u/pkammie93

Hi all. I go by the name Kammie and reddit is where I secretly vent out. I'm 32M based at a far end in Navi Mumbai. Mine is a love marriage, still standing strong since 8 years despite challenges. My wife wanted a baby initially but I was against it since I had my own reasons. I felt we were financially not ready for this.

Now that when I feel we are ready financially and emotionally, she denies me sex because I denied her initially. We did it rarely and with protection because I was stressed most of the time working hard to make ends meet. Now, we have sex once or twice a year and its very mechanical at her end.

I'm very kinky and we've done it many times before marriage because it was our young horny blood. But now? Our physical life hits an eclipse when we reach our bedroom. Otherwise, we spoil each other with gestures.

Our close friends and relatives call us the ideal couple because how well we take care of each other. This is the only thing that is holding us back. However, trying to talk it out leads to arguments between us.

A few months ago I learnt from one of my Bhabhi that she also gets denied sex post the birth of their first child. Her mother-in-law is my Masi. Masi always tries to create rifts between Bhabhi and her husband.

Masi even didn't let them sleep together for more than three years now. Having found each other in a similar situation, we agreed to relieve each other. We had our own reasons to not leave our respective marriages. But now we are secretly continuing our relationship.

How many of you are into an otherwise okay relationship with your spouse or GF/BF but are secretly into something physical with someone else? Share your stories. I'll share mine with my Bhabhi in the next post!

Let me tell you about this crazy night from a couple of years ago. The girl’s name was Seema. She was around 25, with this perfect pear-shaped body, slim top, but then it flared out into these wide, juicy hips and a thick, bouncy ass that could make everyone ogle at them and drool.

We worked together in the same team since my previous organisation. I’d been in the previous company longer, while she kept switching jobs collecting trophies everywhere. Like she was allergic to staying in one place. Then we both landed in this new organization and shit suddenly got interesting!

The Bangalore offsite was where things between us were at its best. Especially during the DJ night. Seema was dancing like there was no tomorrow, sweating profusely, but not bothered.

But here’s the weird part, her sweat had this natural cherry-like fragrance. It was this filthy arousing mix that would hit you. Like she didn’t even need perfume. Raw, real, and strangely addictive.

We landed back in Mumbai around 2 AM, tired but still buzzing. As soon as we stepped out of the airport, Seema turned to me.

Seema: Arre, can we share a cab to go home?

Me: I’ve got my car. I’ll drop you. Your place is only 20 minutes from mine.

She shook her head. “Nah, I’ll book my own Uber.”

I watched her stand there under the lights, scrolling desperately on her phone. Sweat was pouring on her. A few stubborn strands of hair stuck to her forehead. She looked exhausted and kinda hot. I thought I'd stay there until she sits in her cab so that I can leave thinking she's safe.

But sometime later she insisted, "It'll be late. You leave."

I took the elevator to the parking floor. Then while I was getting out of the lift approaching my car. She finally called me.

Seema: Pratty, yaar, Panvel mein ek bhi cab nahi ja rahi. It’s taking forever. Can you drop me?

I laughed. “Mainey bola tha na pehle bhi!”

She came jogging over to the parking lot. My car was this old third-hand, parked in the darkest corner with very less lights, no people around. No reverse camera, nothing. Pure old-school driving, taking efforts like a labour. We settled in.

As I was reversing, my stupid habit kicked in. Right hand on the steering, left hand resting on the passenger seat, neck twisted back. My palm landed straight on her soft, warm upper thigh.

She gave me this sharp look. “Oye! Kya kar raha hai?”

I quickly straightened the car and turned to her, eyes wide. “Shit, sorry yaar! Bad habit. I always do that while reversing.”

Instead of getting mad or shouting more, Seema just smiled, her eyes showing a different kind of hunger.

She said in a low voice, “Your touch.. I got so wet, baba. Ata tula majhyakdna sutka nahi re.” (now you can't escape from me).

Before I could even say anything, this girl turned into a full-on acrobat in my tiny car. She pushed my seat all the way back, pulled the backrest back down until it was almost flat, and literally jumped on me. Her mouth crashed into mine. Sloppy, desperate, tongues fighting, drool coming out. She smelled like cherry and defined horniness.

She pulled off her top and bra real quick. Her tits sprang out. They were full, heavy, still shiny with sweat. The light brown nipples were rock hard. I latched onto one immediately, sucking and biting hard, tasting that salty-sweet cherry tang. Squeezing, pinching and tickling the other one. She was rubbing her vagina on my dick while we were still clothed.

