The Night My Husband Shared Me – Part 1: The Balcony

My name is Priya. I am 27 years old, married to Arjun for four years, living in Indiranagar, Bangalore. I work in a software company, I call my mother every Sunday, I make good rasam. I am a completely normal woman.

Except for the thing I do on the balcony at night.

It started small. A year into our marriage I began sleeping in thin cotton sarees at home — no blouse, just the saree draped loosely. I told Arjun it was the Bangalore heat. He believed me. The truth was something I could not explain even to myself — a hunger to be seen, to be caught, to have someone look at me and not be able to look away.

Our flat is on the third floor. The security guard at our gate sits in his booth directly below our balcony. His name is Ramesh. Forties, stocky, always respectful when I pass him in the morning with my laptop bag and my professional smile.

At night he is something else entirely. At night he stares.

The first time I walked out to the balcony at eleven thirty in a sheer white saree with nothing underneath, I told myself I just needed air. I stood at the railing. Looked down. Ramesh looked up. The light from the booth caught his face and I could see his expression clearly — the slow shock of it, the hunger replacing the shock.

I did not move. I did not pull the saree closed. I stood in the warm night air and let him look at my body through the thin fabric and felt something unlock deep in my chest that I had not even known was locked.

My nipples hardened immediately. My thighs pressed together on their own. I felt his stare like a physical thing moving over my skin and I stood completely still and took all of it and felt more alive than I had felt in years.

Five minutes. Then I went inside with my heart slamming and lay down next to sleeping Arjun and stared at the ceiling feeling like I had swallowed fire.

I did it again three nights later. And again. And again.

On the fourth night Arjun caught me.

I did not hear him wake up. I was at the railing with the saree fully open at the front, one hand loose on the railing, my body completely on display in the warm dark, watching Ramesh watch me with his mouth slightly open and his hands gripping his chair arms, when I heard Arjun’s voice directly behind me.

“Priya.”

I spun around. He was standing in the balcony doorway in just his boxers, completely still. His face was unreadable.

A long terrible silence.

Then he stepped forward, took my wrist, and pulled me inside. Closed the balcony door. Stood in front of me in the dark bedroom and looked at me with an expression I had never seen on his face in four years of marriage.

“How long,” he said. Very quiet.

“Four times,” I said. My voice was shaking badly.

Also Read: Making wife a whore

“Did he touch you.”

“No. God no. He just looks.”

“And what does it feel like,” Arjun said. “When he looks at you like that. Tell me exactly.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“Answer me Priya.”

“Like I am on fire,” I said. “Like every single nerve is awake. Like I am the most wanted woman in the world.” I stopped. “I know it is wrong. I know you must be–“

“Stop,” he said. “What else. What else do you want beyond just being watched.”

The air between us went completely still. I could hear my own pulse.

“Tell me,” he said. Quiet but completely firm.

I closed my eyes. Opened them. “I want to be shared,” I whispered. “I have thought about it for so long Arjun. Your friends — Rahul and Karan — I have seen how they look at me — I want them to touch me — I want you to watch while they–” I stopped breathing.

He kissed me so hard I stumbled back into the wall. Both hands in my hair, gripping, not gentle. I grabbed his arms and kissed him back with everything I had and the two years of secret hunger between us collapsed in one single moment.

“You want my friends to fuck you,” he said against my mouth. His voice was low and rough in a way I had never heard before.

“Yes,” I said. My whole body was shaking. “Yes please Arjun–“

“Say it properly. All of it.”

“I want Rahul and Karan to fuck me,” I said out loud for the first time in my life. “I want you to watch. I want to be used by all three of you. I want to be completely–“

He lifted me off the floor and carried me to the bed and dropped me on my back and stood over me with those dark serious eyes.

“Show me,” he said roughly. “Show me exactly what you showed Ramesh.”

I let the saree fall completely open. Lay back fully bare, fully exposed, every inch of me open to his gaze in the bedroom light. His jaw tightened. He looked at me for a long moment — my face, my breasts, my stomach, lower — and I lay completely still under that look and felt the same fire I felt on the balcony, twice as intense.

“Like this?” I said.

“Exactly like that,” he said, and came down over me.

Two hours. The most intense two hours of our four year marriage. He wanted every detail of the fantasy and I gave him all of it out loud in explicit detail while he drove me completely out of my mind again and again. I said things I had never said to another human being. He listened to all of it. He asked for more. He told me I was perfect. He told me exactly what he was going to arrange and what he was going to watch and what he was going to do to me afterward and I came so hard I cried.

Afterward I lay on his chest, completely wrecked, completely free, the secret finally out of my body after two years of carrying it alone.

“Are we really doing this,” I said.

“Tell me you want it,” he said.

“More than anything I have ever wanted,” I said.

“Then we are doing it,” he said simply. Like it was already decided. Like it was already real.

I pressed my face into his neck and for the first time in two years the hunger in my chest felt like something that was finally, finally going to be fed.

Continue reading: The Night My Husband Shared Me – Part 2: Rahul