Hello, my name is Archana. I am now 30 years old. I work as a teacher. It has been 10 years since my marriage. I live happily with my husband. My husband loves me a lot. However, we have not had a child so far. This causes me immense sorrow.
But there’s no solution. We have tried many hospitals. Despite numerous treatments, nothing has worked.
My friend Neha runs an Ayurvedic clinic in a remote hilly area. It is 150 km away from my city. Finally, I decided to visit her. She was a very close friend. We used to have open-hearted conversations with each other.
My husband stayed outside, and I went in. She called me inside. She examined all my reports.
“Lie down on the table,” she said to me.
She examined me and said, “You’re perfectly healthy. Whatever the issue is, it’s with your husband. You can become a mother anytime.”
“I know that, dear. Suggest a solution for him,” I said.
“Alright, first answer some of my questions,” she said.
“How many times do you do it in a day?” she asked.
“I don’t understand,” I replied.
“I mean, how many times does your husband sleep with you in a day?” she clarified.
“Oh, dear, not every day—twice a week,” I said.
“Okay, then you will have a child,” she said.
“I don’t get it. What do you mean?” I asked.
“Don’t act childish now. It’s been 10 years since your marriage. You’re not a kid anymore. Don’t you need regular sex to have a child?” she explained.
“Look, we’ve tried a lot of treatments, both for him and me, but nothing has worked. For the past 10 years, we’ve been trying treatments. We’re tired now,” I said.
“That’s why I’m saying, forget all these files and treatments. Find a 25-year-old strong young man who will sleep with you three times a day—morning, afternoon, evening. Then see if you have a son or not. Think about it and let me know. I have boys if you need them,” she said straightforwardly.
“But where do you get these boys from?” I asked.
“Some boys fail their exams. Some chase girls and go through breakups. Such boys come to me for counselling. They need girlfriends. Girls like you need boyfriends. I arrange meetings for them. If it works out, keep the friendship; if not, forget it,” she explained.
“Oh, really? That’s something! Come on, you’re joking with me. At this age, what will I do with someone?” I said.
“You will, dear. Becoming a mother is your right, too, isn’t it?” she said.
She added, “Wait, I’ll show you an example so you’ll believe me.”
She immediately dialled a number on her phone and said, “Hi, Tushar, are you free? Can you come to the hospital? I have a friend who wants to meet you.”
After saying this, she hung up.
“Just wait outside for a bit. He’ll be here in 5 minutes,” she told me.
I went outside and sat next to my husband.
He said to me, “I know nothing will happen, but we’ve come here for your satisfaction.”
I stayed quiet, but I felt hopeful. After 15 minutes, the doctor called me inside.
“Lie down, I’ll give you an injection,” she said.
“What injection is it?” I asked as I climbed onto the table.
“It’s just a vitamin injection,” she said, showing me a huge injection.
Seeing such a big injection, I was terrified, but I didn’t show it on my face. I lay on the table and pulled the green curtain. I loosened my saree’s pleats, untied my petticoat, and slid my underwear down a bit. I lay on my left side, waiting for her.
After 5 minutes, she came with the injection in one hand. She pulled my already-lowered underwear further down, almost exposing both my buttocks. She rubbed a lot of spirit on my right buttock. It felt cool and nice. She rubbed for a while and then quickly inserted the needle.
I bit my lower lip with my upper teeth, winced, and jerked my right leg.
“Keep your leg straight, don’t move, or the injection will get stuck in your butt,” she shouted.
It burned a lot, but I didn’t say anything. I closed my eyes and endured the pain. After two minutes, she removed the injection and started rubbing the spot. When I looked back, I saw that in the struggle, my entire saree had slipped from my waist, and my whole backside was exposed.
I turned red with embarrassment. Finally, she rubbed and rubbed, gave a slap, and pulled back the green curtain. I got up, tied my saree, adjusted my clothes, and sat on the chair in front of her. She was writing prescriptions. Just then, a 25-year-old boy came in and sat next to me.
“Come, sit, I was waiting for you,” she said to him.
“Anything special?” he asked.
“This is my friend Archana. She lives separately from her husband. She’s looking for a friend. That’s why I called you to introduce you,” she said.
“And Archana, this is Tushar. He’s in the final year of B.A.M.S. He was looking for a female friend. I thought you two could hit it off, so I called him.”
