Adultery Priya Didi

[shailu4ever]

.

 

The bra cups fell away to either side, hanging loose from the straps still on her shoulders, and she was bare from the waist up except for the saree wrapped around her lower body.
 
She caught her breath at the sight.
 
Her breasts were magnificent.
 
She had never really looked at them like this, had never taken the time to truly appreciate them.
 
They were large, firm, and perfectly round, the kind of natural perfection that seemed almost impossible, yet here it was.
 
They sat high and proud on her chest, defying gravity with their fullness, maintaining their beautiful spherical shape without any support.
 
Her body was at its absolute peak, and her breasts were testament to that, full and abundant yet impossibly firm, round and perfect as if sculpted by an artist's hand, yet entirely, gloriously natural.
 
Her nipples were dark brown, large and prominent, centered on equally dark areolas that were the size of small coins. They were hard now, standing up proudly, evidence of her arousal, of the cool air on her heated skin, of the thoughts running through her mind.
 
She cupped her bare breasts in her hands, and the sensation was completely different from touching them through the bra.
 
Now she could feel everything, the silky softness of her skin, the firmness of the flesh beneath, the hard points of her nipples pressing into her palms.
 
She squeezed gently, then harder, watching in the mirror as her flesh dimpled under her fingers, as her breasts changed shape with her touch.
 
They were so sensitive. Every touch sent shivers through her body, made her breathing quicken, made heat pool between her thighs.
 
She ran her thumbs over her nipples, flicking the hard buds gently, and gasped at the jolt of pleasure that shot straight down to her core.
 
"Ravi would love these," she whispered, and the certainty of it made her bold.
 
She lifted her breasts, offering them to her reflection as she might offer them to a lover. She imagined Ravi's face as she did this, his eyes darkening with desire, his lips parting, his hands reaching out to accept what she was offering.
 
She imagined him cupping her breasts as she was doing now, learning their weight, their texture, their responsiveness.
 
She imagined his mouth on her nipples, and the thought made her moan softly.

.

[shailu4ever]

.

 

Would he lick them gently, teasingly?
Or would he suck hard, pulling them deep into his mouth?
Would he bite gently, making her gasp and arch into him?
Would he use his tongue to circle the areolas, making her squirm with need?
 
Her hands moved across her breasts, exploring, caressing, trying to imagine his touch. She squeezed and released, lifted and let fall, traced her fingers across the upper curves and the undersides, learning every inch of her own body as he might learn it.
 
She pinched her nipples between thumb and forefinger, pulling gently, then harder, and watched in the mirror as they elongated under her touch.
 
The sensation was almost too intense, pleasure bordering on pain, sending lightning bolts of feeling through her entire body.
 
She could feel herself getting wetter, could feel the response between her legs to what she was doing to her breasts.
 
Everything was connected. Touch her nipples, and she felt it in her core. Squeeze her breasts, and her thighs clenched together instinctively. Her body was a network of sensation, and she was only just beginning to map it.
 
She let the bra fall completely from her shoulders, and it dropped to the floor at her feet. Now there was nothing on her upper body except skin, smooth, warm, flushed skin that seemed to glow in the bathroom light.
 
She turned to see her profile again, looking at the shape of her breasts from the side, the way they projected forward, the perfect roundness of them, the proud point of her nipples.
 
From this angle, she could see her entire torso, the full, perfect breasts, the narrow waist, the beginning of the curve of her hips where the saree wrapped around her.
 
She looked like an ancient sculpture, like the temple carvings she had seen of apsaras and goddesses, with their full breasts and generous hips and tiny waists.
 
She looked like a woman made for pleasure.
 
Made to be worshipped. Made to be desired. Made to be touched.
 
And Ravi, Ravi would want to do all of those things. She knew it with a certainty that came from the way he looked at her, the way his breath caught when she came near, the way his hands clenched at his sides as if fighting the urge to reach out.

.

[shailu4ever]

.

 

Ravi wanted her. And standing here, topless, admiring her own body,
 
She finally admitted that she wanted him too.
 
Her hands moved to the waist of her saree, fingers finding the edge where it was tucked into her petticoat.
 
The silk had been wrapped around her so many times she'd lost count, layer upon layer creating the elegant dbang, but now she wanted it gone. She wanted to see herself without barriers, without the armor of respectability that the saree provided.
 
