Adultery The Untold Story of Abhiram's Erotic Journey - Part 1

[shailu4ever]

Next Morning With Shravya

The morning light crept in through the thin cotton curtains, casting soft golden streaks across the modest bedroom. Outside, the sounds of auto horns and the rhythmic call of a street vendor selling idlis floated into the room. Inside, it was still and quiet.

Abhi stirred on the floor mat, his back sore from the hard tiles, but his senses already alert.

Above him, in the corner of his bed, Shravya shifted under the blanket. He turned his head.

Her face was half-buried in the pillow, long hair splayed like silk over the white bedsheet. The oversized T-shirt she wore had slipped down one shoulder again, exposing the smooth whiteness of her skin in the golden light. Her arms were wrapped around her pillow, her hips tilted slightly, one leg lazily bent up, and the other tucked under the blanket.

For a moment, Abhi just watched.

The peaceful rise and fall of her chest.

The way her lips parted slightly in sleep.

The way her curves flowed effortlessly under that blanket—round hips, small waist, thick fair thighs barely covered by the hem of her shorts, now riding dangerously high.

His throat went dry.

It wasn’t intentional. She wasn’t trying to seduce anyone. She was just asleep. Vulnerable. Comfortable. And stunning.

He quietly sat up on his mat, not wanting to disturb her, but unable to take his eyes off her. The smell of her skin lingered in the pillow from the night before—a soft, floral shampoo scent mixed with body heat. It made his pulse rise.

As if on cue, Shravya stirred.

Her eyes opened slowly, blinking at the morning light, then focusing on him.

"You're up already?" she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

Abhi nodded. "Yeah… woke up a little while ago."

She stretched lazily, arms rising above her head, lifting her T-shirt slightly to expose a smooth, soft belly and the underside curve of her light peach-toned bra. Her fair midriff glowed in the sunlight.

"Ugh, slept like a log," she yawned, rubbing her eyes and sitting up cross-legged on the bed, not bothering to adjust her shirt. Her thighs now fully peeked out from under the T-shirt, fair and thick, smooth like they hadn't seen sunlight in months.

He tried not to look.

"You sleep okay on the floor?" she asked, looking at him with innocent eyes.

"Yeah. I’ve had worse," he muttered, clearing his throat and standing up, trying to hide the stiffness in his pants under the excuse of stretching his back.

She watched him stretch, eyes scanning him casually, like any cousin might—but her gaze lingered a second too long.

"You've become tall," she said.

He turned.

"You noticed that now?"

"I mean, last time I saw you, you were skinny and short and annoying. Now… you’ve filled out." She smirked. “Still annoying though.”

He smiled awkwardly. “Thanks, I guess.”

Shravya slid off the bed, landing right beside him. She was barefoot, only inches away. Her body radiated heat. The curve of her hip lightly brushed his thigh as she reached for her phone on the desk behind him.

Abhi froze.

Shravya didn't.

"Bathroom’s free, right?" she asked, turning slightly so that her side brushed him again. She smelled like sleep and cotton and something warm underneath.

He stepped aside, nodding wordlessly.

As she walked away, he glanced once at her back—her thick, fair thighs moving softly with each step, the oversized shirt clinging just enough to show her wide hips and narrow waist. The early morning sun caught in the strands of her hair, making it look like liquid mahogany.

She paused at the door, half-turning.

"You still remember how to play doctor-doctor?"

He looked up, caught off-guard.

She grinned. "Never mind. Just kidding."

And she slipped into the bathroom, closing the door with a click.

Abhi exhaled, realizing he hadn’t been breathing.

What the hell was happening?

[shailu4ever]

When the bathroom door opened, a gentle cloud of steam drifted out into the hallway. Shravya stepped out.  

She was wrapped in a thick, white towel that clung closely to her form—freshly folded around her chest and tucked just above her curves, giving him ample view of the soft golden globes.  She is holding another smaller towel in her hand as she rubbed the ends of her long, wet hair.

Abhi—just a few feet away—froze mid-motion. His breath caught in his throat, not from surprise, but from a sudden, quiet awe that settled over him like a hush before a storm.

