Adultery The Language of Her Heart

[yazhiniram]

today is my birthday can we expect except update as a gift ;)

Happy Birthday! ? Your gift has arrived — today’s update! 

Just a small heads-up though for everyone: the next few episodes will be a slow burn again ? More of Pavi’s everyday mood swings, quiet moments, and some behind-the-scenes plotting. So enjoy the simmering phase… the real boil is on the way ?

[sexypreeti]

The last update came as no surprise...especially about Prakash  :) Nice twist  clp); clp); clp);

[Hotyyhard]

Happy Birthday! ? Your gift has arrived — today’s update! 

Just a small heads-up though for everyone: the next few episodes will be a slow burn again ? More of Pavi’s everyday mood swings, quiet moments, and some behind-the-scenes plotting. So enjoy the simmering phase… the real boil is on the way ?

Thanks a lot Yazhiniram 

[Vijay42]

today is my birthday can we expect except update as a gift ;)

இனிய பிறந்தநாள் வாழ்த்துகள் நண்பா 

[Hotyyhard]

இனிய பிறந்தநாள் வாழ்த்துகள் நண்பா 

Thank you bro

[sexypreeti]

The last update came as no surprise...especially about Prakash  :) Nice twist  clp); clp); clp);

I am sure many readers felt like K.L.P.D.  :)

[val.coutinho]

I am sure many readers felt like K.L.P.D.  :)

Yes yes KLPD at its best..... Whole 180° turn around of the story.... Poor Prakash should have got the rasgulla.... This was injustice to him..... I was expecting atleast some hot moments between Pavi and Prakash.

And congratulations Preeti on becoming a senior member.... Awaiting a new next update on your story..... Please post ASAP

[Sage_69]

The next few episodes will be a slow burn again ? More of Pavi’s everyday mood swings, quiet moments, and some behind-the-scenes plotting. So enjoy the simmering phase… the real boil is on the way ?

Wish there were 3-4 more updates with some hot sex as the slow burn before was too long.

[sexypreeti]

Wish there were 3-4 more updates with some hot sex as the slow burn before was too long.

If you have read the last update carefully then you will see how Pavi is fighting with herself over her morals/thoughts and physical desires...If the writer had rushed thru with sex in this last update then this story would not be any different from the thousands of sex stories on this forum...

So I feel that sometimes going a little slow is worth while to explain and justify the emotional turmoil running her mind. I do agree that going "very" slow is also not desirable but let's leave that to what this writer has in mind. 

For all you know we might all get stumped again with what is coming next  :shy:

[StoryReader1]

Pl cont

[Santhosh Stanley]

Three holes of this bitch should be fucked by prakash, Raj and Arjun at same time.

[chellaporukki]

Looks like getting too slow and repeated. Better to change location.

[jroy1984]

Waiting for update..

[Abdul A]

Fantastic story

[yazhiniram]

After bathing, the steam was still around me.

It was clinging softly to my skin.

Like some invisible shawl was covering my body.

Warm. Moist. Floating.

But not touching with weight — just staying there like air that refused to leave.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I stood there with the towel in my hand.

It was a little wet from the bath.

I started wiping slowly.

Legs first — down the shins, around the ankles, between the toes.

Then the thighs — soft, wide.

Still damp near the folds.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I moved to my arms.

One, then the other.

Underarms still had drops.

I wiped them softly.

Then brought the towel to my chest.

Slowly.

Like I didn’t want to disturb the skin there.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


The chest was warm.

And already half-dry.

But the towel moved — gently pressing, then patting.

Over the middle.

Then under.

Then between the two breasts.

My cheeks were hot.

But not from bath.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Not from water.

Not from heat.

It was that other thing.

That lingering thing in the lower belly.

That feeling that refused to go.

The one that stayed like memory between the thighs.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I stared at myself.

In the mirror above the bucket.

My hair was flat — sticking near the temple.

Neck had small droplets.

My collarbone looked shiny.