She began to unwrap.
 
The pleats at the front came loose first, the carefully arranged folds falling free, and she pulled the length of silk around her body.
 
With each unwinding rotation, more of her was revealed, the shape of her hips beneath the thin petticoat, the curve of her thighs, the length of her legs.
 
The saree puddled at her feet in a pool of emerald silk, joining the pallu already there, and she stepped out of it carefully, her eyes never leaving the mirror.
 
Now she stood in just her petticoat, and the difference was staggering. The petticoat was a simple cotton garment, tied at the waist with a drawstring, falling to her ankles. But it hid nothing of her shape.
 
She could see every curve, every line of her body beneath the thin, slightly translucent fabric.
 
Her breasts rose proudly above the petticoat's waistline, bare and beautiful, and below, she could see the generous curve of her hips, the fullness that made the petticoat cling to her body.
 
The fabric molded to her, showing the roundness of her bottom, the thickness of her thighs, every womanly curve.
 
She turned to see her profile, and the sight made her flush with something between pride and desire.
 
From the side, her figure was even more dramatic.
 
The thrust of her bare breasts, the dip of her waist, the full roundness of her bottom, the curve of her thighs, it was the kind of figure that belonged in paintings, in sculptures, in the fantasies of men who appreciated real women.
 
She thought of Ravi seeing her like this, and heat flooded through her body.
 
Would he think she was beautiful? She knew he would. She had seen it in his eyes already, even with all her layers. But like this? With nothing but thin cotton between his gaze and her naked skin? The thought made her tremble.

.

[shailu4ever]

.

 

Priya’s hands moved to the drawstring of her petticoat, fingers toying with the knot. This was the last barrier. Beneath this, there would be nothing. Just her skin, her body, her truth.
 
She pulled the string, feeling the knot loosen.
 
The petticoat slipped down immediately, the fabric too loose to hold itself up, and it pooled around her feet on top of the emerald saree and cream-colored blouse. And then she was naked.
 
Completely, utterly, beautifully naked.
 
She stood frozen, unable to look away from her reflection. This was her body. This was the form she had been hiding under layers of silk and cotton, under the respectability of proper dress and proper behavior.
 
But there was nothing proper about the way she looked right now.
 
She looked like sin. She looked like temptation. She looked like everything a man could want.
 
Her breasts were magnificent in their natural state, heavy and round, with dark pink nipples that were hard and prominent.
 
They sat high and proud on her chest despite their size, perfect spheres that seemed to defy the laws of nature. When she breathed, they moved gently, and she found herself mesmerized by the sight.
 
Her waist was impossibly narrow in contrast to her hips, creating curves that seemed almost exaggerated in their femininity.
 
Her stomach was soft and gently rounded, not flat like a girl's but womanly, real. And below that, the dark triangle of hair that marked her as mature, as sexual, as someone who knew what desire felt like.
 
Her hips were wide and full, designed for a man's hands to grip. She turned again, looking over her shoulder at her reflection, and saw the generous curves of her bottom, round and firm, leading down to thick thighs that touched at the top.
 
Her legs were shapely, tapering down to delicate ankles and small feet.
 
She was the embodiment of classical Indian beauty, full-figured, curvaceous, voluptuous. The kind of woman painted in temple murals, carved in ancient stone, celebrated in poetry for thousands of years.
 
And she had been hiding this. Denying this. Pretending this body didn't exist beneath her dutiful exterior.
 
"My God," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Look at you."

.

[shailu4ever]

.

 

Priya’s hands moved across her body now with more confidence, more appreciation. She cupped her breasts, feeling their weight in her palms, and gasped at the sensation. They were so sensitive, every nerve ending awake and aware.
 
Her nipples pressed into her palms, hard points that sent shivers down her spine when she touched them.
 
She thought of Ravi's hands. Large hands, with long fingers. She had noticed them, of course. Had noticed the way they moved when he gestured, the strength in them when he had helped move a heavy pot in the kitchen.
 
What would those hands feel like on her breasts? Would he be gentle or rough? Would he tease her nipples the way she was doing now, or would he be more direct?
 
The thought made her moan softly, and the sound shocked her. She had made that sound. Priya, the respectful wife, the dutiful daughter-in-law, had just moaned at the thought of another man touching her.
 