Her face, still dewy from the shower, seemed almost radiant. Soft beads of water clung to the edges of her jawline, trailing down to her neck like tiny crystals slowly melting. Her skin had that fresh, flushed warmth that follows a hot shower—rosy at the cheeks, a gentle pinkness along the curve of her throat. Her full lips were parted just slightly, as if caught mid-thought, and the natural sheen on them made them seem almost too vivid, too real. A few damp strands of her dark hair clung playfully to the side of her face, curling near her temple and tracing the arch of her cheekbone.

Her neck was long, graceful, and still glistening. The towel wrapped around her chest left the slope of her shoulders exposed, and there, the faint outlines of goosebumps were just visible—rising lightly where the cooler air touched her freshly bathed skin. As she lifted one arm to sweep her hair back, the movement revealed the elegant line from her collarbone to her shoulder blade, every motion fluid and unforced.

To Abhi, it was as if time had momentarily pressed pause. He had known Shravya for years—her laughter, her quick comebacks, her focused silences—but this was different. There was no intentional display in her posture, no awareness of being watched. That, perhaps, made it all the more arresting. The quiet vulnerability in her expression, the natural, unguarded beauty, struck something deep in him—something more primal than he expected.

His gaze traced the light catching on her skin, the gentle rise and fall of her breath beneath the towel, the soft contours of her form where the fabric held close. It wasn't lust that overtook him first—it was reverence. A quiet, almost aching appreciation. She looked like a painting come to life: ordinary elements arranged in an extraordinary balance. The heat that rushed through him wasn't just desire, but something slower, deeper—like the first note of a song he suddenly couldn’t forget.

Abhi, halfway through making his bed on the floor, froze again.

She hadn’t expected him to be there. She thought she was alone.

Shravya had stepped into the hallway with her mind still foggy from the hot water, her muscles relaxed, her thoughts distant. She had toweled off quickly, just enough to keep from dripping all over the floor, her fingers still gently squeezing the ends of her hair when she looked up—and saw him.

Abhi.

Frozen in place. His gaze locked on her like he had never seen her before. Not like this. Not ever.

For a heartbeat, she panicked. Her breath hitched. But then… something shifted. The look in his eyes wasn’t invasive. It wasn’t crude. It was stunned—deep, aching, and sincere. He was seeing her, yes, but it was the way he was feeling her that made her pulse flutter.

Shravya didn’t move right away. She simply stood there, allowing the moment to stretch between them. Her skin still felt warm and soft from the steam, but now there was a different kind of heat blooming just beneath it. She felt it in her cheeks, her neck, in the gentle tightening of her stomach. The towel around her chest suddenly felt too thin, too fragile, yet somehow… exhilarating.

Slowly, deliberately, she tilted her head to one side and offered a small smile—subtle, curious. Did you like what you saw? The question lingered in the air, unspoken but loud.

She took a slow step forward, her bare feet whispering against the tile. The silence between them crackled—nervous, electric. When she reached him, she didn’t say anything. Neither did he. Her hand rose slowly to her damp hair, brushing it behind one shoulder, revealing the other completely. His eyes followed her fingers, mesmerized.

“You’re staring,” she said at last, voice soft—playful, but breathy.

“I know,” he whispered. His voice had changed—lower, thicker. “I couldn’t help it.”

She held his gaze, letting it settle into hers. Her heart was pounding now. Not with fear, but with a kind of daring. She stepped even closer, so close she could feel the warmth of his skin meeting hers in the small spaces between them. Her hand brushed against his—casual, yet intentional.

And in that charged stillness, the distance between them ceased to exist. Not with a kiss, not yet. But in the look they shared, the unsaid promise, the quiet admission: I see you. I’ve always seen you. But now I feel you, too.


“You really have to get used to this,” she teased, stepping around him casually, the towel grazing the top of her knees. “It’s not like I’m doing a strip show.”

He looked away, smirking. “Didn’t say anything.”

“Didn’t have to. Your eyes are louder than your mouth.”

He laughed nervously, focusing on folding his sheet as she disappeared into the bedroom again. Her presence lingered—soft footsteps, the scent of her shampoo, and that low hum she always made when drying her hair.