My face looked calm.

But my eyes…


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My eyes knew everything.

They knew what I was fighting.

What I had felt.

What I was still feeling.

I whispered to myself.

“No.”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“Temple means clean heart.”

“Clean mind.”

No dirty thoughts.

No leftover heat.

Just prayer.

Just calm.

I tied the towel around my chest.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


One knot in the middle.

The towel came till mid-thigh.

My back was open.

Hair was wet near the spine.

I stepped out of bathroom.

Floor was cold.

Feet stuck slightly.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I walked to cupboard.

Opened it with one soft pull.

Looked inside.

Sarees were folded neatly.

I picked the green one.

That soft one with gold border.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Cotton-silk blend.

Not too shiny.

Not too dull.

It had that mature look.

Simple but beautiful.

I took it out and placed it on the bed.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Then chose the matching blouse.

Dark green.

Hook-back.

No zip.

Proper.

Then found the matching bra.

Firm. Full.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Tight petticoat.

Drawstring type.

Not elastic.

Old-fashioned.

But it held better.

I laid everything on the bed.

One by one.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Panty was last.

Light beige.

Little loose on one side.

But clean.

I touched it once — just to check.

Then wore it first.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


It slipped on easily.

Covered me fully.

Then the bra.

I bent forward slightly.

Pulled the cups under.

Pressed each breast into place.

Then pulled the straps.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Tightened them both.

It lifted me properly.

Then the petticoat.

I stepped in.

Tied the string on my left.

One strong pull.

Waist looked tighter now.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Then came the blouse.

I put my hands behind.

Started hooking one by one.

First was easy.

Second — okay.

Third — little tight.

Last one — I had to hold breath.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


But I did it.

Hooked.

Chest felt held.

Back felt straight.

Then finally — the saree.

I wrapped it slowly.

Pleated in front.

Tucked into petticoat.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Looked in mirror.

Adjusted edge.

Then brought pallu over shoulder.

Let it fall loose.

Pinned it on shoulder.

One small silver safety pin.

Done.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Then I turned to the side.

Checked again.

Even I was surprised.

Boobs looked full.

Round.

Properly lifted.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Shape was visible.

Not vulgar.

But clearly there.

The pleats were pressing gently under them.

Even the nipples…

Just slightly showing when I turned to the light.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


But not visible to the eye.

Just hinted.

My backside…

I turned again.

Looked at the curve in mirror.

That shape.

That proud shape.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


The petticoat had hugged it fully.

Not sagging.

Not loose.

Just… full.

Firm.

A small belly was there too.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Below navel.

Round.

Soft.

But clean.

It looked womanly.

I smiled at the mirror.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“You’re looking too much.”

I said it softly.

Still my eyes stayed.

I did one full turn.

Hair still wet.

Towel around shoulders.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I patted my cheek once.

“You’re going to temple.”

Second pat.

“Control, Pavi.”

“You’re not some youg girl.”

“You’re one housewife going to pray.”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Still…

I pulled open drawer.

Took kajal.

One dot on chin.

Another one on neck.

For drishti.

Then lip balm.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Just pink tint.

Not lipstick.

Just softness.

Then powder.

Near nose.

Not too much.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


No bindi.

Only kumkum.

One red line.

Between brows.

Then I walked to pooja shelf.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Lit one matchstick.

Smell came — oil, burnt cotton.

One diya burned.

I folded hands.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“Please god…”

My lips moved silently.

“Control my brain.”

“Stop this body heat.”

“Stop this mad feelings.”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“Give me strength.”

Then I got up.

Took my handbag.

Put tissues.

Phone.

Coins for temple.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I left home.

Locked door.

One turn.

Second turn.

Keys felt cold.

Pressed lift button.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


It came down slow.

Doors opened.

I stood inside.

Alone.

Pressed G.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Lights blinked.

7…

6…

5…

Floor numbers going down.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

Still calm.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Face looked peaceful.

Chest wasn’t rising.