But she didn't stop.
 
Her hands moved lower, tracing the curve of her waist, feeling the dip and swell of her hips.
 
Her skin was so soft, so warm, and every touch sent little sparks of pleasure through her. She had never explored her own body like this, had never taken the time to appreciate what she had.
 
Intimacy with her husband was dutiful, quick, performed in darkness under covers. This, this slow appreciation, this sensual exploration, was entirely new.
 
She slid her hands around to her bottom, feeling the full curves there, and squeezed gently. The flesh yielded under her fingers, soft and abundant, and she imagined Ravi's hands there, gripping her, pulling her against him.
 
Would he appreciate her fullness? Would he love the softness of her body, the way she curved and yielded?
 
Heat was building in her, pooling low in her belly, between her thighs. She could feel herself responding to her own touch, to her own thoughts, and it was intoxicating. Her body knew what it wanted, even if her mind was still trying to resist.
 
She turned to face the mirror fully again, her hands dropping to her sides. From this angle, she could see everything, the proud thrust of her breasts, the narrow span of her waist, the flare of her hips, the triangle of dark hair.

.

[ananth1986]

Feeling for Ravi will make fall for Shailu towards Ravi.

Hot Hotter Now Hottest.
More .....pplease

[Strangerstf]

Hot hot hot updates....

Can't wait for next updates.
Bring them on ma'am!!

[shailu4ever]

Feeling for Ravi will make fall for Shailu towards Ravi.

Hot Hotter Now Hottest.
More .....pplease

Hi Ananth Sir

 
Thank you so much for your compliments.  
 
Your feedback genuinely means a lot to me, especially coming from someone who’s been such a strong supporter.
 
I love how you picked up on that emotional shift.  And “Hot → Hotter → Hottest” made me smile, that escalation is very much intentional.
 
I’m actively working on the next updates and more is definitely coming… deeper emotions, sharper conflicts, and yes, things will only intensify from here. Stay with me, the journey ahead is going to be worth it.
 
I am very grateful and Thankful for the encouragement; it genuinely fuels the writing.
 
Your enthusiasm keeps me alert and continue giving more and more updates. 
 
With warm regards
 
-- Shailu
 
 
 

[shailu4ever]

Hot hot hot updates....

Can't wait for next updates.
Bring them on ma'am!!

Hi Strangerstf
 
Thank you so much for your compliments.
 
I’m really glad the updates are hitting the mark, “hot hot hot” is definitely the vibe I’m building toward.
 
I’m already working on the next updates, and they’re coming very soon. Things are only going to get more intense from here, so stay with me, there’s a lot more to come.
 
Your excitement honestly motivates me a lot. Thank you for the encouragement, and yes… more is on the way.  
 
With warm regards
 
-- Shailu

[shailu4ever]

.

 

She could see the flush that had spread from her face down to her neck and chest, painting her skin with the evidence of her arousal. She could see her nipples, hard and dark, and the slight parting of her thighs that she hadn't consciously chosen.
 
"This is what he would see," she whispered to her reflection. If Ravi were here right now, if by some miracle or mistake he walked into this bathroom, this is what he would see.
 
A woman in the full flower of her sexuality, naked and flushed with desire, her body practically begging to be touched.
 
The thought should have shamed her. Instead, it inflamed her.
 
She wondered if he thought about her. If he lay in bed at night and remembered the curve of her waist, the sway of her hips, the way her saree clung to her body.
 
Did he imagine what she looked like without it?
Did he picture her breasts, her thighs, the softness of her stomach?
Did he touch himself while thinking of her?
 
The image of Ravi, alone in his bed, his hand wrapped around himself, thinking of her, it made her gasp. It made heat flood through her body in a rush that left her dizzy. It made her desperately, achingly aroused.
 
She pressed her thighs together, trying to ease the building pressure there, but it only made it worse. She could feel her own wetness, the evidence of how much her body wanted what her mind kept saying she couldn't have.
 
"This is wrong," she whispered, but the words held no conviction. Her body was singing with need, every nerve alive and demanding attention.
 
Her breasts felt heavy and aching, her nipples so sensitive that even the air moving across them felt like a caress. And between her legs, she throbbed with a need that was becoming impossible to ignore.
 