She laughed breathlessly and started struggling with her tight jeans in the cramped space. But she wasn’t the type to give up. Still topless, tits swaying, she folded the front passenger seat, bent the rear seat down, and crawled to the back like a pro gymnast. Helped me crawl back. She even folded my driver seat forward. In minutes, my shitty car had become a makeshift sex bed!

“Damn, respect,” I said, genuinely impressed.

We stripped completely. Her pear-shaped body looked even better naked with soft belly, those wide hips, thick powerful thighs, and that juicy round ass. Her pussy was already dripping.

She pushed me down and climbed on top like she was riding a horse. She was slightly bent as the height inside was less. She grabbed my cock, rubbed it against her wet slit a few times. She winked at me and sank down with a hard moan "Ahh Fuck!"

She was riding me like her life depended on it. Her moves felt fast, desperate and urgent. She was bouncing hard on me and her ass was slapping my thigh. She hit her head on the car roof twice.

Me: Careful. You'll get hurt. Mujhpe complete flat ho ja na.

She bit her lip and came down, pressing her sweaty tits against my chest. I was panting. My dick softening now.

Seema: Kya hua? Thak gaya?

I shook my head saying no. Her riding continued. Our bodies slid together, slick with sweat. The AC was running but losing badly against us. Our moans filled the air inside the car making it more obscene.

Her cherry-scented sweat was dripping onto my face and neck. I licked whatever I could reach, tasting salt and that sweet fruity note mixed with this raw woman. She was panting in my ear, whispering all kinds of dirty shit.

Seema: Zor se kar na... My pussy likes your cock!

I squeezed her juicy gaand hard, and slapped it as I fucked her deeper. Her pussy now clenching tighter and tighter around my dick.

We came together hard. She buried her face in my neck, biting hard to suppress her moan. I groaned like an animal and pumped rope after rope of cum deep inside her, holding her hips tight.

The poor car’s suspension maybe like it had just survived an earthquake as it had been rocking side to side. We somehow untangled ourselves and climbed back to the front seats. We got dressed.

She gave her soaked panties to me as a gift to remember this crazy night. She put on her jeans and looked at me saying this has not ended yet. Still topless, she opened my pant's zip in the front seat. I was erect again.

She took out my shaft, stroked it. Her boobies jiggled hypnotically. Then she licked the residual cum that was still lingering on my dick. Then she gave me a sloppy blowjob to end this. It felt like close to 20 mins, slow, sloppy, licking and sucking. There were pop and click sounds that gave me goosebumps like an ASMR video.

She took my dick deep inside such that my cum landed in her throat. She didn't even waste a single drop. I started the car and began the drive towards Panvel. The filthy banter kicked in immediately.

“Arre waah, Seema. Office mein itni shy, aur yahan car mein...” I teased.

She laughed, still catching her breath. “Saale, tu bhi kya gentleman ban raha tha itne saal. Aaj pata chali teri asliyat!”

We kept talking dirty the whole way. We finally reached her building in Panvel. Before going in, she came to my window, leaned in, and gave me a soft, sweet peck on the lips.

“Thanks... for everything,” she whispered with a shy little smile.

I watched her walk away, that pear-shaped ass swaying under the building lights as she went inside. I sat there for a second, the car still smelling like cherry, sweat and sex, thinking only one thing: Best. Offsite. Ever!

The end!

Back in 2010, I was just another awkward engineering student in Panvel, trying to save every rupee. That’s when Sweeney entered my life like a whirlwind with a leather jacket and zero filter.

She was my classmate, living all the way in Palghar. Daily six-hour commute had finally broken her. One day she cornered me: “Pratty bro, I’m done with this travel torture. Looking for a flat nearby but these girls’ hostels sound like ragging camps. One senior makes everyone wash her clothes and utensils. No thanks. I want a maid for cleaning, a washing machine, Wi-Fi, and actual study time — not some ragging party.”

I listened, half nodding, half distracted by how casually she dropped all this. Then an idea hit me. “My dad has an empty flat in Kharghar. Peaceful area, but about 30 minutes by bike from college. You can take it, set it up how you want, and add roommates later to share bills.”

“Deal. Let’s check it out tomorrow.” she replied.

Sweeney being Sweeney, she turned it into a mini road trip. Scorching April heat, and she shows up with helmet, stole, leather jacket, and a massive tiffin like we’re heading to Lonavala. I facepalmed internally but didn’t argue — potential tenant, after all.

We bunked college. After showing her the building, she insisted on “exploring the area.” Translation: extra time glued to my bike. “Left le… seedha ja… ab right!” We roamed for an hour before she finally agreed to go inside.

