Adultery The Language of Her Heart

[Krish World]

Short and sweet writing

[xossissippi]

And Kartik…
He didn’t say anything.
Not during the party.
Not after.
Not now.
Just that one pause earlier. That hesitation.
Did he like it?
Was he aroused?
Or confused?
He didn’t touch me.
Didn’t sit close at the party.
Didn’t glance again once we got home.

Yepp the hubby could definitely be aroused.

He's looking at a new version of Pavitra, her beauty too intimidating, an "absolute fucking goddess". He is thinking "Is this goddess really my wife? who not only agreed to marry loser like me, but also allowed me to impregnate her??, that too twice with my lousy 5 second sex?" "I must be the luckiest loser in the world."

He's contemplating if he even deserve such a goddess?? And after tonight's party, his self-confidence would've shattered the most, as he can see many suitors fascinated by her beauty like 'a moth to a flame!' He himself starting to feel undeserved of such a spectacle of a women, so he sat as far away from her at the party.

He saw many men and women, including the oldest and the fattest men and even the low class cleaners couldn't stop staring at his wife as if they were hypnotized by her. He saw how these men didn't miss an opportunity to stare down into her cleavage while pretending to give birthday wishes and presents to their kids.

He took a breather and stood at the corner of room observing how even some of the ugly old uncles were taking pictures of her, some even getting too close with their elbows subtly probing her delicious mounds of breasts from the side, on the pretext of taking a selfie.

His dick getting erected as he saw all of these unfolding in front of his eyes... He looked at his wife's face only to see a radiant face with innocent look yet seductive expressions, as if she's too naive to make out what is going on around her... He saw the wife's of these uncles giving an expression of discontent and some in shock and awe, some in admiration.

He probably may develop cuckold tendency after these hot encounters

And here I am, lying under a soft blanket… but my nipples still hard.
Still aching.
God, I want someone to bite them.
To suck, not just grab. Lick like they belong to him.
I want my boobs treated like something other than background furniture.
My pussy was wet during the entire party.
No one knew. No one saw.
But I could feel it.
I was dripping inside that gown.
Every step made my inner thighs brush against each other.
Every smile I gave was hiding a throbbing between my legs.

---

Now I’m in this nightie.
Cotton. Soft. Loose.
And still…
I can feel it.
That slow pull. That needy pulse.
I want fingers. Not mine.
I want a tongue.
I want someone to spread my legs and ask, "Do you want more?"
And not stop until my moan fills the room.

I bet after this party, many men and women's perspective might have changed towards Pavitra. They would finally start acknowledging her beauty, some will start looking at her like a hot object, especially these lecherous old uncles. These old hounds must've definitely 'smelled' her arousal in the party. This 'gown' has now become a green signal, a beacon, the morse code or a 'mating call' for these ugly bastards to go after her, to go after the 'source of smell', that 'Pavitra is no longer off-limits.'

After a long night of masturbation looking at the party pictures, these uncles would soon start scheming variety of plots and deceits to get her under, to give her the 'ploughing' she deserves, to ravage her body and mind, to fill their seed inside her, to impregnate her with many many offspring, as her beautiful body is 'built' for it!

Very soon Pavitra's longing for raw unbridled sex is going to come true...

Keep going Yazhini!!

[masud93]

regular update dena,,,pehle pehle thuda jiyada

[masud93]

plot accha aur erotic lagta hai,,,keep update

[sexycharan]

Slow transformation, waiting to see who is going to fuck her brains out.

[yazhiniram]

What a party...
It wasn’t some grand event.
No violinists. No slow-motion lighting.
Just a typical gated community birthday — paper plates, balloons tied with tired strings, kids screaming over chocolate pastries, aunties holding purses like shields.
But still…
It wasn’t normal.
Not for me.
Because tonight… I wasn’t the normal Pavitra.

---

The moment I stepped in, I felt it.
That hush.
That one-second silence when conversations didn’t stop — they just… slowed.
Eyes turned.
Not like, “Who is that?”
But more like, “Is that Pavitra?”
A few women looked first.
Then the men.
Then their eyes darted back to juice cups or plates, pretending nothing shifted.
But I felt it.
That invisible current brushing over me.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
But warm.
Present.