“Namaste,” he said, extending his hand for a handshake.
I also extended my hand. His handshake was so firm and perfect that my underwear started getting wet.
“Alright, now you sit outside. I’ll call you back in a bit,” she told the boy, and he went out to sit.
“Look, my treatment will cost one lakh rupees. Fifty thousand upfront, and fifty thousand after you conceive. And don’t reveal your real identity to him. Only say what I tell you. Got it? The rest is business,” she said.
“But one lakh is too much,” I said.
“How much have you spent so far?” she asked.
“In ten years, I must have spent at least 25 lakhs,” I said.
“See, this treatment is just one lakh,” she replied.
“But what if someone finds out?” I raised a concern.
“No one will know anything. He’ll come to me for practice, taking a month off. I have 15 doctors and over 50 staff members. You’ll stay here as a patient for a month. Who will know what treatment you’re undergoing? And your treatment will happen in a special ICU,” she said, laughing.
“What do you mean, how can I stay for a month?” I asked.
“Look, to conceive, you need to have intercourse for at least 30 nights, you fool,” she clarified.
“But what will I tell my husband?” I asked.
“You don’t tell him anything; I’ll handle him. Just tell me if you like the boy or not,” she said, winking at me.
I turned red with embarrassment.
“Oh! The girl’s blushing, so should we take that as a yes?” she teased. “Alright, go sit outside with your husband. I’ll call the boy in and get one lakh from him too,” she told me.
“From him for what?” I asked.
“What, you’re letting a rich boy like him enjoy you for 24 hours for 30 days, shouldn’t there be a charge for that? He’s from a wealthy family, don’t worry about him. And yes, don’t ever tell him you’re doing this for a child. Otherwise, he’ll get emotionally attached and chase you. The child thing stays between us, okay? Go sit outside now; I’ll call you and your husband in a bit.”
Later, I went outside and sat. After an hour, she called me and my husband inside. When we went in, she asked us to sit.
Looking at my husband, she said, “Look, Sir, Archana is my childhood friend. We practice naturopathy here. Various doctors come to us, and we use natural methods like decoctions, herbs, meditation, yoga, pranayama, massage, and applying pastes as a collective treatment approach. We don’t look at past reports or give any reports. We do minimal blood tests. Many girls have come here for a month-long treatment and have conceived. Some haven’t, though. Look, Sir, the cost is one lakh rupees, and she’ll need to stay here for a month for the treatment. You can think it over and let us know. But Archana wants this. You’ve tried so much already; what’s the harm in trying this once?”
My husband said, “Alright, we’ll think about it and let you know.”
At that moment, a nurse came and took my blood sample. After a while, we went outside and sat. After 15 minutes, she called me back inside. The boy was sitting there, and I sat next to him.
“Hi, what’s up, madam? What does your husband say?” she asked me.
“Nothing, we’re still thinking,” I said.
“Your blood reports are normal, both of yours. You can have intercourse without worry. Here, look at the reports. Alright, you two talk in the inner room. I’ll see patients in the meantime,” she said.
I felt very awkward. We both went to the inner room. He sat far from me.
“What’s your WhatsApp number?” he asked me.
I gave him my number, and he gave me his. But we didn’t talk much.
He asked me simple questions like my name, village, what my husband does, and how long we’ve been separated. I didn’t give truthful answers, as Neha had instructed. After all, a hidden truth is worth more, isn’t it?
After some time, my friend appeared.
“So, has your friendship started or not?” she asked.
“Come on, why are you shy? It’s been ten years since your marriage; shouldn’t you take the initiative?” she said to me.
I sat quietly, looking down.
“Hey, did you show her what I told you to?” she shouted at him.
“No,” he said.
“You don’t hide the pot when you go to the market, kid. Go stand next to her,” she told him.
He came and stood next to me. I didn’t know what was happening.
“Now take off your pants,” she said.
He unbuttoned his pants, pulled down the zipper, and, along with his underwear, dropped his pants to his knees. His massive 8-inch erection stood in front of my face, hard as iron. I looked at it and got a shock. It was three times the size of my husband’s. I stared at it in awe, then looked down in embarrassment.
“Look, your queen is blushing. She’s given her approval. Now go sit outside,” she told him.
He put on his pants and went outside.
“See, I showed you everything I needed to. Now you and your husband think it over and decide. If you agree, come back for a month after your period,” she said.
