Hey ISS folks! I am Rohan. This is my first series ever. I am extremely excited to bring it to you. Some of it is fantasy, and some of it is real.
Let’s begin!
Every bond begins with vows. Some are spoken out loud, promises of love, loyalty, forever. Others are whispered in secret, the hungers too raw to confess, the cravings too filthy to name. Together they form the split truth of desire: the love that anchors, and the lust that unravels.
Most couples pretend that the two can never coexist. They cling to safety, or they surrender to ruin, never daring to imagine both. But some discover that their truth is too big for two. Some cross the line, and in crossing, they bring in a third. Not to replace, but to complete.
For those who stumble into it, who dare to love with the heart, burn with the body. The result is something beyond marriage, beyond fidelity, beyond sin. It is love and ruin bound together, filthy and sacred at once.
Rohan and Shweta were one of those rare couples that people envied. They always felt they were enough for each other. They’d been each other’s firsts. High school crushes turned college lovers turned husband and wife. At thirty, with three years of marriage, they still couldn’t keep their hands off each other.
The sex was good. Better than good. But the trust was even better. That was the foundation that made their fantasies dangerous. Shweta would sometimes tease, whispering filthy scenarios in bed, testing how far her husband’s mind would go. And Rohan, he never pulled away. If anything, he leaned in.
Aarav had met Rohan five years earlier at work. Two MBAs fresh out of school and already making names for themselves. They were the guys who worked insane hours, closed impossible deals. They then went drinking until dawn.
Somewhere between deadlines and hangovers, Aarav had become more than a colleague. He was a brother.
Like Rohan, Aarav was also married to his first and only. He and Priya had fallen in love in college, married at twenty-seven, and now, at thirty-two, had five steady years behind them. Priya was gentle, grounded, not the type to push edges. She loved her quiet evenings, her books, her little world.
She liked Rohan and adored Shweta. But when the group vacationed together, it was Aarav who was always dragging the rest out to bars, pools, and adventures. Priya often stayed back, content in her calmness.
Those vacations had been a test of restraint. The women in bikinis, tanned, laughing, wet from the pool or the sea. The men pretended not to notice too much. Except, of course, they did. There were glances over sunglasses, conversations after midnight with whiskey glasses in hand.
Rohan had once nudged Aarav, whispering, “You know you’re lucky as hell, right?” and Aarav had smirked, shooting back, “Look who’s talking. Your wife has every man at this resort breaking their necks.” They laughed it off, always pulling back before it could go further.
But the thought lingered.
None of them intended to cross any lines. They were content, each anchored in the certainty of their marriages. Each trusting that the bonds they’d built were enough. Desire wasn’t a threat, only a current that passed quietly beneath the surface. Never strong enough to pull them off course.
But life has a way of testing the boundaries people believe are solid. Sometimes it isn’t dissatisfaction that pushes the edges. It’s curiosity. Not a search for something missing, but a stumble into something unexpected. And once the unknown is glimpsed, it cannot be unseen.
None of them had ever been with anyone else. Each had married the first body they’d touched, the first lips they’d kissed.
Until that night. Friday.
Priya was away on an official tour, a month-long endeavour of flights and meetings. Aarav hated the empty house, the lonely bed. So, he texted Rohan.
“Bored as fuck. Dinner and wine at yours?”
When Rohan read it aloud, Shweta grinned. “Tell him to bring something good. I’ll cook.”
By the time Aarav arrived, bottle in hand, the house was wafting with the smell of chicken biryani. Aarav loved Shweta’s biryani, always hogging it by the ladle.
That night, Shweta was barefoot in a little dress, hair tied up carelessly, looking casual but devastating. Rohan noticed the way Aarav paused when she opened the door. His grin faltered for a fraction of a second before returning.
Dinner was easy at first. work stories, Priya updates, teasing Shweta about her cooking. But as the wine poured, the air thickened. Shweta laughed louder, leaned in closer. Rohan noticed Aarav’s eyes flick down her dress once, then twice.
At one point, she bent to pick something off the floor, her dress riding up high. Rohan smirked at Aarav’s averted gaze, catching the quick rise and fall of his chest. “Relax, man,” Rohan teased, low enough for only Aarav to hear. “It’s just Shweta, she’s cool.”
Aarav chuckled nervously, shaking his head. “Don’t tempt me.” But Shweta caught their exchange, her eyes narrowing playfully. “What’s this? Talking about me behind my back?” Rohan smirked, swirling his glass. “Just admitting you look incredible tonight.”
She rolled her eyes, but the pink in her cheeks betrayed her. “You’re drunk.” Aarav’s throat bobbed as he drained his wine, avoiding her eyes. But the silence that followed said what none of them dared. The line was there, right in front of them. And tonight, it may be crossed.
The wine had been opened, glasses clinking lazily as the three of them drifted from the dining table to the couch. The city hummed outside the windows, faint and distant. But inside the room, the air was dense with something else entirely.
