Then came the day that shattered everything, a cruel twist I never saw coming, leaving me raw, exposed, and drowning in tears. We were back in Patna for a brief reunion, gathered with friends at a noisy café, laughter filling the air as we caught up. Rakesh sat beside me, his hand on my thigh under the table, a secret promise of the wild night ahead—me on my knees, sucking his cock until he came down my throat, or him burying his face in my pussy, licking me until I squirted. But in a moment of careless banter, one of my friends—tipsy on cheap wine—leaned in with a wicked grin and asked, loud enough for the table to hear, “Hey Sana, who’s wilder in bed, your first boyfriend or Rakesh?” The words hung in the air like a thunderclap, my blood turning to ice as Rakesh’s hand froze on my skin, his eyes widening in shock, betrayal flashing across his face like a knife wound.
The world tilted, my heart plummeting into a void of surprise and dread. “What… what do you mean, first boyfriend?” Rakesh stammered, his voice low but edged with a pain that cut me deeper than any blade. The café noise faded, my friends’ giggles dying as they realized the bomb they’d dropped. I reached for his hand, but he pulled away, his eyes searching mine, wide with disbelief. “Sana… you told me you were a virgin. That I was your first.” Tears stung my eyes, my chest tightening as the lie I’d let linger—innocent at first, a spark to fuel his desire—now exploded into a firestorm of hurt. “Rakesh, please, let me explain,” I whispered, my voice breaking, but he shook his head, his face crumpling, a mix of anger and sorrow twisting his features. The surprise hit him like a wave, his world shattering in that instant, the man who’d worshipped my “innocence” now facing the truth that I’d been touched, fucked, claimed by another before him.
We stumbled out of the café, the humid Patna air heavy on my skin, my legs weak as we found a quiet bench by the river, the Ganga’s flow mocking our turmoil. Tears streamed down my face, hot and unrelenting, as Rakesh paced, his voice cracking with emotion. “Why did you lie to me, Sana? Why let me believe I was your first, that our love was pure, untouched?” His words were a plea, laced with the depth of his heartbreak, his eyes red-rimmed, glistening with unshed tears. I sobbed, my body shaking, the weight of my deception crushing me. “I… I didn’t mean to hurt you. It started as nothing, a silly assumption, and I let it go because it made you look at me like I was special. But Rakesh, you are my everything now. The past doesn’t matter.” But it did to him—oh, how it did. His surprise turned to a sad, probing desperation, his questions pouring out like poison, each one a dagger to my soul.
“How did he fuck you, Sana? Tell me everything,” he demanded, his voice trembling, tears finally spilling down his cheeks as he sat beside me, his hands clenched into fists. “Was he better than me? Did he make you scream louder, come harder?” I shook my head, choking on sobs, the trauma of his words ripping through me, forcing me to relive memories I’d buried. “No, Rakesh, please, don’t do this,” I begged, my voice raw, but he pressed on, his heartbreak fueling a cruel curiosity. “What was his dick size? Bigger than mine? Did he fuck your ass, stretch you in ways I haven’t?” Each question was a blow, his voice breaking with sobs, his body trembling as he cried, the man I loved reduced to a wounded boy, lashing out in pain. I curled into myself, tears soaking my shirt, the depth of his betrayal mirroring my own trauma—the way his words made me feel dirty, used, like my past was a stain on our love. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I whispered through my cries, reaching for him, but he flinched away, his face a mask of sorrow and surprise.