---

I stood straight. Gown brushing against my thighs.
Tried not to adjust the neckline too obviously.
Tried not to pull the hem down when the breeze touched my knees.
One hand on my clutch. Smile fixed.
Body aching with awareness.
Not fear.
Not guilt.
Just that raw fucking throb of being seen.
My pussy clenched the moment the first man’s eyes flicked across my chest.
He looked away immediately — but I caught it.
So did my nipples.
They hardened, alive under the fabric, brushing softly, begging for attention.

---

And then… I saw her.
Radhika Akka.
Looking graceful as always. Casual kurti, hair open, eyes lined thick. Laughing near the juice counter with her trademark confidence.
And beside her—
Raj Anna.
Calm. Tall. Same old-college full-sleeve shirt tucked neatly.
But his presence?
Like a quiet storm.
Never loud. Never flirty. Just… solid. Masculine.
My shoulders relaxed the moment I saw him.
Like my body knew — If he looks at me tonight… it will matter.
I gave a tiny wave.

---

Radhika turned. Her face lit up.
“Paviiii! Wow… look at you!”
She came straight to me, held my hand with a teasing squeeze.
“You look amazing! I was expecting your usual cotton saree or simple chudi.”
I smiled. A little blush crept up my chest.
“Just… felt like trying something different today.”
“Tried something new? Looks great on you.”
She laughed, turning to my kids to ask about cake and balloons.
I was still adjusting my hair near my shoulder when I felt a presence step closer.

---

Raj.
One hand holding a paper cup.
His smile wasn’t wide.
It was gentle. Slow.
Like he’d seen something he didn’t want to look away from too quickly.
“Hey Pavitra… you look… really nice. Gorgeous, actually.”
My heart paused.
Not skipped.
Paused.
Because that word?
"Gorgeous."
Fuck.
When was the last time anyone called me that?
And said it like they fucking meant it?
Not “cute.”
Not “sweet.”
Not “you’ve lost weight.”
Not “nice dress.”
But gorgeous.
He didn’t blink after saying it.
Didn’t look embarrassed.
Didn’t scan my body again.
He just said it.
And left it hanging in the air.
Like a soft moan no one apologizes for.

---

I gave a small smile.
Looked down like a good girl.
“Thanks… anna.”
Anna.
Still.
Always.
But the way he said “gorgeous” made my panties stick to me.
My cunt was wet.
Right there.
At a kids’ birthday party.
And not from some touch.
Not from anything dirty.
Just… one word.
One man.
Saying it like he actually saw me.

---

He turned away.
Helped his wife with return gifts.
That was it.
No drama.
No flirt.
Just a passing moment.
But it stayed.

---

The rest of the evening passed in noise.
Kartik was near the cake table, talking to some other guys. Laughing. Normal.
He didn’t say anything about my dress.
Not during the party.
Not in the lift.
Not even once we came home.
Maybe he didn’t notice.
Or maybe… he didn’t have the words.
But Raj did.
He saw the curve of my hips.
The outline of my thighs.
The neckline that dipped just enough to make someone stare.
And instead of pretending he didn’t feel anything…
He named it.

---

And now, lying in this bed…
Cotton nightie.
No bra.
Panty a little damp.
One word is echoing inside me.
Gorgeous.

---

I ran my hand down my thigh, slowly.
Just tracing. Not touching.
But my nipples were already begging again.
I kept my legs pressed.
But my pussy?
It pulsed. Hot. Slow.
That man said “gorgeous” like he could smell my hunger under the perfume.

---

And I wonder now…
If he touched me…
Would he say it again?
Would he whisper it against my skin?
Would he pull my dress down, not to fuck me—
But to admire me?
And would I moan when he finally put that slow, steady mouth on my tits?

---

I shift under the blanket.
Don’t touch.
Just feel.
Because tonight wasn’t just a party.
It was proof.
That I still exist.
That someone sees me.
And wants to look again.

[yazhiniram]

Raj anna…
So tall.
Easily 6'2, maybe more.
It’s not just the height. It’s the way it carries itself.
Calm. Grounded. A quiet strength that doesn’t ask for attention… but still holds it.
Even today—standing beside Radhika—he looked like something out of place. Or maybe, something that belonged everywhere.
Radhika was laughing, adjusting the collar of his shirt like it was habit. The way her fingers moved, her smile steady—like love was stitched into those little things.
And me?
I was just watching.
Not staring.
Just… watching.
Quietly.
From where I stood. Gown brushing my knees. Clutch warm in my hand.