She looked at herself one more time, memorizing the image. This woman in the mirror, beautiful, sensual, alive with desire, this was her. This was who she was beneath all the roles and expectations.
 
This was the woman Ravi had awakened without even trying.
 
And this was the woman who desperately needed release.
 
She turned away from the mirror and walked to the shower, her legs slightly unsteady.

.

[shailu4ever]

.

 

Her body swayed as she moved, her breasts bouncing gently with each step, and she was acutely aware of every sensation, the cool tile under her feet, the air against her naked skin, the slide of her thighs against each other.
 
She turned on the water, adjusting the temperature. Not cold, she decided. She didn't want to shock her system or kill this feeling.
 
She wanted to feel, wanted to explore these sensations even if it was dangerous. She set the water to warm, not hot enough to be uncomfortable, but warm enough to be sensuous, enveloping.
 
The water came to life with a hiss, and she stepped under the spray.
 
The first touch of water against her heated skin made her gasp. The temperature was perfect, warm enough to soothe, hot enough to awaken every nerve ending.
 
It cascaded over her head, the pressure steady and insistent, and she felt the water saturating her long black hair, weighing it down until it clung to her back in heavy, wet ropes.
 
She tilted her face up into the spray, letting it stream directly over her closed eyes, her cheeks, her parted lips.
 
Water ran into her mouth and she swallowed, tasting the clean heat of it. Some droplets caught on her eyelashes, and she blinked them away, watching through the blur as the bathroom disappeared behind a curtain of steam and moisture.
 
The water ran down her neck in dozens of small streams, each one tracing a different path across her skin.
 
She could feel every single rivulet, one running down the hollow of her throat, another along the side of her neck, a third following the curve where her neck met her shoulder.
 
The sensation was overwhelming in its detail, as if the water was mapping her body with liquid fingers.
 
Her hands moved to her neck, following the water's path, feeling the slickness of her wet skin.
 
She traced the line from her jaw down to her collarbones, feeling how the water pooled briefly in the delicate hollows there before overflowing and continuing its journey downward.
 
The water reached her collarbones and separated into rivulets that ran down over her shoulders and arms, but the main streams, the ones that commanded her attention, that made her breath catch, those ran straight down over her chest.

.

[shailu4ever]

.

 

The spray hit the upper curves of her breasts first, warm and insistent, the pressure creating a sensation that was both soothing and stimulating.
 
She looked down through the cascading water and watched, mesmerized, as streams ran over the full rounds of her breasts, dividing and reforming as they encountered the obstacles of her body.
 
Some droplets clung to her skin, held there by surface tension for a moment before being swept away by the next wave.
 
The water flowed over her nipples with a pressure that made her gasp.
 
They were already hard from the cool air, but now, with the warm water pulsing against them with rhythmic insistence, they became almost painfully sensitive, standing out prominently, aching for touch.
 
Each drop that hit them sent a jolt of sensation straight down through her core, creating a direct line of feeling from her breasts to the heat building between her thighs.
 
She shifted slightly, adjusting the angle, and felt the showerhead's spray concentrate more directly on her left breast.
 
The increased pressure made her bite her lip, her hand unconsciously moving to her other breast, cupping it, feeling its weight as the water continued its assault on the first.
 
The contrast was exquisite, one breast receiving the full attention of the water, the other cradled in her own warm palm.
 
She switched positions, letting the water focus on her right breast now, and her left hand moved to the breast that had just been under the spray, feeling how hot the skin was, how sensitized, how her nipple was hard as a pebble beneath her exploring fingers.
 
The water continued its downward journey, streams running down the valley between her breasts, that perfect channel that she knew men's eyes always seemed drawn to.
 
She watched the water flow there, gathering speed as it ran down over her ribcage, her stomach, following the gentle curve of her belly.
 
Some of the water ran down her sides, tickling as it traced the curve from ribcage to waist, then continuing over the swell of her hips.
 
Other streams ran more centrally, down over her navel, pooling there for just a moment before overflowing and continuing downward to where she was most sensitive, most aware, most achingly in need of touch.

.

[shailu4ever]

.

 

The water ran down her thighs now, following the full curves, and she could feel every drop as it traveled over her skin.
 