No signs.

Nothing naughty.

Doors opened.

I stepped out.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Evening sun touched my arm.

Gate was half open.

Wind came.

Right near my hip.

Soft breeze.

I walked.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Then I saw him.

Prakash.

Near the stool.

Reading paper.

But his eyes came up.

Green saree caught him.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He saw it.

He saw me.

Not like stranger.

Like memory.

Like something returned to his mind.

I kept walking.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


No smile.

No pause.

Straight path.

He stood.

Adjusted belt.

Eyes followed.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Then I made mistake.

I looked.

Just one second.

Our eyes met.

And then—

That twitch.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


That pull.

Inside panty.

Sharp.

Fast.

My pussy clenched.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


That feeling.

Electric.

Like soft wire touched the inner lip.

I swallowed.

Blink.

“No…”

“Not now.”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He didn’t speak.

Didn’t smile.

Just stood.

Knowing.

Watching.

I picked up pace.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Passed gate.

Turned left.

Road bent ahead.

My steps got faster.

Temple was few minutes away.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My feet went faster.

Step by step.

Like they had some purpose.

Like walking itself would push the heat out of my body.

Like each footstep was scolding the next.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“Go,” it said.

“Keep going.”

“Don’t stop.”

“As if walking will chase the lust away.”

That was the thought.

That was the hope.

That my legs could do what my brain couldn’t.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


The temple gate came closer.

No crowd.

Just calm.

Peace.

Stone path ahead.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Soft chanting from speaker.

Slow.

One male voice repeating stotra lines.

No instruments.

Just voice and echo.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


No special day.

Or maybe just Tuesday quiet.

That ordinary temple silence.

Where breath itself becomes loud.

Where thoughts become prayers.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I reached the steps.

Removed sandals.

One foot lifted.

Then the other.

Felt the ground already cooler.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I walked to side tap.

Bent slightly.

Pressed the steel head down.

Thin stream of water.

I cupped both hands under it.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Water ran cold.

I washed both hands.

Palms.

Back.

Then bent lower.

Washed feet.

Ankles.

Heels.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


The stone was slippery.

But I wiped legs dry.

Palms ran down calves.

Toes wiped on inner pallu.

Not perfect — but clean.

Then I stepped toward entrance.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Stone inside was colder.

It pulled the heat from under my feet.

The air was cooler too.

Mixed with agarbatti smoke.

And that thick sandalwood smell.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


It hit softly near the nose.

Then filled chest.

I walked slowly.

One bell rang somewhere in the far corner.

A priest maybe.

Or just some devotee.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


The sound echoed.

Sharp then fading.

I folded my hands.

Automatically.

Palms pressed.

Eyes closed.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Ganesha idol was in front.

Big.

Bright.

Orange garland around him.

Fresh yellow petals below.

He looked calm.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Like always.

Always watching.

I whispered inside.

“I don’t want any man.”

“Not Raj. Not Prakash. Not Arjun.”

“Not anybody.”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My lips didn’t move.

Only mind was speaking.

“I just want my husband to come back.”

“Even if he’s boring…”

“Even if he doesn’t touch me right…”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“He’s mine.”

My fingers pressed tighter together.

Knuckles bent softly inward.

My forehead leaned slightly forward.

But body… body was not calm.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My back still felt him.

That stare.

That heat.

Like Prakash’s eyes were standing behind me in the temple too.

Breathless.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My hips… still remembered Raj.

Still shaped by his touch.

And my navel…

It tingled.

Soft and tight — that old echo.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I opened one eye.

Peeped at god.

His smile was same.

Fixed.

Like he was watching me struggle.

Not angry. Not laughing. Just… watching.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“Please let me be on control,” I whispered inside.

“Give me strength.”

My shoulders dropped slightly.

I sighed once.

Let the air go.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Folded hands again.

Proper this time.

No shaking.

No movement.

One old lady came beside.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Wearing pale orange saree.

She didn’t look at me.