---

He speaks gently. Always has.
Doesn’t take space.
But somehow… he fills it.
Like when he walks into a room, the air changes.
Not heavy. Not loud. Just… aware.
That word again.
“Gorgeous.”
Still echoing in my chest.
The tone of it.
The certainty.
Not a flirty compliment.
Not a comment thrown out to make a woman smile.
He said it like he meant it.
Like it wasn’t just about the gown.
Like it was about me.

---

Kartik is around 5'8.
He’s steady. Soft-spoken. Smart in his own right.
But he doesn’t command a room.
He blends in. Comfortable. Safe.
And me?
I’m 5'7.
Just tall enough that I always felt… equal.
With Kartik, I walk beside him. Same level. Sometimes even taller if I wear certain sandals.
And I’ve noticed… I avoid it.
Not because he complains.
He never does.
But somewhere deep inside, something adjusts without permission.
But next to Raj?
God.
I’d feel small.
Smaller in a way that doesn’t make me weak.
Feminine, maybe. Soft. Tucked under something solid.
Like… if he placed a hand behind my back, I wouldn’t even flinch.
I’d lean in.

---

Aiyo… Pavitra.
What are you even thinking?
Stop.
This is Kavita’s fault.
Her voice in my head all week—
“If I had your waist, I’d never wear a saree again.”, “Varun held me for Ten minutes. I thought I was going to scream…”
She dropped all that casually like it was just masala gossip.
And now she’s in another city. Sleeping peacefully.
While I’m here.
Twisting under my bedsheet.
Trying to silence a body that has started whispering things to itself.

---

This is not me.
This is not the kind of woman I am.
“He’s Radhika's husband.”
That should be the full stop.
Not a comma.
Not a pause.
Not a fantasy forming slowly under my skin.
Just. A. Full. Stop.

---

I turn to the other side of the bed.
My pillow feels cool against my cheek.
The fan spins slow, humming like a lullaby.
My nightie sticks slightly to my thighs.
I shift.
Feel the fabric glide.
My nipples brush against the inside.
They’re still sensitive.
From the gown.
From the eyes.
From that word.
“Gorgeous.”

---

I press my thighs together, breathe out slowly.
I’m not going to think about the way his shirt clung to his chest.
Or how his hands looked when he adjusted his watch.
Or what it would feel like if he ever stood behind me… close.
Close enough that I’d feel it.
His presence. His breath.
His size.

---

No.
No more thoughts.
No more gowns.
No more mirror moments.
Just sleep.
Let the night end quietly.
Let me hold myself steady.
For now.

[Hotyyhard]

excellent narration

[masud93]

continue bro

[Gopal Ratnam]

Marvous update

[Johnnythedevil]

Gorgeous !!!

[yazhiniram]

Morning came like it always does.
Milk packets thudding at the door.
The smell of gas from the neighbor’s kitchen.
Sunlight slipping through the curtains, warming the side of my face even before my eyes opened.
The boys were already half-awake — rubbing their eyes, dragging their tiny feet to the bathroom like sleepy little grandpas.
“Brush your teeth. Find your uniform, quick.”
Same line. Every day.
Kartik had left early.
As usual.
Coffee flask missing, laptop bag already gone.
Not even a sound. Just… silence.
I flipped dosais, steamed idlis.
The pressure cooker hissed. The boys fought over socks. One couldn't find his tie. The other forgot his water bottle.
Everything normal.
And yet… I didn’t feel normal.

---

After they left — two kisses on two warm cheeks, shouted reminders not to fight in the van — I shut the door.
Leant against it for just a moment.
Breathe, Pavi.
Not because I was tired.
But because something inside me… was still humming from yesterday.