He busied himself in the kitchen, boiling water for tea, setting two cups out.

She joined him a few minutes later, now dressed in a pale yellow kurti and white leggings—fresh, minimal makeup, her wet hair tied in a loose braid that fell over one shoulder. Her skin looked dewy and soft, the light cotton kurti slightly damp around the neckline from her hair.

“Making chai?” she asked, brushing past him to open the fridge.

“Yeah. You want yours strong or mild?”

“Strong. And sweet. Like me.”

He turned, raising an eyebrow.

She giggled.

They moved around the narrow kitchen together—bumping elbows, reaching over one another, sharing the tiny counter. He handed her a spoon. She handed him the milk packet. A drop of water spilled, and she flicked it at him playfully, hitting his chest.

“You planning to fight or help?” he said, smiling.

“Both,” she grinned.

She leaned beside him, arms brushing again. Her kurti rode up slightly as she reached to adjust the stove knob, exposing a sliver of her fair lower back and the elastic waistband of her leggings. The sight made something in his gut tighten.

She felt his eyes on her.

“You were always a quiet type,” she said, still facing the stove, voice soft. “But not a kid anymore.”

Abhi didn’t respond right away.

She turned, half-smiling. “Stop staring.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You always say that.”

He handed her the cup. Their fingers touched. Her skin was warm. Her eyes flicked down to their hands, then back up to his face.

“Thanks,” she said, more softly.

They drank tea in silence. Not awkward silence—but something thick. Heavy with the things neither of them was saying.

A knock came from outside. His mom’s friend. Something about a parcel.

Abhi turned back. Shravya watched him leave the kitchen.

When he returned, she was sitting at the small table, legs crossed, sipping tea and scrolling through her phone. But she looked up when he walked in—eyes scanning him from head to toe.

“You going to office today?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Shirt’s inside out.”

He glanced down. She was right.

He muttered a curse, turned, and began unbuttoning it to flip it.

“You don’t have to strip here,” she teased, eyes following his hands. “But... no complaints.”

He didn’t respond. Just changed quietly.

When he was done, she stood and walked him to the door.

“You coming back for lunch?” she asked.

“Probably not. Might eat at office.”

Shravya leaned on the doorway, arms folded under her chest, pushing the fabric of her kurti tighter against her breasts.

“Okay. Be good,” she said with a smirk.

“I always am,” he replied.

“That’s what worries me,” she murmured, and turned back into the house.

As he stepped out, he looked back once.

She had stopped just past the curtain, turning slightly, her braid swinging over her back. She didn’t smile this time—just watched him leave with something unreadable in her eyes.

And Abhi felt it again—that low, curling ache in his chest.

Something was starting.

[shailu4ever]

Please help me with your feedback to make this better.

[royarnab26]

Excellent build up... Keep it up ?Make it adultery story if possible.

[shailu4ever]

Excellent build up... Keep it up ?Make it adultery story if possible.

Thank you very much royarnab26.  Can you please tell me how you differentiate?  Also can you please tell me, If you are aware,  how can I change it?

[shailu4ever]

The Stairwell With Meghana

The stairwell in their apartment complex was quiet in the late morning hours—sunlight pouring in from the grilled openings on each landing, painting golden patterns on the walls. Most residents were at work or inside their flats. Abhi was heading down with his laptop bag slung over his shoulder, phone in hand, headphones dangling from his neck.

As he turned the curve of the stairs between the second and first floors, he heard the rhythmic tap tap of feet.

Someone was coming up.

And then he saw her.

Meghana.

She was dressed in dark purple gym tights that clung to her legs like a second skin and a fitted black racerback tank top, soaked at the edges with sweat. A white towel was looped around her neck, and her long ponytail bounced behind her with every step.

Her face glowed—not the gentle shine of makeup, but the raw flush of a good workout. Her fair golden skin shimmered slightly under the sun, especially around her shoulders and collarbone. Beads of sweat trickled down from her neck, disappearing into the deep curve of her chest.

They nearly bumped into each other at the narrow landing.

“Oh!” she said, stopping mid-step, slightly breathless. “You scared me.”

Abhi stepped back quickly. “Sorry—I didn’t expect anyone here.”

