioned Neelam toward the couch. Neelam, meanwhile, scanned the house like someone imagining it as their future home. She was quietly hopeful. Could this one day be her in-laws' house?
The aunt returned and started asking Neelam about her home and family. She was warm, engaging, and open. Neelam liked her immediately and decided to ask the questions she had carried in her heart for days.
"Aunty, do Daksh's friends visit often?"
"Yes, of course," the aunt smiled. "But you're the first one who came to meet the family. And I'm glad you did."
Neelam hesitated, then asked, "Are any of his friends girls…?"
The aunt understood immediately. She laughed. "Oh no, he's never brought a girl home before. I'm sure you came on your own, didn't you? I bet he tried to stop you."
Neelam blushed. "Yes, he did. But I wanted to meet you."
"Well, I'm glad you came," the aunt said. "I think you're not just the first girl to visit—maybe even his first girlfriend."
Ajay looked at his mother, silently begging her to stop. But she didn't notice.
Neelam's cheeks turned red with delight. "Thank you, aunty. You're lovely. I'm really happy to be here."
"You must come again," the aunt insisted. Then she turned to Daksh, "Go call your sister-in-law. Let her meet Neelam too."
Neelam paused. "Sister-in-law?"
"Yes," the aunt said casually. "Daksh's brother and sister-in-law live in Luck**w, but they're here for Holi."
The colour drained from Neelam's face.
Daksh stood motionless.
He couldn't let this happen. Neelam and Priya couldn't face each other—not like this.
"Let it be, Ma," Daksh said quickly. "She's probably busy."
"Nonsense," the aunt said, waving him off. "They're very close. I'm sure she'll be happy to meet Daksh's special friend."
She raised her voice. "Priyaaa! Come down for a moment, please!"
The name struck Neelam like lightning.
Priya?
Could it be her?
When Priya descended the stairs, dressed in a soft saree, her steps slowed as her eyes landed on Neelam. She froze.
They stared at each other in shock. Neelam now saw her. Different clothes, different setting—but it was her. The same woman Daksh had once introduced in college as his girlfriend.
The aunt smiled. "Priya, this is Neelam. Daksh's close friend."
Priya sat beside her slowly, trying to calm the storm pounding in her chest. Her secret was unravelling. Neelam had walked right into the middle of it, and she knew nothing.
Neelam looked from Daksh to Priya and back again. Thousands of questions screamed inside her, but her lips stayed sealed.
Sensing tension, the aunt laughed. "What happened? Why is everyone so quiet?"
Neelam forced a smile. "It's nothing, Aunty. It's just... your daughter-in-law is so beautiful. I couldn't stop staring."
Daksh silently exhaled, relieved. Maybe Neelam wouldn't explode—not here, not now.
Priya gave a nervous laugh. "Thank you, but you're the pretty one."
"Well," Neelam said, eyes sharp, "I guess we'll have to ask Daksh that. He's spoken a lot about you."
Priya tilted her head slightly. "Funny. He never told me he was seeing anyone."
"Maybe he thought it would cause problems," Neelam said, her voice sweet but cold underneath.
The aunt chuckled. "There's no trouble here. A sister-in-law is supposed to help her brother-in-law."
Priya glanced at Neelam and replied calmly, "Of course. I'd do anything to help Daksh."
Her voice held weight. A message. Neelam heard it loud and clear.
"Daksh, why don't you show Neelam your room?" the aunt suggested.
Daksh stood, motioning for Neelam to follow. Priya remained seated, her heart racing.
Inside the room, Neelam rounded on him.
"She's your sister-in-law? And she's the one you introduced to us as your girlfriend?"
"Neelam, I'll explain everything. Just not here. Let's talk after college tomorrow."
"No, Daksh. I see it now. You didn't just imagine her. She's the one you want."
"Stop it," he said. "You're wrong."
Neelam turned toward the door and saw Priya standing just outside.
Her eyes narrowed. The pieces fit too perfectly. Priya hadn't just stolen Daksh's mind—she had stepped into his life, his home, his heart. Neelam had always felt second-best. Now she knew why.