---

I tied my hair into a low ponytail.
Loose kurti. A soft, faded one.
Dupatta thrown over, just enough to feel covered.
I stepped out.
Garbage bag in one hand, maybe pick up some milk too.
The corridor was quiet.
TV sounds from someone’s house. A mixer whirring. Slippers scuffling on the floor above.
As I neared the lift, I noticed someone near the security cabin.
Tall.
Fair.
North Indian. Shirt tucked too neatly. Eyes sharp.
New security?
He looked once. Then again.
Eyes didn’t stay on my face.
They dropped lower.
To my chest.
Paused for a second.
Then looked away like he didn’t.
But I saw.
And so did my nipples.
Cheap idiot. Stop staring like you’ve never seen breasts in your life.
My kurti wasn’t even tight. But the weather made the fabric cling a bit.
My nipples were still sensitive from last night.
No bra.
And somehow, that made it worse.
Or better.

---

I pressed the lift button.
Ding.
The door opened.
And inside—
Raj.

---

He was just standing there.
Back straight. A towel over his shoulder.
Polo T-shirt tucked into joggers.
Probably back from a walk or checking the car.
He smiled. That calm, steady smile of his.
No tension. No shift.
“Morning, Pavitra.”
“Morning, anna. Coming from Parking?”
“Yeah, just checking car battery. I’ll go to office late today.”
I stepped inside.
The lift door closed.
And then it was just… the two of us.
No space.
No sound.
No distractions.
Just his cologne.
The smell of aftershave.
That clean male scent that immediately made me think of… things I shouldn’t be thinking.
I adjusted my dupatta.
Not obviously. Just a small tug.
Why?
Because my chest suddenly felt very… there.

---

“Kids left?”
“Yes, just now. The van came.”
“Good. You okay? You looked really nice yesterday. Different.”
The way he said different.
Casual. Normal.
But my body didn’t take it casually.
My thighs squeezed together involuntarily.
My nipples hardened again, brushing against the inner layer of my kurti.
Fuck. Not again.
“Thanks, anna. I just felt like wearing something new. Was a little nervous… but it went fine.”
“Nervous? Why? You looked perfect. Simple and stylish.”
His voice was kind.
Natural.
Nothing inappropriate.
But my mind?
My mind was already racing.
He saw me.
He noticed my legs. My curves. The dip in my neckline.
And now, in this closed space, I could feel his presence so clearly it made my back tingle.

---

I stood up a little straighter.
Ran my fingers through my hair, casually near my ear.
Why?
Because I suddenly wanted to be seen again.
Wanted to feel… feminine.

---

The lift dinged.
My floor.
Saved.
Or maybe… interrupted.
“Okay anna, I’ll go. Coffee’s waiting.”
“Alright. Take care.”
He smiled.
I stepped out.
Closed the gate.
Stood for a second.
God, this man doesn’t even try.
But he makes me feel things my husband hasn’t in years.
Not with words.
Not with looks.
Just… by standing near me.
His presence does to me what no one else’s touch ever has.

---

I walked into the kitchen.
Pulled my hair tighter.
Felt the slight dampness in my panties.
No. I hadn’t even touched myself.
Just a lift ride.
Just a few sentences.
And now my pussy was awake and warm and aware.
Again.

---

“He’s just polite. Friendly. Normal,” I tell myself.
But deep down?
I know it’s not just him who’s changing.
It’s me.

[yazhiniram]

The rest of the day just… flowed.
No drama. No excitement.
Just the usual rhythm.
Swept the floor.
Folded clothes.
Wiped the fridge shelves.
Pulled out two biscuit wrappers, one Beyblade, and a damn melted crayon from under the sofa.
Every chore I did with muscle memory, like I was there but not really.
Lunch happened in between.
Simple sambar. Potato fry. Crispy Appalam.
My playlist was playing Ilaiyaraaja on low volume, like a companion.
But my thoughts?
They weren’t in the sambar.
They were far, far away.

---

I thought of Mom and Dad.
How they did everything with quiet strength.
Mom never complained. Even when her back ached. Even when her feet cracked from standing.
Dad never raised his voice. Never lost control.
They just… existed for each other. For the family. Like breathing.
Did Amma ever feel what I feel now?
Did she ever lie in bed and touch herself in the dark, afraid of her own thoughts?
No.
Probably not.
She didn’t have the time. Or the permission.