Just folded hands.

I stepped back.

Three small steps.

To give space.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


But even while standing back…

My body was not listening.

Still waiting.

Still tingling.

Like skin was waiting for something to touch.

Like it didn’t care where we were.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I gritted teeth.

Softly.

“Stop thinking,” I told myself.

Firm voice.

Low breath.

Then looked down.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Black stone.

With yellow paint lines.

Old paint. Faded.

But today…

Even that looked dirty to me.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I shook head.

“You’re mad, Pavitra.”

“Came temple also and thinking bad.”

My hand flew up — covered my mouth.

I almost laughed.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Then folded hands again.

Proper one last time.

“God…”

“Please…”

“Just freeze my body for two days.”

“Please.”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Then I turned.

Walked out slowly.

No rush.

Bell rang again behind.

But I didn’t look back.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I came to pray.

And I did.

Mind was not pure.

But effort was there.

That should count.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I was ready to leave.

Still horny.

Still guilty.

Still trying.

But at least I hadn’t fallen.

Yet.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I was walking back toward the apartment.

Temple felt calm.

Mind little lighter.

Body…

Still hot.

But not boiling.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Just manageable now.

Evening breeze came again.

Soft.

Pallu fluttered behind me.

That green-gold cloth lifted with every step.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Some pleats were loosening.

Near the hip.

They shifted.

Moved from place.

I didn’t fix it.

Let it be.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My navel peeked out.

Skin showed between blouse edge and pleats.

One line.

Soft.

Visible only for a second.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I looked down.

Saw it.

“Ayyyo, cover…” I whispered to myself.

But feet kept moving.

Not rushing.

Not dragging.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Just soft steps.

Normal.

Even breath.

The gate came into view.

Almost there.

Then — sudden sound.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Whrrrrrr—

Like one tiny motor.

A cycle came flying.

One boy.

Cycling fast.

Didn’t even brake.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He swerved at last minute.

Tyre just missed the edge of my saree.

Border shook.

“AYY!” I shouted.

Stepped back quickly.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My bag slipped.

From shoulder.

Almost hit the ground.

My right foot twisted slightly.

I wobbled.

My body bent forward.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Almost fell.

Heart jumped.

Then suddenly—

One hand.

Strong.

Tight around my forearm.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Another under my elbow.

Pulled.

Fast.

No asking.

No hesitation.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My body jerked.

Back into standing.

Like force had lifted me.

One hard step forward.

Then the voice came—


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“Careful!”

I heard him say.

Prakash.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I didn’t even see.

Where he came from.

How he came.

How fast.

Like he just appeared.

Right there.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Now he was in front of me.

Fully there.

Holding my arm.

His fingers wrapped around.

Firm.

Real.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


His palm was tight.

Not gentle.

Not soft.

Just full.

Full on my skin.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


His body was close.

Not touching.

But so near.

His breath…

It was already reaching me.

Near my cheek.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I straightened quickly.

Too quickly.

Body pulled itself upright.

Head came up.

Eyes blinked fast.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I shook my arm.

Lightly.

To free from him.

That skin.

Still inside his grip.

His palm slowly let go.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“What the hell…” I muttered.

Half voice.

Half breath.

Not to him.

Not to me.

Just out.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My chest…

It rose.

Then fell.

Then rose again.

That breath was heavy.

Not from anger.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


From something else.

That pull…

That strength…

That way his hand had caught me…

It hit me.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Right through my spine.

Sharp.

Sudden.

Like someone pressed button.

Near the waist.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


And then—

No warning.

No thinking.

A twitch.

Inside me.

Down there.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Pussy.

That same place.

It pulsed.

Once.

Then…

A drop.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Warm.

Sticky.

Small but clear.

I felt it.

Felt it move.

Right between the lips.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Panty got damp.

Just like that.

Not from thought.

Not from touch.

Only from that one pull.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Four days.

I remembered.

Four full days.

Since I felt a hand.