She laughed, brushing back a damp strand of hair. “I take the stairs to the terrace. Better than that stuffy gym downstairs.”

He nodded, trying not to stare—but the way her clothes clung to her every curve made it impossible to look away entirely. Her hips were wide and round, waist snug, and her chest firm, full, and bouncing slightly with each breath.

“I’ve seen you around,” she said casually, pulling the towel to wipe her forehead. “You live on the third, right?”

“Yeah. Just moved in a few weeks back. I’m Abhi.”

“Meghana. Fifth floor.” She offered her hand without hesitation.

He shook it. Her palm was warm, slightly damp, and confident. She held his hand a second longer than necessary.

“You work out?” she asked, scanning him from top to bottom in an obvious way.

“Sometimes,” he replied.

“You should,” she smiled. “Tall guys like you look good with definition.”

He wasn’t sure what to say. She knew what she was doing—her voice was teasing, her smile lopsided, her body language relaxed and completely unapologetic.

Meghana wasn’t like Shravya. There was no childhood memory or cousinly tension. Meghana was bold. Sharp. She looked at him like a woman, not a sister or friend.

She noticed his silence and smirked.

“You heading out?” she asked.

“Yeah, to office.”

“Hmm. Software?”

He nodded.

“Figures,” she chuckled. “All of you carry the same expressions. Sleep-deprived, half-distracted, too shy to flirt.”

His eyebrows lifted. “I’m not shy.”

She leaned in, just enough for him to catch the warm scent of her body—musky, citrusy, and feminine.

“We’ll see,” she whispered.
And just like that, she brushed past him on the narrow stair, her hips lightly grazing his thigh as she ascended. He turned, involuntarily watching her from behind—the way her tight leggings molded around her full, jiggling buttocks, the strong yet soft movement of her legs, and the sweat that glistened at the base of her back.

“Bye, neighbor,” she called over her shoulder without turning. “Try the stairs sometime.”

He stood there for a moment longer, heart hammering, blood rushing.

This apartment complex was starting to feel more interesting by the day.

[shailu4ever]

Shravya shifts to her hostel

The day went as usual and when he came home

Shravya’s parents are there, and Shravya’s bags were packed. Her training center had finally confirmed her hostel spot, and the shift was happening quicker than she expected.

Abhi stood near the entrance, arms folded, watching as her father helped zip up her bags.

Shravya looked different that morning—less playful, more thoughtful. She wore a light peach kurti, soft against her fair skin, with her hair tied into a tidy bun. A few stray strands framed her face, which was fresh but subdued.

She looked around the house slowly, as if trying to memorize it.

“You’ll visit, right?” she asked him quietly while her parents stepped outside to bring the car around.

“Of course,” he said, trying not to sound too affected.

She smiled faintly. “It won’t be the same there. No one to fight with over the remote. No one to steal my fries.”

He chuckled. “You barely ever let me have any.”

She walked to him and paused—just a couple of feet away. Close enough that he could smell her usual perfume—mild, floral, familiar. The kind of scent that lingered on pillow covers.

Her voice lowered. “I liked staying here, Abhi.”

He didn’t reply. He cann’t tell how much he wants her to be there.  

Her eyes studied him. Something behind them glowed—maybe affection, maybe hesitation, maybe a hint of something she didn’t want to name yet.

Then she stepped forward and hugged him.

Not playful. Not teasing.

A soft, still hug. One that lasted longer than expected.

His hands rested against her back, his fingers lightly brushing the folds of her kurti. She was warm. Her cheek pressed against his shoulder. Her chest against his. Too close, too natural.

And then it ended.

She stepped back quickly, gave a little nod, and turned to pick up her phone.

Within minutes, the car pulled up, and the suitcases were loaded. Her parents called from downstairs.

Shravya looked at him one last time at the door.

“I’ll call you,” she said.

“You better.”

Then all of a sudden, she swiftly moved and kissed his cheek and ran out before he could realize what had happened. She was gone.

The house felt emptier almost immediately.

The bathroom door wasn’t half-open.

The second toothbrush was gone.

No chai cups waiting in the kitchen.


Just silence.

And in that silence, someone else’s presence had room to grow.