She clenched her fists. If Priya had trapped Daksh, then Neelam would fight to get him back, no matter what it took.
Neelam, glaring at Priya, snapped at Daksh. "Daksh, if there's nothing with her, kiss me now."
Daksh, clueless, Priya was outside, hesitated. "Neelam, kiss here?"
Neelam's eyes blazed. "Why? Yesterday you fucked me hard in that hostel room, but today you can't kiss? Do it, now!"
Neelam grabbed Daksh's face, yanking him into a hungry kiss, their lips crashing, tongues tangling. Daksh, to hush her, kissed back, his cock twitching as their mouths devoured each other. Neelam's gaze flicked to Priya, a smug smirk claiming Daksh as hers. Priya, watching them suck face, felt her pussy clench with unrest and slipped away. The man who'd chased her was now eating another woman's lips in their house. It shouldn't hurt—she was his sister-in-law—but her cunt throbbed with unease she couldn't shake.
Priya fled downstairs, where Chachi gushed about Neelam, acting like she'd found her dream daughter-in-law. Soon, Neelam and Daksh came down, Neelam ready to leave.
"Aunty, meeting you was so nice," Neelam said. "I'll keep visiting."
Chachi beamed. "Anytime, dear. This is your home."
Neelam shot Priya a taunt. "Sister-in-law, you're off tomorrow, right?"
Priya swallowed her fury. "Yes, we leave tomorrow. Neelam, you're gorgeous, and Daksh's lucky to have a friend like you."
Neelam's eyes narrowed. "He is. And I'm not leaving him."
Daksh rode Neelam home, and as Priya saw them on the bike, Neelam's smug glance sparked her pussy to burn with jealousy. Neelam's attitude screamed trouble—Priya knew she had to warn Daksh about her.
Dropping her off, Daksh said, "Neelam, thanks for not telling my mom."
Neelam's voice was steel. "Daksh, I won't tell. But you're mine now, got it? If there's anything with Priya, end it today."
Daksh hid his rage. "She's just my sister-in-law. Nothing's there."
Inside, Daksh boiled. He'd controlled Neelam, but now she was pulling his strings. He had to tread lightly—if his family learned about Priya, all hell would break loose. Priya was leaving tomorrow, and he'd find a fix.
Priya's mind raced. Why didn't Neelam expose her and Daksh? What did Neelam think they had? Should she warn Chachi or Daksh about Neelam? Chachi was overjoyed, treating Neelam like family, so telling her was useless. Priya felt trapped, lost in thought. She had to leave tomorrow. Ajay and Mummyji were out—Ajay at the doctor with her, then shopping.
Priya went to her room, hearing Daksh return, slamming his door. If she wanted to confront him, now was the moment, but she baulked at his room. She texted: "If free, come here for 5 min." Daksh never replied, and she feared he'd blocked her.
A knock came. Priya pulled Daksh inside, recalling their last time here, when he forced a kiss, his cock hard against her. She wouldn't let that happen again.
"You're wondering why I called," she said. "We need to talk."
Daksh stood silent, eyes locked on her, his dick stirring at her curves.
"First, what you did on the rooftop was wrong," she said. "How dare you grab my tits? Anyone else, I'd have told everyone. But it was you…"
Daksh listened, quiet, his cock twitching, urging her on.
"Second, you've dragged me into this Neelam mess," she snapped. "I told you lying about me was bad. Now she's your girlfriend, and you hid it. What does she want from us?"
Her anger flared. "Say something, or just stand there?"
Daksh's voice was low. "What do you want?"
Priya gaped. "What do I want? What do you want? I'm saying Neelam's not right for you. She's cunning, and you—"
Daksh cut in. "Who's right for me? You?"
Priya froze. "I'm your sister-in-law!"
Daksh's tone darkened. "You don't know me now. I've changed. Neelam's under my cock's spell—she's addicted to my dick, won't cause trouble, if that's your fear."