---

I stirred the sambar slowly.
And suddenly my mind… drifted to her.
Radhika akka.
My neighbor.
My friend.
My mirror sometimes.
She runs a full-time job. Manager at a big company.
Heads meetings. Sends emails. Solves problems.
Still cooks on weekends. Still folds clothes. Still smiles.
And next to her?
Her husband.
Raj.

---

There it was again. That weight in my chest when I think of him.
The way his shirt sits snug on his shoulders.
The way his voice never rushes. Never scrambles to say something.
Just… speaks. Low. Steady.
He’s different.
He doesn’t run behind calls.
He walks with his hands in his pockets, like he owns his time. Like nothing rattles him.
No kids around the house. Just the two of them now.
And yet, they never seem bored.
Sometimes, I’ve seen them near the gate.
Her carrying vegetables. Him with just a single bag — but still offering to hold hers.
Their voices low, smiling, calm.
Simple moments.
But rare.

---

Kartik helps too.
But it’s different.
Kartik’s body is here.
His mind is inside his laptop.
Even when we talk, I feel like he’s reading invisible emails in his head.
But Raj anna?
When he speaks to me… he’s there.
Right there.
And that’s why even his small compliments stay in my skin.

---

I tried shaking off the thought.
Pavi, what are you doing?
But my pussy clenched when I remembered that lift ride.
His voice.
That moment his eyes stayed one second too long.
Not vulgar.
Not dirty.
But still enough to make my nipples hard… just from memory.

---

I sat down near the window with my coffee.
Sun warming my legs.
Loose kurti sticking slightly to my thighs from sweat.
No bra again.
I stretched slightly, pressing the steel tumbler to my lips.
And as I sipped…
My pussy throbbed. Just once. Deep.
Why the fuck does one man’s voice affect me like this?
It’s been two days.
I still feel the tension in my body.
That restless itch under my skin.
I want someone to grab me by the hips.
Bite my shoulder.
Slide their hand under my nightie and whisper, “Stay still, I’m not done yet.”
I want a mouth that understands my nipples are not decoration.
I want a man who doesn’t finish in two minutes and turn to the side.

---

But all I have is this quiet afternoon.
Coffee.
A playlist.
And a wetness I didn’t ask for… but can’t ignore.

---

The clock hits 4.
Kids will be back soon.
collegebags. Shouting. Asking for snacks. Complaining about homework.
The same rhythm.
And yet… something inside me isn’t the same.
Not anymore.

---

Because today passed like every other day.
But my thoughts?
They were anything but still.
And I can feel it now.
This silence is turning into hunger.
Not just for sex.
But for presence.
For being seen. Held. Wanted.
And he—
he sees me.
Even if no one else does.

[Ajay Kailash]

The slut inside pavitra has woken up now. She is yearning for dominant male that can fuck her brains out. Nice writing.

[yazhiniram]

Days passed,  and Today Friday.
Same rhythm.
college van horn blaring sharp at 7:30.
Kids half-dressed, socks never matching, one of them brushing while shouting for his shoes.
Kartik had one hand on his laptop bag, already halfway into office mode.
“I'll be late today. Evening I've a call with client.”
I just nodded, sweeping biscuit crumbs off the dining table with one hand and adjusting my slipping nightie strap with the other.
The door clicked shut.
Silence settled in.
I leaned back into the chair. Coffee still warm in my hand.
The nightie I was wearing?
Soft. Old. A little loose near the shoulder. The zip on the side never stayed perfectly locked.
Usually I dbang a towel over it like a makeshift dupatta. Just to keep the chest area from being too… obvious.
Today, I forgot.
Or maybe… I just didn’t care enough to remember.

---

Hair tied in a bun.
Coffee cup in one hand.
I got up, slowly walking to the sink.
That’s when the doorbell rang.
Ding-dong.
I didn’t think twice.
Didn’t check the peephole.
Just opened it.
And there he was.
Raj.
Two big stainless steel bottles in his hands.
Tired, maybe. But calm. That usual quiet, steady look on his face.
“Good morning, Pavitra… sorry to disturb. Filter problem in our kitchen. Can I get some water?”
“Aiyyo, no problem at all, anna. Please come in,” I said, stepping slightly aside.
But he didn’t enter.
He just stood politely at the doorway.
“It’s okay, I'm staying here only. Just fill and give. Radhika already left for office.”
I nodded, trying not to fidget.
“Wait a minute, anna. I’ll fill it for you.”