---

[shailu4ever]

Can someone please tell me how to change this from Misc. Erotica to Adultery? Is it possible?

[shailu4ever]

Next Day Morning on the Terrace – First Light, First Fire

The terrace was hushed, the early morning air cool with a hint of dew, like the city itself hadn’t fully woken up. Abhi stepped out barefoot, shirt loose over his pajamas, as the sky blushed pale orange behind the skyline. His chest felt heavy—code reviews, expectations, the long distance from family—it was too much for four walls. He just needed air.

But then he saw her.

Meghana.

There she was at the far end of the terrace, the light tracing gold along the edges of her body as she moved—slow, deliberate, centered. Her black leggings hugged her hips like a second skin, tapering down long, athletic legs. The pale blue sports bra contrasted strikingly against her golden-brown skin. Her torso was lean but strong, sculpted like a dancer’s—every line defined, her abdomen taut with effort.

Her face was calm, deeply focused, and luminous in the soft light. High cheekbones framed her face, her lips full but untouched by gloss. Her dark eyes were closed now, lashes long and fanned out against her cheeks as she moved from Downward Dog into Chaturanga—her body hovering low above the mat, arms tight, triceps flexed with control.

Abhi swallowed.

She flowed into Upward-Facing Dog, chest open, giving him ample view of her blossom, shoulders drawn back, her neck arched delicately. Her breasts lifted subtly with the pose, the stretch accentuating the curve of her body in a way that made Abhi forget why he came up here in the first place.

A part of him wanted to leave—to not be that guy. But he couldn’t move.

She shifted into Trikonasana—Triangle Pose—legs spread wide, one arm pointing to the sky while the other traced the inside of her shin. Her side elongated, ribs visible beneath skin, as if her whole body was a ribbon being unspooled. The morning sun caught the sheen of sweat near her jawline, making her glow.

Then, as if she sensed his gaze, her eyes opened—and met his.

She smiled. Wide. Knowing.

“Well, hello again, 203,” she said, staying in the pose. “Here for fresh air or front-row seats?”

Abhi blinked, caught but not ashamed. “Bit of both?”


She slowly came out of the pose and transitioned into Ustrasana—Camel Pose—kneeling back, arching her spine until her hands rested on her heels. Her chest lifted, neck stretched, breath deep. It was impossible not to look, and equally impossible to pretend he wasn’t.

“You’re looking again,” she said, eyes still closed, a small smile playing at her lips.

Abhi's mouth opened, but no excuse arrived.

“It’s okay,” she continued, lifting herself up and sitting cross-legged, arms resting lightly on her knees. “I told you—you can look. Just don’t pretend you’re not.”

He chuckled, easing himself to sit a few feet away, the concrete warm under him. “I was actually here to clear my head.”

“Well,” she said, tilting her head as she stretched her arms above her, the line of her torso elongating, “you came to the wrong place if you want a clear head. I tend to cause distractions.”

“I’ve noticed,” he replied, eyes still tracing the way sunlight kissed her hidden treasures peeking from her top.

She grinned and leaned back on her palms, letting her spine arch slightly. “You’re tense. IT guy tension. You need yoga.”

“Not sure I can focus.”

“That’s the point.” She scooted her mat slightly closer. “Try something simple. Sit straight. Close your eyes.”

He hesitated but followed, unsure if he was obeying a spiritual guide or being gently seduced.

“Now breathe in,” she said, her voice softer now. “Not too fast. Deep and slow.”

He did.

“Now out.”

He let go.

“Better?”

He opened one eye and looked at her—close enough to feel her breath. “Still distracted.”

She smirked. “Good. That means it’s working.”

She straightened, rolled her shoulders, and walked a few steps toward him, arms resting loosely by her sides. “You always look like you’re solving a math problem when you stare.”

“I wasn’t—” He caught himself. Then smirked. “Okay, I was. But, in my defense, that was distracting.”

He scratched the back of his neck, trying not to let his eyes wander again. But she was impossible not to notice. Her waist tapered just enough to invite the eye, hips flared elegantly, and her long neck had a softness that begged to be touched.

“You’re seriously good at this,” he said, shifting his weight. “Ever think of teaching?”

