The Truth
The Truth About a Marriage
Marriages are hard. It's one of the stupidest things you can do to yourself - binding yourself with one man and woman for the rest of your life. No wonder most marriages don't work. Many end in divorce, but most simply don't work. Yet, it is the ultimate expression of love that we know.
You can live with your girlfriend, have sex with her every night, and even have kids with her, but as long as she's not your "wife," something's missing. Nothing should change, though, after a piece of paper is signed or after going around seven times around a havan kund. But it changes couples. You might have been doing the dirtiest and sexiest things to each other in bed, but a marital bed is different. I am not the first writer to ponder the difficulties of marriage, and I certainly won't be the last one.
Some people confuse marriage with a wedding. A wedding is for a day, but a marriage is supposed to last a lifetime. Planning a wedding is tough, for sure, but marriages are tougher.
This is a story of a marriage, a cold one. Nothing is unique about a cold marriage (it's sad, but it's the truth). In a story, there are usually three acts: the setup, the confrontation, and finally the resolution. If the setup is a cold marriage and the whole problem at hand is to deal with the cold marriage, then the resolution will be to spice it up, right? Isn't that the advertisement for every sex toy store, every sex guide, and even a sex story? I encourage people to read my stories with their partners (the unsexiest word in the dictionary). I tell them that it will spice up their relationship.
Men take boner pills, and women buy lace lingerie to spice up their marriages. The wife tells the husband that she would have cum hard if only he had lasted a few more seconds. The husband tells the wife that he would have been harder if she had sucked him better and if only she knew how to ride him, play with her breasts as he fucked her, and moaned more. If only. They would be happier. It was as simple as that.
People try these things every night, every afternoon, behind closed doors, quietly fighting to keep their marital embers from being snuffed out by the eventual dread of familiarity. There are dozens of ways to spice things up, but none of them always work.
This is a story about Ahana and Dhruv. Like countless couples, they love each other, live together, eat together, and sleep together. They have sex too, at least once a month, or else it leads to uncomfortable questions they have to ask each other. After four years of marriage, they have never discussed having kids or buying a new house. That would be too much discussion, and too many arguments.
They smile at each other all the time, hold hands, and when they are naked together (which is at least once a month), they work on their marriage. If they were not married, they would still love each other, live together, and sleep together. But would they get naked in front of each other? Would Ahana ask him to fuck her? Would Dhruv drool over her naked body?
Yes, this is a story about how they spice up their marriage. But we start at a time when they had already finished reading all the sex books they could find, tried the slutty nurse outfits, the steel dildos, the strapons, the anal plugs, and the cock rings. We start at a point of equilibrium, between love and dread. Love for each other and dread that they do not love each other enough.
They had just turned 30, and at that age, love is not the only thing that should hold you to a man. It should also be how often he makes you cum, how often you suck his cock and swallow his cum like a good girl, and how often he fucks you so hard that your back aches. Ahana knew this. Dhruv knew this too. Yet, denial is a powerful thing, an easy and potent coping mechanism.
So when Ahana's friend asked her why she had a glow on her face, she did not tell her that it was because she changed her moisturizer. She told her, "It was a long night." When Dhruv's colleagues complained about not getting enough sex over drinks, Dhruv said that his wife always made sure that he left the house with empty balls.
Ahana and Dhruv met on OkCupid. Ahana was 25, and Dhruv was two years older than her. Their first date was unremarkable by both their standards. Ahana didn't get wet looking at Dhruv's muscular forearms, and Dhruv didn't get hard looking at Ahana's plunging neckline.
They both had been dating since the early years of college (different people, that is). They both came from money. They wouldn't find out how similar they were until their third date, when they were cuddling in a Hilton Suite, because Dhruv had never stayed anywhere except suites, and Ahana always wanted a big bathroom in her hotel rooms.
Maybe it was their similarities that brought them close. Checking into hotels became a chore, and there were only a handful of five-star suites in Bombay that they could check into before having to repeat hotels.
So, over breakfast in a posh eatery in Bandra, Dhruv asked Ahana if she would move in with him. Ahana got emotional, just the right amount, and they moved in the next month, three months after their first date.
Both sets of parents of this overachieving couple were too busy to say more than "You should not rush these things." Ahana and Dhruv hosted both sets of parents for dinner, first separately and then together, to show the parents and themselves that they weren't rushing things.
Each of these dinners was pleasurable, with Ahana impressing Dhruv's parents with her knowledge of Indian politics and her obsession with interior decoration. The fact that she was an in-house lawyer at a Fortune 500 company, with a 5-floor office in the Indiabulls building, was a plus in her favor. Dhruv was equally impressive with his extensive knowledge of the upcoming AI revolution (and how it was already here) and his love for football, chess, and Fortnite.