On my body.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


And now this.

Even though it was just help.

Even though it was innocent.

Just catching me.

Still…

My body didn’t care.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I bit my lip.

Pressed it.

To stop the breath.

To stop the memory.

Then I turned.

Sharp.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“You’re doing duty or playing blind man?” I snapped.

Fast.

Hard voice.

Trying to hide my own shame.

Trying to scold the heat away.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


His eyes widened.

Just slightly.

He stepped back.

One inch.

Maybe two.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“Sorry madam…”

His voice came.

Low.

Soft.

Careful.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“Sorry?”

I said again.

Half anger.

Half breath.

“If I had fallen, what?”

“If some old person came?”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“I didn’t see him coming—”

“You’re security!” I scolded louder.

Voice louder than needed.

Trying to push guilt into words.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“Not traffic cone!”

He nodded.

Head down.

No backtalk.

No smart words.

Just quiet.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“You know what’ll happen if some old aunty falls?”

“Hip fracture.”

He nodded again.

“Yes madam.”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“Tell those kids.”

“This is not race track!”

“Yes madam. I’ll tell now.”

He turned.

Looked around.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Boy was gone.

Already disappeared.

But still…

He shouted.

“No cycle near gate!”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“Go play inside!”

“Not near vehicles!”

I stood there.

Arms still tense.

Body still angry.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


But not really angry.

Not at him.

At me.

At myself.

Because…

Even while scolding…


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I was remembering.

His fingers.

That grip.

That heat.

How it pressed.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


How it held my skin.

Firm.

Warm.

Rough.

That one place on my forearm…


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


It still tingled.

Not from pain.

But memory.

Not gone yet.

Still there.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He came back.

Bent down.

Picked my bag.

Dusted it.

No words.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Just actions.

Then held it out.

Toward me.

I didn’t take it.

Not immediately.

Paused.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Two seconds.

No talk.

No eye contact.

Then my hand moved.

Took it.

Just took.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


No thank you.

No smile.

No glance.

Just turned.

But my eye…

Noticed.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


His shirt.

It was clean.

Proper.

Not the usual dull brown.

This one was washed.

Ironed.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Crease on pant leg.

Fresh.

Shirt tucked in.

Buttons neat.

Belt straight.

Shoes polished.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I blinked once.

Prakash?

Presentable?

Why?

For what?

For who?


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I looked up again.

Fast.

Checked his face.

No smile.

No expression.

Just eyes.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Eyes soft.

Not lusty.

Just watching.

Quiet.

Waiting.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I turned quickly.

Pressed lift button.

Didn’t look again.

Didn’t let myself.

Didn’t allow it.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


But brain…

It whispered.

“He wore new uniform for who?”

“He’s standing extra alert today.”

“Maybe…”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“Maybe hoping I’ll invite him for food today?”

I bit my lip again.

Pressed it hard.

“No.”

“No, Pavitra.”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“You’re not doing that again.”

“You’re going to stay calm.”

“No one.”

Lift came.

Doors opened.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I stepped in.

Railing brushed my thigh.

Panty still damp.

Still.

Just from one pull.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“Body’s gone mad,” I muttered.

Out loud.

Low voice.

“Even pulling hand is enough now.”

Lift moved.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Numbers rising.

My bag strap slipped.

I pulled it back.

My hand touched chest once.

Felt fabric.

Still okay.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Looked at mirror.

Green saree still proper.

Pallu pinned.

But face?

Face was different.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Cheeks pink.

Lips shiny.

Eyes slightly watery.

Not tears.

Just too much.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I looked down.

Whispered again.

“You’re going home.”

“To lie down.”

“To drink water.”

“To forget everything.”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Lift stopped.

Door opened.

I stepped out.

Walked to door.

Unlocked.

Entered.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Closed it behind me.

Back leaned against it.

Just one second.

Body sagged slightly.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Took breath.

Big one.

Let it out.