The flat was dusty as hell. I’d left a chatai in the living room for family visits. I started the tour like a proper broker: “This is the bedroom, attached bath…” But when I turned, Sweeney wasn’t behind me. She was in the living room, peeling off that leather jacket.

“Too hot na!” she sighed.

Underneath was a tight black camisole that barely contained her. Sweat making her fair belly and arms glisten. Clean-shaven underarms shining like mirrors. I swallowed hard. Already half-hard and we hadn’t even reached the second room.

She used the washroom, came out, and deliberately “tripped” into me, pressing her body flush against mine. My dick went from semi to full painful tent in seconds, poking right against her crotch through my jeans.

“Sorry,” she said innocently, not moving an inch. Then she humped once, twice. “What’s this poking rod, Pratty?”

I panicked. “It’s… natural. You’re barely dressed. Please don’t tell anyone in our class. I’ll take you for a movie, lunch, anything—”

She raised an eyebrow, grinding slowly. “Natural, huh? Well, I got wet seeing this bulge. So now I’m not responsible for what happens next.”

Before I could process, her lips crashed into mine. Hungry, sloppy kissing — tongues fighting, her hands already tugging my t-shirt off. I pushed her against the wall, dusty plaster be damned. My mouth went straight to her tits, sucking hard on her nipples through the thin camisole until she moaned and yanked it down. They were soft, full, bouncing as I devoured them, biting gently while she arched into me.

She wasted no time unzipping me, pulling my cock out. “First time?” she smirked, stroking me roughly. I could only nod like an idiot.

In one smooth move, she shoved her jeans and white panty down, kicked them aside, and guided me inside her. No condom. Nothing. She was soaking wet, tight, and burning hot. I thrust in deep, groaning at how good she felt.

We fucked like animals right there in the passage — hard, fast, desperate. She wrapped one leg around me, nails digging into my back as I pounded her against the wall. Dust flew everywhere with every slap of skin.

“Harder, Pratty… yes, like that,” she gasped between moans.

I didn’t last long — it was my first time, after all. A few frantic minutes later I pulled out and came hard across her sweaty belly and camisole. We both collapsed, laughing and coughing in the dust cloud we’d created.

Covered in grime and each other, we cleaned up just enough, then sat on the chatai to devour her tiffin. Hunger hit like a truck after that quickie.

She wanted round two. I laughed weakly: “Babe, I have zero energy left. That was intense.”

She grinned. “I could tell. You always kept distance from girls in class like they’d bite. Me? Lost count after 20. You’re probably my twentieth-something.”

I was stunned. She just shrugged and pulled out her phone — big screen phones were still a novelty. “Let’s watch Udaan. Nice coming-of-age film.”

We cuddled while watching. Her head on my shoulder, jeans still unbuttoned, that dusty white panty peeking out sexily. Then the door creaked open.

The property caretaker walked in. Door wasn’t locked. I froze. Sweeney bolted to the kitchen, jeans slipping halfway down and flashing her panty before she yanked them up.

He smirked. “I’ll call your dad and explain what you two were doing.” Then he left.

Sweeney was terrified on the kitchen platform, legs folded. “He’ll want sex to keep quiet, I just know it.” I hugged her tight, stroking her back and head until she calmed.

We escaped, laughing like idiots once we were clear of the building. She blackmailed me into taking her for a movie so she wouldn’t tell her gossip-girl gang. Turns out the whole class had done a mass bunk — half our batch was sitting right behind us in the theatre.

Evening, Dad was waiting with the newspaper. “Caretaker called. You were alone with a girl in an objectionable position. Took protection, right?”

I laughed nervously. “Protection? Nothing happened, Dad. Trust me.”

He gave me the classic raised-eyebrow stare. “If you make a mess, I’m disowning you. Not the age for this nonsense.”

I followed up with Sweeney about the flat. She always changed the topic and never gave a straight answer. Turns out she never actually wanted the flat — she just wanted a private tour and a very hands-on inspection. Classic Sweeney!

We stayed thick as thieves till final year. The entire batch was convinced we were secretly dating. Little did they know the only “relationship” we had involved one dusty quickie, a shared tiffin, and lifelong blackmail material.

Later that year I got into a proper relationship. Today I’m happily married to that girl (not Sweeney).

Sweeney and I still occasionally like or view each other’s stories on social media — that awkward “seen” zone where we both pretend the Kharghar flat never happened. No messages, no calls. Just two ghosts of a very sweaty, very stupid afternoon.

Every once in a while I catch myself smiling at the memory. My first time: zero technique, maximum dust, and a caretaker who almost got me disowned.

Some stories don’t end with “happily ever after.” They end with “thank God Dad didn’t ask for details.”

The end..