---

He waited outside.
Didn’t try to peek.
Didn’t move around.
Just stood there.
But I was hyper-aware now.
My nightie clung to my hips slightly. The fan had dried sweat into the fabric around my chest.
No towel.
No bra.
And this man — this dangerously composed man — was standing just outside my door.

---

I took the bottles to the kitchen.
Set them down. Started filling the first one.
The water hummed into the steel.
His soft footsteps outside shuffled once or twice.
Why was I breathing like this?
Why was my pussy suddenly pressing tight against the fabric of my nightie like it was trying to say hello?

---

Second bottle. Filling now.
Mind wandering.
Thinking about dosa batter.
Boys’ uniforms for Monday.
Nothing serious.
And then—
CLANG.
The bottle slipped.
Loud metal on tile.
Water splashing everywhere.
Some on my feet. Some under the counter.
“Aiyo!”
“It’s okay?” — His voice, closer now.
I turned.
He had stepped in a little. Not all the way. Just inside the doorway.
I laughed, half-embarrassed.
“Yeah, sorry. It slipped. I’ll wipe it.”
I bent down without thinking.
And that’s when it hit me.
No towel. No bra. Loose neckline. Half-open zip.
My tits probably swayed freely when I bent.
Fuck.
Did he see?
Did he glance?
I felt heat crawl up my back.
But I didn’t stop.
Wiped the water with the edge of the cloth. Got up quickly. Straightened the nightie, even though there was nothing much to fix.
“Sorry anna. I was careless.”
“No no, this happens. Don’t worry.”
He said it like nothing was wrong.
Took the bottles gently from my hand.
“Thanks, Pavitra. I’ll get it fixed soon. Sorry for disturbing.”
“No problem, anna. Anytime.”
He turned and walked away, down the corridor.

---

I closed the door.
And only when I turned toward the kitchen again, I noticed it.
The mirror.
Small one near the fridge. Meant for checking bindis or earrings.
I saw myself.
Zip half open on the side.
No towel.
Neckline a little low, right where the fabric had dropped during the bending.
My breasts… weren’t fully out.
But fuck… it was enough.
Enough to tease.
Enough to show shape.
Enough for a man to imagine how soft they'd feel in his palms.
Did he notice?
He didn’t say anything.
Didn’t stare.
But what if he did?
What if his cock twitched under those pants while I bent, cleaning like an idiot, my tits half-jiggling like soft fruit?
God.
I sat down on the bed, heart thudding.
Pressed my thighs together.
The zip.
The neckline.
His calm face.
Everything crashing over me now in waves.

---

My pussy pulsed once.
Hot. Tight. Wet.
Not from shame.
But because I’d unknowingly given him a peek.
And somewhere deep inside me…
I liked it.
Even if I won’t admit it out loud.
Not now.
Not yet.

[Ajay Kailash]

Raj will slap her and tell, i looked u as my sister and you are behaving like a bitch.

[NityaSakti]

Instead of a married man, she can fall for a young college student in the apartment.
crispy and neat writing.

[Hotyyhard]

Instead of a married man, she can fall for a young college student in the apartment.
crispy and neat writing.

She may have multiple men why not?

[xossissippi]

She may have multiple men why not?

Absolutely! Hoping the story would get multi-dimensional with multiple events with different people happening in her life.

I don't mind her getting attracted to someone like Raj who is a tall hunk. Women often fantasize about handsome men and for someone like Pavitra, it is natural for her to be attracted to handsome guy close to her age.

Even though now it is interesting, to read about interactions between only these two characters, pretty soon it may get boring. So introducing multiple characters as natural progression will add some spice to the story and create interest. And since the setting is in the gated community complex, she can encounter variety of characters. From young to old, aunties and uncles, security guards, apartment workers.

She may fall in love with someone like Raj but I hope it would be some lecherous old men with devious plans gets to seduce this goddess of women and who also succeeds to get in her pants. Seeing someone most gorgeous woman like Pavitra with some fat old overly sexual uncles is the greatest scene to watch ;)

[masud93]

kya bro give a long big update,,,,,,