Some streams ran down the front of her thighs, others down the sides, and still others down the backs, behind her knees, all the way to her ankles and feet. The sensation was total, encompassing, as if she was being touched everywhere at once.
 
She widened her stance slightly, letting the water flow more freely between her thighs, and gasped at the sensation. Even the indirect touch of water running over her was almost too much.
 
She was so sensitive, so aware, every nerve ending alive and begging for attention that went beyond the innocent caress of shower water.
 
She reached for the soap, her hands trembling slightly.
 
The bar was smooth and slippery in her palm, and she worked it between her hands, watching as the white foam built and multiplied, creating clouds of lather that looked almost innocent despite what she was about to do with it.
 
And then, with a sense of both inevitability and sin, she began to wash her body.
 
But she wasn't just washing. She was touching. Exploring. Feeling. Worshipping.
 
She started with her shoulders, running her soapy hands over the smooth skin there, feeling the way her palms glided effortlessly across her wet body.
 
The soap created a slickness that was almost erotic in itself, reducing friction to nearly nothing, allowing her hands to slide and flow over her curves as easily as the water did.
 
She worked down her arms, taking her time, soaping each one from shoulder to wrist, feeling the delicate bones at her wrists, the softness of her inner arms.
 
Then back up, her palms sliding up the underside of her arms, that sensitive skin that so few people ever touched, and she shivered at her own caress.
 
Her hands moved across her upper chest, spreading soap over her collarbones, that delicate architecture of bone and skin that she had always thought was one of her most elegant features.
 
She let her fingers trace the hollows there, feeling how the soap filled them temporarily before being washed away by the relentless water.
 
And then, inevitably, her hands moved to her breasts, and any pretense of simple bathing disappeared entirely.

.

[shailu4ever]

.

 

Priya cupped them in her soapy hands, and a moan escaped her lips that was louder than she intended, echoing off the tile walls.
 
The slickness of the soap, the warmth of the water, the sensitivity of her flesh, it was almost too much sensation to bear.
 
She lifted them slightly, feeling their weight, then let her palms slide over the full rounds, soap making the movement effortless, sensuous, deliberately provocative even though she was alone.
 
Her hands knew what they wanted to do now, and there was no point in denying it. She let her fingers play over her breasts, exploring, squeezing, kneading the full flesh with increasing pressure.
 
Her palms ran over her nipples, and the soap made the friction both less and more, less resistance but more sensation, the slickness allowing her to move in ways that dry skin wouldn't permit.
 
She took her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, pinching gently at first, then harder, rolling them, pulling them, watching through the steam and water as they elongated under her touch, darkening even further, becoming almost painfully sensitive.
 
Each pinch, each roll, each pull sent lightning bolts of pleasure shooting straight down to her core, making her thighs clench, making her breath come in short gasps.
 
"Ravi," she whispered, and this time it wasn't accidental. This time it was deliberate, an invocation, calling him into this space with her even though he was miles away.
 
She pictured his hands replacing hers, his larger, stronger hands cupping her breasts, his rough fingers on her nipples, his mouth, oh God, his mouth, closing over one hard peak while his hand worked the other.
 
The image was so vivid she could almost feel it, could almost feel the heat of his breath on her wet skin, the scbang of his teeth, the suction of his lips.
 
She squeezed her breasts harder, imagining it was him, imagining the hunger in his eyes as he finally got to see and touch what he had clearly been thinking about.
 
Her hands slid down from her breasts, soap trailing behind them, leaving paths of foam on her skin that the water immediately began washing away.
 
She soaped her stomach, her sides, working her way around to her back, reaching as far as she could, feeling the dip of her spine, the swell of her hips.

.

[shailu4ever]

.

 

She turned, letting the water hit her back directly, and gasped at the sensation.
 
The pressure of the spray on her spine, on her shoulders, on the small of her back, it was like a massage, like strong hands working out tension she hadn't known she was carrying.
 
She arched slightly, pushing her bottom back into the spray, and felt the water hit the full curves there with surprising force.
 
She ran her soapy hands over her hips, feeling the generous width of them, then back to cup her bottom, squeezing the full flesh, feeling how it yielded and bounced back.
 
She imagined Ravi's hands here, gripping her hips, pulling her back against him, his body hard and insistent against her softness.
 