Then whispered—

“God…”

“I went temple only…”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“Why like this again…”

“Give me strength.”

And walked inside.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


It was around 7pm.

Evening had softened.

The light outside the window was orange.

Soft orange.

Like someone had dipped the sky in haldi.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Inside, the flat was quiet.

No voices.

No footsteps.

Just me.

Alone.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My body…

Still humming.

Still faintly warm from that Prakash moment.

That grip.

That stare.

That save.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


But I told myself — move on.

“Enough,” I said inside.

That was gate.

This is home.

I walked.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Feet were slow.

No rush.

No energy.

I entered the kitchen.

My stomach didn’t want food.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Just tea.

Simple tea.

Nothing fancy.

Nothing spicy.

No cravings.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I switched on stove.

Turned knob.

Then clicked the lighter.

Blue flame appeared.

Round. Calm. Humming.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I took milk pouch.

From fridge.

Felt cold in hand.

Tore corner.

Poured into small pan.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


White milk.

Thin stream.

Bubbled at base.

I added half spoon sugar.

Not full.

Just enough.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“Simple tea only,” I whispered.

No drama.

No masala.

Just warmth.

I stood there.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Holding spoon.

Watching.

Waiting.

The boil came slowly.

Tiny bubbles.

Then full foam.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Two minutes.

That’s all it took.

Then—

Pfff.

Click. Click. Click.

Flame gone.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I blinked.

Waited.

Turned knob off.

Then back on.

Tried lighter.

Click-click.

Nothing.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Again.

Click.

Nothing.

Again.

No flame.

“What now…”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I bent down.

Checked pipe.

Hands on knees.

Felt the rubber line.

Tight.

No smell.

No hissing.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


No leak.

Just…

Empty.

Gas was over.

I stood slowly.

Back straightened.

Mouth sighed.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Eyes went to wall corner.

The other room.

The cylinder.

Spare one.

Covered in plastic.

Big. Heavy. Waiting.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“Usually Kartik does this…” I said aloud.

It was his work.

His muscle.

My part was chai.

Not lifting weights.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Still, I looked at closed room.

Saree still on me.

Same green from temple.

Pleats had shifted.

Blouse felt tight.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Strap biting into shoulder.

I adjusted pallu.

Fingers tugged gently.

Then I walked.

One step.

Then another.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Door creaked.

Soft sound.

Room was dim.

But I saw it.

Cylinder sitting near table.

Like some lazy uncle.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Plastic sheet was half torn.

Edges curled.

It was waiting.

Like it knew.

“Ok,” I whispered.

“Just drag it out.”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“Nothing big.”

I bent down.

Both hands grabbed rim.

One side, then the other.

Pulled.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


It didn’t move.

Stone.

Dead.

Heavy.

“Ayyyo…”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I twisted it.

Slightly.

Rolled edge.

Rubber base tilted.

Moved one inch.

Ok.

Not bad.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Started dragging.

Tiny steps.

Tile scratched.

Sound came.

Like old dog coughing.

I smiled.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“Sorry, tile,” I said.

“One scratch won’t kill you.”

I kept pulling.

Toward door.

Closer.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Only one step left.

Divider frame.

2-inch plank.

Kartik’s genius idea.

Now final part.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“Now lift…”

I whispered.

Bend knees.

Grip sides.

Hold breath.

One pull.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


And then—

“AHHH—shit—ayyyyo—”

My back.

Snapped.

Not full.

Just enough.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Sharp pain.

Behind hip.

Right side.

Above butt curve.

Like metal rod jabbed there.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I froze.

Hands let go.

Cylinder dropped.

Thud.

Heavy on floor.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My body bent.

Halfway.

Pallu almost fell.

One hand on wall.

Other on back.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Couldn’t stand straight.

“Ok ok ok…”

I whispered.

“It’s fine. It’s fine.”

Lying voice.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Pain was there.

Still sharp.

Not crying pain.

But groaning pain.

Stubborn.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I stood like old grandma.

Back curved.