She tilted her head, looking him up and down. “Why? You thinking of becoming my disciple?”

“Maybe.” He smiled, half-teasing. “If you're taking students.”

“I might make an exception,” she said, walking past him slowly, her scent—fresh, clean, a hint of something floral—brushing his senses. “But I warn you, I don’t go easy on beginners.”

“Rough is fine,” he said before thinking, then flushed. “I mean, I can handle discipline.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Careful, 203. That kind of talk in yoga class might get you... bent into positions you didn’t expect.”

He chuckled, both flustered and intrigued.

She turned back toward him, stretching her arms overhead one last time, exposing the full length of her torso—the delicate lines beneath her ribs, the soft dip of her navel. “If you’re serious, you’ll need a yoga mat. And proper clothes.”

“Define proper.”

“No jeans, no pajama bottoms, and definitely no checking out your instructor while she’s in camel pose,” she said with a smirk.

“No promises,” he replied.

“Fair enough.” She tossed her ponytail back over her shoulder. “Come up tomorrow. Same time. I’ll teach you the basics.”

“And if I’m late?”

“I’ll make you do extra stretches. The kind that hurt.”

Abhi grinned, pulse still drumming from more than just morning chill. “Looking forward to the pain.”

Meghana gathered her mat under one arm. As she walked past him toward the stairwell, she leaned in slightly, her voice low and warm in his ear.

“Oh, and Abhi?”

“Yeah?”

“If you wear anything too loose tomorrow, I’ll assume it’s intentional.”

Then, with a wink and a sway of her hips, she disappeared down the steps—leaving him alone on the terrace, body warmer, breath slower, and tomorrow already too far away.

[shailu4ever]

Hey guys, I really wish someone of you please respond.

[Yash121]

Mind-blowing update

[shailu4ever]

Mind-blowing update

Thank you @Yash121, this kind of encouragement motivates.  Appreciate your feedback.

[tweeny_fory]

I thoroughly enjoyed Abhiram's journey, and appreciate the wonderful writing and narration that brought the story to life.

The teasing and mischievous interactions between characters added to the delight.

However, I did notice that Abhiram seems to be constantly running between multiple women, with the chemistry between them intensifying after each situation. To keep the story engaging, you might consider adding a bit more spice to the narrative.

While slow seduction can be enjoyable, it can also become tedious over time, potentially losing readers' interest. To avoid this, you could introduce action or sexual tension between Abhiram and some of the women sooner.

For instance, Madhavi was introduced relatively early in the story, but her role seemed limited, aside from giving Abhiram halwa (which, in our culture, can be seen as a way of escaping or avoiding him).

To build on this, you could explore the relationships between Abhiram and 2-3 characters at a time, delving deeper into the details of their interactions and seeing how these relationships evolve. This could add more depth and variety to the narrative.

Happy writing, don;t take comments too deep to your mind and go with the flow you have.

[shailu4ever]

I thoroughly enjoyed Abhiram's journey, and appreciate the wonderful writing and narration that brought the story to life.

The teasing and mischievous interactions between characters added to the delight.

However, I did notice that Abhiram seems to be constantly running between multiple women, with the chemistry between them intensifying after each situation. To keep the story engaging, you might consider adding a bit more spice to the narrative.

While slow seduction can be enjoyable, it can also become tedious over time, potentially losing readers' interest. To avoid this, you could introduce action or sexual tension between Abhiram and some of the women sooner.

For instance, Madhavi was introduced relatively early in the story, but her role seemed limited, aside from giving Abhiram halwa (which, in our culture, can be seen as a way of escaping or avoiding him).

To build on this, you could explore the relationships between Abhiram and 2-3 characters at a time, delving deeper into the details of their interactions and seeing how these relationships evolve. This could add more depth and variety to the narrative.

Happy writing, don;t take comments too deep to your mind and go with the flow you have.

@tweeny_fory  Thank you very much for your appreciation.  I am really glad you have taken time to explain the flaws in my story-writing.  I truly take them as constructive.  I too feel that way.  As I mentioned earlier, it is new to me.  I am learning writing stories.