The thought made her throb with need.
 
She turned back to face the showerhead, the water now hitting her full in the face and chest again, and knew she couldn't delay any longer.
 
Her body was demanding something, screaming for release, for touch, for satisfaction that only she could provide right now.
 
One hand moved back to her breast, cupping and squeezing, maintaining that connection, that stimulation. The other hand slid down over her stomach, moving with purpose now, with clear intent.
 
She could feel her own heat even through the warm water, could feel how swollen she was, how wet with something that had nothing to do with the shower.
 
She traced the edge first, teasing herself, her fingers running through the dark triangle of hair, then along the crease where her thigh met her body.
 
She was prolonging the moment, building the anticipation, even though her body was practically screaming for direct touch.
 
And then, finally, her fingers found what they were seeking. The warm wet spot. She gasped at the first touch, her head falling back, water streaming over her face.
 
She was incredibly sensitive, every nerve ending firing, and even the lightest touch sent shockwaves through her body.
 
She was swollen, slick with her own arousal, and the realization of how much her body wanted this, wanted him, made her moan softly.
 
She explored gently at first, relearning her own geography, her fingers sliding through her wetness, discovering how ready she was, how desperate.

.

[shailu4ever]

.

 

She traced the outer folds first, feeling how soft and plump they were, sensitized by arousal and anticipation. Every touch made her hips shift involuntarily, seeking more contact, more pressure.
 
Her fingers moved inward, parting her folds, and she felt the shock of touching herself so intimately, so deliberately.
 
She had never done this before, not like this, not with such focused intent, not while imagining a man's face, his hands, his body. The newness of it, the transgression of it, only heightened the sensation.
 
She found her entrance first, circling it with gentle fingers, feeling how her body responded, how it seemed to pulse and contract with need.
 
She dipped one finger inside slightly, just to the first knuckle, and gasped at the heat, the tightness, the way her inner muscles clenched around even that small intrusion.
 
She imagined it was Ravi's finger instead of her own, imagined him exploring her this way, learning her body, discovering how wet she was for him.
 
But it was higher that she needed to touch most desperately. Her fingers moved upward, sliding through her slickness, until she found that small bundle of nerves that made her entire body jerk when she touched it.
 
Even the lightest brush sent electricity coursing through her, and she had to brace herself more firmly against the wall.
 
She began to circle it slowly, deliberately, using the pads of two fingers, applying just enough pressure to send waves of pleasure radiating outward.
 
The water continued to fall over her, adding its own stimulation, and she felt caught between multiple sensations, her own fingers below, the water above, and her body stretched between them like a bow string pulled taut.
 
Her other hand squeezed her breast in rhythm with the circles below, and she felt the two sensations start to merge, to build on each other.
 
Every squeeze of her breast seemed to amplify what she was feeling between her legs, every circle of her fingers made her nipple more sensitive under her palm.
 
Pleasure from her breast, pleasure from between her legs, both spiraling upward, intertwining, amplifying each other until she couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.
 
She increased the speed slightly, the pressure, her fingers moving in tight circles now, finding the rhythm that made her breath come in gasps.

.

[marcjstn]

This is training material ... uff - amazing writing ...

[RCF]

Wow...Never thought I would see a day in this site where I can read a woman's desire in her thoughts in depth. I wouldn't ever call other stories shallow but this aspect of what woman thinks when she craves for her man is captivating. Every thought, reaction, subtle touch she imagines, her wanton need flowing through every nerve..coming alive right through the words, making me feel the heat emanating from her thoughts on the page. Probably I experienced such passion in my marriage many times through my wife's actions but never in words or thoughts so it is opening lot of memories for me and giving other perspective lol

Superb writing..if her thoughts are so hot, wonder how the first experience will be for these two when they fully commit to each other :)

~RCF

[srinivasulu]

Excellent update Shailu, Can't wait for the real action with Ravi....
Tsunami on the way
..

[shailu4ever]

This is training material ... uff - amazing writing ...

Hi marcjstn
 
Thank you so much for your compliments. I'm really glad you found the writing engaging. If there's anything specific you think could make it even better or more aligned with your expectations, I’d love to hear more.
 
Once again, thank you for your encouragement.
 
With warm regards
 
-- Shailu