Twisted neck.

Left. Right.

Small crack sound.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Took few steps.

Wincing.

Still hurting.

But walking.

I looked at cylinder.

Still sitting.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Mocking.

Smiling.

“You win,” I said.

“Big victory, no?”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“Making one lady beg man for help.”

I sat slowly.

On sofa edge.

Not full sit.

Just perch.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Adjusted pleats.

Leaning forward.

Back allowed it.

But pinched.

Groan escaped.

I glared upward.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“God…”

Soft whisper.

“You serious?”

“I went temple.”

“Prayed.”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“I said I don’t want any man.”

“And now you give me back pain?”

“You think this is funny?”

No reply.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Only tube light flickered.

Above fridge.

My eye twitched.

I picked up phone.

Scrolled.

Security – P.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Stared at name.

One second.

Two.

“Don’t do it, Pavi…”

“You know what will happen.”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


But some other part answered.

“What will happen?”

“He’ll come.”

“Fix it.”

“Go.”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“You’re not giving you.”

“Only gas cylinder.”

I rolled my eyes.

Still clicked.

Call.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Ringing.

One.

Two.

Three.

No answer.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Four.

Still ringing.

Then—

Cut.

“Didn’t pick.”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I stared at screen.

Felt insulted.

“Now also I’m ready to beg…”

“And he’s not even picking.”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Back still aching.

Phone still in hand.

But down there…

That place…

It was smiling.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Tingling came back.

Same spot.

Right behind panty line.

Warmth.

Soft.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I clenched.

Habit.

Body’s own reaction.

Back didn’t like it.

Sharp stab.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“Hisss…”

“Stupid body.”

“Can’t even suffer in peace.”

I dropped phone on sofa.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Closed eyes.

One second.

One breath.

“I’ll try again.”

“If he doesn’t pick…”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“I’ll drag that stupid cylinder to sink.”

“Let it fall.”

“If house burns…”

“Let it burn.”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“No man.”

“No cock.”

“No help.”

Body twitched again.

Still.

But I didn’t move.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Just sat.

Waiting.

Debating.

Back paining.

Pussy laughing.

Heart not sure.

[sexypreeti]

Nice distraction, but was this really the originally planned update or was this a last minute change of plans to engage the readers?

[lanevreddy]

Great updates. Neatly presenting the conflict between the body and mind of Pavi. Erotic teases at the right moments.

[yazhiniram]

Nice distraction, but was this really the originally planned update or was this a last minute change of plans to engage the readers?

Good observation. Actually, this direction was always in my mind — I was just waiting for the right moment. Pavitra is reaching a point where her own fire is becoming too strong to hide under daily routines. I wanted to explore how far she can go… how much she can play with that heat before it breaks her. This isn’t a random shift — it’s part of a deeper arc I’ve been building slowly. Before Kartik returns, she has to explore everything. Every edge. Every mistake. Every emotion. Only then she can return to her normal life — not confused, not curious, but fully burnt out and clear. That’s where the story is going. You’ll see.

[Vijay42]

Good observation. Actually, this direction was always in my mind — I was just waiting for the right moment. Pavitra is reaching a point where her own fire is becoming too strong to hide under daily routines. I wanted to explore how far she can go… how much she can play with that heat before it breaks her. This isn’t a random shift — it’s part of a deeper arc I’ve been building slowly. Before Kartik returns, she has to explore everything. Every edge. Every mistake. Every emotion. Only then she can return to her normal life — not confused, not curious, but fully burnt out and clear. That’s where the story is going. You’ll see.

சிறந்த முடிவு Bro......எந்த ஒரு தேடலும் முழுமை அடைந்தால் வாழ்வில் மாற்றம்தான் சிலர் அந்த புதிய தேடல் பின்னாடியே செல்வதால்தான் நிறைய பிரச்சனையை சந்திக்கிறார்கள்.

[Hotyyhard]

Pavitra is struggling for sure she needs all the heat