Priya flinched at his crude words. "Daksh, but—"
He pressed. "I fuck her raw, she sucks my cock dry. What do you want?"
Priya recoiled. "What kind of question?"
Daksh stepped closer. "I know Ajay doesn't fuck you right. I can pound you good. Want a baby? I'll fill you up—nobody'd know."
Priya's voice shook. "Daksh, stop this filth! You've no manners left."
"You know it's true," he said. "You think of my cock, that's why you message me. Be honest."
Priya went quiet. What could she say?
Daksh softened. "You're so fucking hot, and I love you more than anything. Say it, and I'll ditch everything to run with you."
Priya shook her head. "Don't be mad. Honestly, Ajay isn't perfect, but we'll sort it out. If not, I'll adjust."
"Why adjust?" Daksh urged. "Let me fuck you, please."
Priya hardened. "I might fuck someone else, but never you. I should've stopped you that day—my fault too."
She waved him out, and Daksh left. Priya stood, hurt, her pussy aching from his words.
Minutes later, Ajay came in, dropping bags, giving a faint smile. Priya tried to act normal—this was her last night in Gha**ur.
That evening, everyone talked, Neelam the star, and Chachi, praising her. Others teased Daksh, who took it quietly. Priya stayed silent, hiding in the kitchen work. After dinner, she went to her room. Ajay was on his phone, on the bed.
Seeing Ajay, Priya thought. He wasn't awful—his family saw him as sweet, but she knew his edges. His cock craved sex like any man's, though his stamina lagged. Their roleplay had spiced their fucks. Recent drama—Daksh, Neelam—had pushed Ajay's drinking from her mind. She'd planned to tell Anamika or Mummyji, but didn't want to stress them. It was just once.
Priya locked the door and changed before Ajay, shedding her dress and blouse, standing in her bra. In the mirror, her tits looked fuller post-marriage, straining her bra. She cupped them, sizing them up, feeling Ajay's eyes, her pussy wet.
They hadn't fucked in days, and her cunt burned. She wanted his cock tonight, even without roleplay. Tying her hair, she climbed onto the bed, snatched his phone, and straddled him. She hugged him tight, kissing his neck slowly, her tongue teasing his skin.
Ajay laughed. "What's with you tonight?"
"Nothing," she purred. "Don't you like it?"
"I do, but…" he said.
"Then let me," she whispered.
She kissed his lips hard, her tongue hungry, diving deep. Ajay held her, kissing back, as her puss**y throbbed. She unbuttoned his shirt, sucking his chest, hands roaming. But Ajay's touch was soft, missing the fire she craved.
Frustrated, she yanked off her top, pulling his face to her tits. "Ajay, squeeze them hard," she begged, craving Daksh's roughness. Ajay's hands were gentle, fanning her impatience.
She tossed her bra, guiding his mouth to her nipple. "Suck them, bite them," she urged, but Ajay kissed lightly, his hand grazing her bare back. Her frustration grew.
"Please, do it right," she pleaded.
Ajay took her nipple in his mouth, sucking gently. Priya gripped his neck, grinding her body against his, her pussy dripping. She tugged down his pants and underwear, finding his cock small, not hard. She shed her clothes, pressing her cunt to his dick, but he wasn't ready.
"Do it, please," she snapped.
Ajay grabbed her waist, trying, and his cock hardened enough to enter, a sharp "Fuck" from Priya as he slid in, her mouth open, moaning loud. She rode him, fucking hard, her tits bouncing, but Ajay came fast, his cum spilling in her cunt, pulling out and rushing to the bathroom.
"Ajay, why leave? Come back," she called, her pussy still aching.
No reply. Ajay returned, dressed. "Priya, sorry, I'm tired. Let's sleep."
Priya stormed to the bathroom, splashing cold water to douse her raging cunt. She changed, returned to a dark room, and Ajay was asleep. Lying down, disappointed, her pussy pulsing, she wondered if Daksh was right—could Ajay fuck her right? But she told herself he was tired and slept.
The next day, they left for Luck**w,
Raj waiting at the station.