I went home, and all I could think about was his erection. That night, I must have gone to the bathroom 15 times. My husband was fast asleep, but I was restless all night, tossing and turning, fingering myself. Around midnight, I got a WhatsApp message from him.
“Hi.”
Me: Hi
Him: Had dinner?
Me: Yes
Him: What are you doing now?
Me: Lying down.
Him: I can’t sleep.
Me: Why?
Him: Thinking of you.
Me: Hmm
Him: Your husband must have…
Me: What?
Him: Nothing.
Me: You were saying something about my husband, right?
Him: No, nothing.
Me: You said something about “zha…” didn’t you?
Him: If you don’t like dirty talk…
Me: I do, but…
Him: Oh, your husband must have slept with you.
Me: We live separately; didn’t Neha tell you?
Him: Oh, I forgot, sorry.
Me: Alright, go to sleep now.
I teased him, and he went to sleep. So, did I.
The next day, my husband went to work, and I finished my household chores and sat down. At noon, I got another message from him.
What are you doing?
Me: Nothing, just sitting.
Him: Where?
Me: On the bed.
Him: Can I shake the bed?
Me: Hmm
Him: By the way, what do you like?
Me: Meaning?
Him: In sex.
Me: What do you like?
Him: Everything.
Me: Everything, like what?
Him: Like, from the front, from the back.
I was terribly embarrassed, but my underwear was getting wet.
Just then, my friend called.
“Hey, has your period started?” she asked.
“Not yet,” I replied.
“So, have you decided? What does your husband say?” she asked again.
“Not yet,” I said.
“Tell me once you’re sure,” she said.
“Okay,” I said and hung up.
In the evening, when my husband came home, I decided to bring up the topic. He came home late. After dinner, we went to the bedroom. As soon as we entered the bedroom, I put my hand in his underwear and grabbed his erection, slowly stroking it. He started kissing me frantically.
His saliva covered my mouth, cheeks, and lips. He kissed me like a child, sucking my nose, cheeks, lips, and mouth, turning them red. He bit my lips hard. Then he lifted my saree, pulled my underwear to my knees, and started licking my pussy.
He quickly positioned his erection at my entrance, removed my blouse, and pulled up my bra. He started pressing my breasts hard. It hurt, but then, when I was off guard, he gave a strong thrust, and his erection slid inside me. He started pounding me rapidly. It was my moment.
“Let me try one last treatment at my friend’s place, for a month,” I said coyly, stroking his testicles.
I knew I had chosen the perfect moment. He couldn’t say no because his erection was inside me. That’s the power of this two-inch opening—women can get anything from men with it. Wars have been fought over it, and I knew it. I brought up the topic at the right time.
He couldn’t refuse while he was inside me. While he was still thrusting, he said, “Alright, darling, if you want it so badly, go for the treatment. I have no objection. We’ll go to her next week.”
As soon as he agreed, I lifted my hips and thanked him. This excited him, and he started pounding me harder. I lifted my hips to match him, and our rhythm synced. The room filled with sounds of “pach pach,” “rap rap,” “khap khap.”
“Fuck me hard, tear me apart, go deep, deeper, fuck me, you fuck so well, my king,” I said, putting my nipple in his mouth.
He was in full swing now, pounding me with “rap rap,” “khap khap,” “dan dan.”
“Ahh… ahh… ooh… ooh… ee… ee… huh… huh…” I screamed, biting my lower lip. I was being thoroughly ravaged under him. He was fucking me like a raging bull, and I was writhing like a mare in heat.
Finally, he increased his speed, grabbed my buttocks tightly with both hands, and I couldn’t move. He started hitting me with rapid shots. My waist felt like it would break. My breasts were shaking wildly. He leaned down and bit my nipples, causing them to burn.
“Oh, I’m dying!” I screamed.
Whichever side I turned to, he fucked me on that side.
He increased his speed to the maximum.
“Ahh… ahh… ho… my… ugh… ugh…” I started thrashing, screaming.
With one final powerful thrust, he released inside me, holding my boobs tightly until the last drop. I lifted my hips to meet him, savouring that peak moment in my heart.
Four or five days later, my period started.
The next day, I called Neha, “Hey, Neha, my husband agreed.”
“Great, when are you coming?” she asked.
“In four or five days, my period started yesterday. After it’s over,” I said.