Each time the parents left, Ahana and Dhruv fucked on the same couch where their parents were sitting, before even picking up the glasses and plates left from dinner. Ahana didn't eat much during these dinners because she knew that Dhruv would push her head against the edge of the couch and fuck her face till she gagged. She had gotten better at sucking Dhruv, especially to let her throat take his dick deep inside her throat. But Dhruv had the habit of showing her that there's always more space to push into her throat.
Dhruv didn't drink much during these dinners because he knew that Ahana liked him rock-hard. She liked to ride him on the couch, she liked to sit on his dick and fuck him, looking behind. She would throw her ass down at him, sometimes so hard and so quick that even half an inch's miss would mean an injury to his dick. It helped if he stayed hard and in his senses when she fucked him.
They hosted their friends too. Their apartment was too posh to be just a place for the two to fuck. A memorable dinner was when Dhruv invited his colleague Manan and his girlfriend, Ishita. They were charming, especially Ishita, who made it a point to laugh at each of Dhruv's quips and adjust her glasses while keeping eye contact. She let her fingers linger a little too long on his thighs. Dhruv saw Manan noticing his girlfriend's flirting and the touches to Dhruv's thighs, which were getting closer and closer to his crotch. But Manan only smiled at him.
Ahana insisted that they play some music and dance. Dhruv wasn’t much of a dancer, but Manan was more than happy to dance with Ahana, taking every opportunity to touch her waist. Manan even managed to grind his crotch against Ahana’s ass.
Dhruv tried his best to appear jealous, but it wasn’t easy given how close Ishita was sitting to him. She even put her arm around his neck. Ishita was drunk, but not drunk enough to twerk. But she did, to a Nicki Minaj song, right in front of Dhruv’s face. If it weren’t for the twerk, Dhruv wouldn’t have noticed how well Ishita’s kurta fit her, or how bubbly her ass looked in the black leggings that she was wearing.
Ahana was having her share of fun too, with Manan, looking awfully promiscuous in her tight white tank top and jogger pants. Every time she moved too quickly, her red bra would show up, whenever she was mamba-in too hard.
Dhruv would have taken offense when he saw Manan lay his fingers on Ahana’s bare belly so deep that Dhruv could see Manan’s finger dig into his girlfriend’s flesh.
But right then, Ishita had sat on his lap, saying that she was so tired from dancing. She ground her ass on his crotch, feeling up an obvious erection. She laughed and cheered on Manan and Ahana, who were dancing intimately in the middle of the living room.
Manan and Ishita left late at night. They were still in the parking lot when Dhruv was eating out Ahana. He had peeled off her top. Ahana was on the couch, her legs spread apart, her jogger and panty lying in a puddle beside her feet. She liked being eaten out on the couch, with Dhruv’s head between her legs. Dhruv would strip down naked when he did this. He would stroke his dick and lick Ahana, where he knew she liked it.
Ahana liked their reflection on the 55” TV in front of them. She liked how she looked with the head of her boyfriend between her legs, her back slouched, barely dressed. She liked seeing the reflection of Dhruv’s back, seeing how his muscles flexed when he buried his face deeper into her.
When Dhruv started fucking her, Ahana was surprised how hard he was. They had fucked countless times before, but that night, Dhruv wasn’t himself. He fucked her on the couch, where he and Ishita were sitting. He fucked her while holding her legs apart.
He usually finished on her thighs, but that night, Dhruv finished inside her. Ahana didn’t mind because she came too right when he was filling her up with his hot cum. It made her feel sluttier, stickier.
They didn’t talk about it much, but that night in bed when Ahana was asleep, naked under the sheets, Dhruv caressed her forehead. He loved her. He loved her more than he did the day before. She was his. She was sleeping with his cum inside her. When he came though, when he filled Ahana up with his hot cum, he was thinking of Ishita’s butt and how his face would look buried inside it.
If you liked reading so far, consider supporting After a Good Date, by buying me a coffee or buying one of my eBooks or Art Packs on my Gumroad.
Dhruv decided to propose to her. He was 28, and she was 26. Not too young to be married, but not too old that they had to be married.
On his way back from a tennis game the next morning, Dhruv went to a Tanishq outlet and bought Ahana the most expensive diamond ring in the store. They gave it to him in a blue box. He texted Ahana that he would make her dinner that evening.