Shweta curled into the corner of the couch, her short one-piece riding slightly higher on her thighs. She shifted nervously, smoothing the fabric. But every small move just made her legs look longer, her curves more pronounced. The air was light, but charged like something unspoken hung in the room.
Rohan sat right beside her, casual, but with a gleam in his eyes. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his hand lingering on her cheek. “You look incredible tonight, Shweta,” he said warmly.
Her lips curved, a shy smile tugging. “Rohan. Stop it. You’re embarrassing me,” she murmured, though the little blush that crept onto her cheeks betrayed her pleasure. “Am I?” He smirked. “Or maybe you like the attention.”
Across from them, Aarav shifted uncomfortably. He nursed his drink, glancing at Shweta quickly before looking away. “I…uh… you look really nice tonight,” he muttered, almost too quiet to hear.
Shweta raised an eyebrow. “Really nice? That’s it?” Rohan chuckled, nudging his glass toward Aarav. “Come on, man. That’s the best you’ve got? Say what you actually mean. We’re not in the office here.”
Aarav shifted, scratching the back of his neck. His eyes darted toward Shweta’s legs, then away just as fast. Inside, his chest was a storm. He could see Priya’s face in his head. Kind, trusting, the way she kissed him goodbye before her trip.
And here he was, fighting an internal battle about how to appreciate his best friend’s wife’s attractiveness. He was trying to control the slight twitch he felt in his pants. What the fuck am I doing?
Aarav gave a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if I should. I might go too far if I’m honest.”
“Oh, that’s exactly what I want,” Shweta teased, biting her lip. Her eyes glittered as she leaned back into the couch, stretching her legs just enough that her dress rode higher. Shweta and Priya loved to tease the guys with their curves.
But today, her stomach was full and her head tipsy with the wine. She felt daring, maybe dangerous as well. Rohan grinned. “Don’t hold back now. We dare you.”
The challenge hung between them, making the air heavier. Aarav’s stomach twisted, guilt and lust tangling into something sharp. He thought of Priya again, but his eyes fell back on Shweta. The curve of her body, the way the outline of her areolas pressed against her dress, the pink flush on her cheeks. His restraint cracked.
Aarav’s throat bobbed. His gaze lingered on Shweta’s thighs before darting back to her face. A flush crept over his cheeks. “Alright, if you really insist.” He hesitated, the words sticking in his throat. “There’s something about the way you carry yourself. Every move. The curve of your body. It’s intoxicating.”
Shweta’s breath caught. But then something else stirred, deep in her chest. She had never thought of herself as the kind of woman who would ever find herself in this position. From the time she was a girl, she had believed in the old-school fairytale — one man, one love, one life. No diversions, no temptations.
She had married her first kiss, her only crush, and she had worn that loyalty like a crown. Her body had only ever belonged to Rohan. For her, that had been intoxicating enough. The joy of keeping herself for him, of building a bond out of absolute trust and ruthless honesty.
They had shared every dark secret, every tiny shame, until their relationship was not just marriage but a fortress of friendship. So when Aarav’s words landed, when another man dared to call her body intoxicating, it rattled that fortress. A river of guilt, of strangeness, shot through her.
‘This isn’t me. this isn’t what I believe in.’ But then she felt it, the warm, steady weight of Rohan’s arms still curled around her, his chest pressed to her back, his breath calm against her ear. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t threatened. He was here with her, nudging Aarav, coaxing him, guiding the moment.
This wasn’t betrayal. This wasn’t breaking vows. This was her husband daring her to play in a space she never thought she’d enter. But somehow, with both of them here, it didn’t feel wrong. It felt like another secret to share. Another adventure to store in the vault of trust she and Rohan had built together.
Her eyes softened, her body melting into Rohan’s hold. Aarav’s compliment reverberated through her. For the first time in her life, she allowed herself to enjoy the thrill of being seen by another man — not as a replacement, not as a rival to Rohan.
But as an extension of the intimacy, she and her husband had always shared. If he’s with me, if he’s the one holding me through this. Then maybe even this can be ours too. Shweta’s breath caught, the heat of his words making her shift against the cushions. “Oh. Aarav.”
For Rohan, something was shifting inside him on hearing Shweta groan his best friend’s name. Something slow and seismic. He had never once imagined he would enjoy another man staring at Shweta. In fact, the opposite. He had treasured how classical she was in her romance, which mirrored his own.
He had loved her purity of focus. The way she had never once entertained attention from anyone else. That had been his security: knowing she was his, through and through. To him, she was the epitome of femininity — not just her beauty, but her spirit, her loyalty, her steady hand on his shoulder.
She had taken a boy fresh out of graduation, failed, flailing, ambitionless. She forged him into a man, a husband, a provider. That bond had been his anchor, his pride, his reason to brag about her every chance he got. Just holding her hand in a crowd, just hugging her in a gathering, used to make his cock stiff.
She used to tease him, laughing about how he never even glanced at other girls, and she was right. Why would he, when his wife was the most beautiful woman alive?