Yes I agree I started with Madhavi, but tried to introduce more characters and trying to balance their chemistry.  I will slowdown introducing more characters and create some tension and romantic scenes between.  Any way, last scene was between Meghana and Abhi. I already drafted a scene that deepen their relationship and build romantic tension.

I really appreciate your extended help while this story shapes up.  Please keep checking my story and give me guidance.  Your suggestions are really valuable for me to understand how to write a story and also shape it up.

Thank you once again

-- Shailu

[shailu4ever]

Morning Heat – The First Lesson

The next morning, Abhi stood at the base of the stairs, heart thudding like he was about to walk into a job interview—or a date. He wore a fresh black t-shirt and new athletic joggers, slightly too snug around the thighs. In his hand, a rolled-up blue yoga mat—brand new, still smelling faintly of plastic and the store’s air conditioning.

He reached the terrace, and there she was.

Meghana stood facing the sun, her silhouette already golden in the light. Today she wore deep burgundy leggings and a matching sports bra which is short and just covered her breasts.  That leaves a decent gap between her leggings and the sports bra, leaving her soft golden yellow skin of her navel and belly exposed.  Her back was to him—long, bare, sculpted like something out of stone. Her shoulder blades moved under her skin like wings, and as she raised her arms, stretching tall, her body seemed to unfurl with the sky itself.  He could not take his eyes off her. 

He stayed like that for some time and then, he cleared his throat.

She turned, and her eyes lit up with amused satisfaction. “Well, well. Look who came prepared.”

“Had to,” he said, rolling out the mat. “Didn’t want to be accused of pajama yoga.”

She walked over, barefoot, confident.  Her breasts stood up in her tight sports bra and the view of her hot exposed midriff made him glue his eyes. She noticed him with a smile on her face.

“We’ll start simple,” she said. “Let’s see what your body can do.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”

She smiled, kneeling beside him. “Not yet. But it might turn into one.”

[shailu4ever]

They Begin

They moved through basic poses. Meghana guided him through Tadasana—Mountain Pose—correcting his posture with the lightest touch of her fingertips on his shoulders.

“Stand tall, Abhi. Shoulders back... no, not stiff.” She stepped behind him, her palms brushing gently along the sides of his ribs. “Breathe into here. Expand.”

He inhaled.

Her touch lingered a beat longer than necessary. The warmth of her hands, the scent of her skin—faint sandalwood, sun, and something distinctly her—coiled in his chest like heat.

Next was Adho Mukha Svanasana—Downward-Facing Dog.

He struggled, his hands slipping slightly.

Meghana crouched beside him, her face close to his. “You’re holding too much tension in your shoulders.”

“You think?”

“I know.” She laughed softly. “Let me help.”

She placed her hands on his hips—light but firm—and gently tilted them upward and moved her hands to his waist.

“Someone is hiding 6 pack inside” a small smile playing at her lips, she said with a smirk

His breath caught with her touch. Her hands lingered longer than required tracing his waist.

The contact was subtle, but intimate. Her thumbs brushed the waistband of his shirt as she adjusted him, and for a second, he didn’t know if he could hold the pose or his composure.

“There,” she murmured. “Now you're in the shape of an inverted V... sexy and awkward. Good combo.”

He glanced at her from under his arm, grinning. “So I’ve been told.”

[shailu4ever]

Bhujangasana—Cobra Pose

They moved into Bhujangasana—Cobra Pose. He lay flat on his stomach, then lifted his chest, pressing into the mat.

“Lift from your back, not your arms,” she instructed, coming behind him.

She placed both hands lightly on his lower back—fingertips spreading just slightly, warm through his shirt. “There’s a rhythm to this,” she said softly. “Like... undulating. Snake-like.”

He felt her breath near his ear as she leaned in, watching him closely.

“Don’t resist the stretch. Let it move through you.”

“I’m trying,” he murmured.

“I can tell.” Her voice dropped a note. “But your body’s... fighting itself. Happens when you’re used to control.”

She guided his spine upward with a slow sweep of her palm, her nails barely grazing the fabric.

It sent a ripple down his chest. God, her touch... It wasn’t overt. Nothing obscene. But the intimacy of it—her hands reading his body like a language—was far more charged than anything he’d expected at 6:30 in the morning.



