Seven months passed in a blur of routine, pressure, and secret nights.
From the humid June arrival to the cold January winds of Lucknow, life for the three boys settled into a grinding but strangely satisfying rhythm. School at Pioneer Academy, evening coaching at Apex IIT till 9 pm, back to the Saket Vihar flat, quick dinner, and then the sacred hours after 10:30 when the new HP laptop glowed in the dark bedroom.
They had made new friends — both male and female. There was Ananya from their school batch, a pretty and talkative girl who sometimes joined their canteen group with her friends. There was also Megha from the coaching batch, sharp-minded and competitive, who studied with them during doubt sessions. The trio hung out with these girls in groups — laughing, sharing notes, even going for chaat or movies on rare off days. Light flirting happened. Numbers were exchanged. But nothing crossed the line. No girlfriend for any of them. No sex. No real relationships.
All they had was porn.
Every single night, almost without fail, the three of them gathered on the pushed-together beds. The laptop screen lit their faces as they watched everything from hardcore MILF scenes to threesomes to rough domination videos. Their conversations grew bolder with time. Himanshu openly said he wanted to fuck an experienced older woman who would take control. Ajay confessed fantasies of sharing one woman between friends. Divyansh, as always, spoke last but honestly — he kept coming back to older women, control, and the idea of someone who knew exactly what she wanted. They masturbated openly in front of each other now, no shame left. Their bond had become something deeper and more twisted than ordinary friendship. They knew each other’s kinks, sizes, and favourite fantasies better than anyone else alive.
But real sex remained a line none of them had crossed.
Until one night in late December, Divyansh crossed it alone.
It was after a particularly bad mock test at coaching. He felt frustrated, horny, and restless. While Himanshu and Ajay were sleeping, he quietly left the flat, took an auto to a dimly lit area on the outskirts that locals whispered about, and walked into one of the small, dingy rooms behind a narrow lane. He chose an older woman in her late thirties — exactly the type that matched the fantasies they watched. He paid, went inside, but the moment she undressed and touched him, his body betrayed him. Nerves, guilt, and months of only watching instead of doing made him soft. He couldn’t perform. He finished awkwardly, paid extra out of embarrassment, and left quickly.
A few days later the itching started.
First in his pubic hair, then spreading slightly. Intense, unbearable itching, especially at night. One evening in the bathroom he shone his phone light on his groin and froze in horror. Small, crab-like insects were moving in his pubic hair. Pubic lice. And a couple of tiny ticks too — probably from the dirty bedding and the woman’s room. He had brought them back like a shameful souvenir.