But now, his best friend stared at her body and voiced the awe he himself felt daily. Rohan didn’t feel threatened. He didn’t feel rage. He felt proud. A swell of ownership, of filthy pride, that someone he trusted with his life was admitting aloud what Rohan had always known: that Shweta was intoxicating.
If it had been any other man, Rohan would have cracked his jaw without hesitation. He had once done years ago, when some fool dared brush too close to her in a bar. But this wasn’t some fool. This was Aarav. The friend who was closer than a brother.
The only man Rohan felt safe enough to let this line blur with. And Shweta didn’t recoil, didn’t bristle at Aarav’s compliment. She accepted it with trembling lips. It told Rohan this wasn’t a betrayal of their loyalty. It was an extension of it. A new form of intimacy, twisted and dirty, but still theirs.
Rohan smirked and nudged Aarav. “That’s all? Come on. Be explicit. Tell her what you’re really staring at.”
Aarav shook his head, laughing nervously. “No, no, if I do that, I won’t be able to stop myself.”
Shweta leaned forward, naughtier than usual, her eyes locked on him. “That’s exactly what we want. I want to hear it. I dare you.”
Aarav exhaled shakily, eyes darting between the couple. “You’re both crazy for pushing me like this.”
Rohan smirked. “Or maybe we just know what you’ve been dying to say.” He took Shweta’s hand, guiding it casually up her own thigh. It was to remind Aarav where his eyes kept wandering.
Aarav sat back sharply, running his hands through his hair. His chest heaved like he’d just run a race. Guilt punched him hard in the ribs. He wasn’t the kind of man who’d ever entertained the idea of being with someone outside his marriage.
How could he? He had grown up watching his parents, a marriage of iron and tenderness, decades of fidelity. The kind of bond he had always hoped to mirror with Priya. And in so many ways, he had. He and Priya had their own easy rhythm.
The kind where he could nudge her about a pretty woman in the gym, and she’d roll her eyes and laugh, maybe counter with a cheeky, “Yeah, and that guy’s abs aren’t bad either.” It was their thing — honest, playful, but never crossing the line. That was the line they never broke. Appreciation, but never temptation.
But tonight blurred all of that. Tonight wasn’t just appreciation. It wasn’t just honesty. It was something heavier, every instinct telling him to take the risk. And for the first time in years, guilt tangled in his chest. Priya, I’m sorry, he thought fiercely, almost like a prayer.
The image of her trusting face flickered through his mind. It dissolved when he looked back at the couch. Shweta trembled. The fabric of her dress accentuated her curves, thighs pressed together as if trying to contain the heat he’d stirred in her.
That sight made his heart palpitate so hard, the guilt blurred into raw, aching hunger. And the strangest part? He didn’t feel unsafe here. He didn’t feel like he was betraying his vows in some cheap, tawdry way. Because this wasn’t some stranger. This was Shweta.
And this was Rohan, his brother in everything but blood. Sitting right there, eyes wide, lips curved in encouragement. His mind and heart worked hard to make him comfortable about the situation. He vaguely recalled Priya once appreciating Rohan for his fitness, his lanky, tall physique.
If it were anyone else, Aarav would never have dared. But with them? It felt twistedly right. This was his safe place, his sanctuary made dirty. The one space where he could let go without fear. Aarav groaned softly, defeated. He set his drink down, leaned forward, and let his voice drop, huskier now.
“Fine. You want honesty? Here it is.” His eyes roamed slowly over Shweta, and when he met her gaze again, there was no hesitation left. “Your ass. It’s perfect. Round, tight. Every time you move, it’s like you’re teasing without knowing it. Your boobs. They look so soft, so full, I can’t stop noticing them. Pressing against your dress. What are they, 34D? And the way your body smells, Shweta.”
He trailed off, licking his lips unconsciously. “I swear I can smell the scent between your thighs from here. Sweet. Wet. Driving me insane.”
The words hit her like fire. Shweta gasped, her thighs pressing together involuntarily, nipples hardening under the fabric of her dress. All she responded was, “Not 34D, 36E!”
Aarav sat back sharply, running his hands through his hair. His chest heaved like he’d just run a race. The guilt punched him again. ‘Priya, I’m sorry.’ But the sight of Shweta trembling on the couch, thighs pressing together, made his cock throb until the guilt blurred into hunger.
Rohan chuckled darkly, rubbing her leg in encouragement. “See? That’s the honesty we were waiting for.”
Aarav dragged his hands down his face, half-ashamed, half-liberated. “I meant every word. Every inch of you is driving me crazy.”
Shweta moaned softly, almost to herself. “God, hearing you say that, Aarav. It makes me so hot.”
The room felt smaller, heavier with tension. Rohan leaned close to his wife’s ear, whispering just loud enough for Aarav to hear. “I told you he’s been dying to say it. And look how wet you’re getting just from hearing it.”
Shweta’s chest rose and fell. Her body caught between embarrassment and excitement. She glanced from her husband to their friend, her lips parting. “Maybe I like being pushed.”
That’s all for this chapter. Happy to receive feedback and integrate it, if possible, into the upcoming chapters. You can write to me and Shweta at [email protected]. Cheers!