The Breath Between Them

After the last pose, they sat cross-legged, facing each other. Meghana wiped her brow with a towel and looked at him—not just at his body, but into the tension behind his eyes.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” she said, voice low.

“Comes with the job.”

“And the life?”

“Yeah,” he admitted.

Meghana leaned forward slightly, elbows on her knees. “That’s why I do this. Yoga isn’t just about moving. It’s about feeling. Not thinking. Not hiding.”

Their eyes locked.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was charged—soft, crackling.

Finally, he said, “You’re dangerous in yoga clothes.”

She smirked. “Then you’re in real trouble. Because we’ve only done day one. Tomorrow, we try balance poses. Lots of hands-on correction.”

“Lucky me,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended.

Meghana leaned forward, her hand lightly brushing his knee as she stood. “We’ll see how lucky you are once I have you on one leg and nowhere to run.”

With that, she walked away—hips swaying, hair bouncing—and Abhi, still cross-legged on the mat, suddenly felt every part of his body very awake.

And tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

[shailu4ever]

Later That Morning

Abhi sat on the edge of his bed, still in the fitted joggers from the morning, a towel looped around his neck. He hadn't changed, hadn’t showered—his body still humming with a soft ache from the stretches, the poses... and from her touch.

Meghana.

He leaned back slowly, head resting against the wall, eyes closed. But all he saw was her.

The way her body moved in the early morning light—long, slender legs grounded with a dancer’s strength, her form all flowing control and quiet confidence. Her skin had glowed in that soft dawn, fair and smooth, the kind of light-toned warmth that didn’t need anything artificial to be noticed.

And then, her breasts—high, full, and impossibly firm, rising with each breath as she held those poses. Covered, yes—but still commanding. They moved with grace, not weight—a softness that demanded attention without apology. He hadn't tried to stare. But he had.

So had every cell in his body.

Her body was lean, toned in all the right places, shows how much disciplined she is in working out and keeping fit.   The curve of her waist, the lines of her arms, the way her hips shifted when she corrected his form—it wasn’t just sensual. It was alive. She was a woman who knew her body deeply, knew how to live in it—and didn't shy away when someone noticed.

But it wasn’t just the shape of her. It was her presence. Her eyes—alert, playful. Her mouth—bare of makeup, but expressive. Slight smirks. Slow smiles. Words that floated somewhere between teasing and testing.

He exhaled, chest heavy.

Was she inviting him? Or was he just imagining it all?

When she placed her hands on his hips to correct that pose... was it just alignment? Or had her fingers lingered on purpose? The way she said “Looking is allowed”—was that a joke, or permission?

Then he remembered something else: her ring.

Meghana was married.

Just 25. Married recently. He’d only heard about it from the apartment gossip circle and a brief passing mention in the elevator. Her husband worked in pharma sales—always traveling, chasing targets, rarely around. She lived alone most weeks. Always seen with her yoga mat, earbuds in, that upright stride of someone who had made peace with solitude.

Abhi had noticed her months before, in the stairwell or collecting her Amazon packages in soft tank tops and tights. But it was only now—after her touch, her words, her body so close—that he really felt her.

And now she lived inside his thoughts.

He opened his eyes, the room too quiet. Every sound from upstairs felt like it might be her. Her footsteps. Her laugh. The sound of water running from her shower, just two floors above.

He shook his head, rubbed his face.

Maybe I’m reading too much. Maybe she’s just kind... open. Comfortable in her skin.

Or maybe, just maybe, she wanted him to read exactly what she was showing.

Whatever it was, he couldn’t stop thinking about tomorrow.

Because her voice had curled into his ear like a promise:

“Tomorrow, we try balance poses. Lots of hands-on correction.”

And with that one sentence, she had unspooled something deep in him—a hunger, quiet but unmistakable.

Not just for her body. For her attention. Her eyes. Her daring.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.


He finally got up to get ready for the office.


---

[Jajinakajanare]

Great updates..
I believe u have introduced too many characters too early
Every female character seems same.. teasing him

[tweeny_fory]

wow lovely poses and the chemistry between meghana and abhiram is working out lovely...