When it was just the two of them, Ahana and Dhruv were rarely fully dressed. Dhruv would lounge around in short boxers, so short that he could easily fish out his dick from the side of the shorts without taking them off. Ahana would be fully covered but in a satin dress with loose thin straps, ending just halfway to her thigh, and without underwear or a bra. The satin made her nipples hard, and the strap would often slide off her shoulder, exposing much of her breast. When Dhruv wanted to have sex with her, all he had to do was lift her dress and pull the straps down a little. She would have her breasts out and her legs wide open, ready for Dhruv to take him inside.
That evening, Ahana was sitting on the couch, flipping through Netflix titles in her mauve satin dress, with an off-shoulder strap and hard nipples. Dhruv was making his customary Zatar rice with chicken sausages, bare-chested and sweaty even when the AC in the living room was blasting (which is why Ahana’s nipples were hard). His boxers didn’t have pockets, so he had to go inside the bedroom, making an excuse to carry the ring in his closed palms. Ahana had poured out the wine and was adjusting the cutlery when Dhruv kissed her neck.
“I have to tell you something,” he said, taking one of the straps of her dress down.
Ahana reached back, immediately finding his dick and squeezing it. “I know what you have to say. Let’s eat first, then I can suck you. If I let you have your way, the food would go cold, and when I eat all this that you cooked, I’d taste your cum more than the food.”
“No, there’s something else,” he turned her around.
He took a deep breath and held her hands. Ahana’s strap had slipped, exposing half of one of her breasts.
“I love you, and I realized last night that I want you all to myself, for now and forever,” Dhruv said.
“Oh my God,” Ahana gasped.
Right then, just like in rom-coms old and new, Dhruv went down on his knee and offered her the ring.
Ahana extended her hand, and he put the ring on her finger.
I love interacting with my readers. Let me know what you liked (or didn’t). You can always DM me on my Reddit (u/iskinky92).
After dinner, when Dhruv was fucking Ahana from behind, she studied the ring more closely. It was an incredible diamond. She threw herself back harder on Dhruv’s dick. She realized that Dhruv was getting close, his dick hardening inside her. Ahana was about to make her fiancee cum for the first time.
Dhruv and Ahana got married in the Taj Mahal Palace in Colaba, six months after that evening. It was a small ceremony, with just 30 people in attendance, including Manan and Ishita. Manan didn’t understand why Dhruv thanked him for making everything possible.
Dhruv and Ahana fucked as husband and wife in a Taj suite, just like their hotel check-ins. She wore bangles that night and made it a point to move around her wrists. She never wore bangles or any such jewelry before. But on the day of the wedding, she had insisted that she would wear the bangles, and even if there weren’t any pheras, Dhruv would put sindoor on her forehead.
That night, she made Dhruv cum on her face. The first spurt from Dhruv landed not very far from the sindoor. Ahana was traditional that way.
After that, Dhruv went down on her, and licked his wife’s clit, till she came. They cuddled later, naked, with Ahana being a little sticky near her forehead and cheek. They quickly fell asleep, tired from fucking for close to half an hour.
They fucked that long because Dhruv couldn’t cum for a while that night. He was hard of course, and Ahana was very agreeable, edging him on, saying “Please fuck me, husband,” as she twisted her nipples and spread her legs wider for Dhruv.
But it didn’t do it for him. He saw Ahana, with her hands still red from mehendi, her face still had a tinge of make-up, she looked beautiful, especially with that little mark of sindoor on her forehead. No matter how much he tried to look at his wife and fuck her, he couldn’t come close to finishing.
Ahana, like any good wife, understood her husband’s problem and asked him to pull out and cum on her face.
As she knelt on the floor, restless and touching herself all over her body, Dhruv closed his eyes and stroked his dick. He thought of Ishita at the wedding. Ishita had come wearing a blue kurta. To highlight the fact that it was a wedding, she was wearing one which had sparkles on her chest. It only made you want to look at her breasts more. Dhruv and Ishita had a moment, in the crowded room, their eyes locked onto each other. They had smiled, before Dhruv got busy, shaking hands with everyone else at the wedding, congratulating him.
When he came, he was thinking about Ishita, on her knees, with her glasses still on. He was thinking of her, still in her blue kurta, making the noises and moans that Ahana did.
The story is far from over. The rest of story is contained only in the eBook. If you liked reading the story so far, you will love how it ends. It’s also a way to support me, so that I can keep more and more Indian erotic content free!
If you liked reading so far, you would love the kind of content that’s regularly published here on After a Good Date. Subscribe! It’s entirely free!
After a Good Date is a reader supported publication. There are no ads, no sponsorship and no paid tier subscription. All the content here is free. I can do that only because of the generosity of my readers. If you liked reading this story, consider making a small donation at my Buy Me a Coffee page.
If you want to get more out of After a Good Date, consider becoming a Member at my Buy Me a Coffee page or being a patron at my Patreon. Please and thank you!
