Adultery Undercover Desires

[Ayush01111]

My question is when father in law and danish both are playing there role why there is no rntry for rahul even danish is playing with kavya mom i think #Justicefor rahul is necessary let make him new boss of danish and he should humilate him and to rescue new husband kavya should play with Rahul it will be new undercover desire

[PELURI]

good idea ayush bro !. going a step further, i suggest Rahul should come back strongly and fuck Trisha, as punishment for raising a girl to become cock hungry !

[masti.bhai]

Fuck Rahul. He's history. He will just clean Danish and Feroze's shoes, who are the real men of the story with huge cut Lunds.

[John446]

CHAPTER – 79


Feroz slipped out of the room, He walked down the corridor to his own bedroom, shoulders tense, heart still pounding unevenly. The house was silent except for the soft drip of rain from the eaves and the occasional creak of settling wood. In his room, he stood under the shower for a long time—cold water first, then hot—trying to wash away the guilt that clung to him like damp cloth. He had crossed lines last night—tasted her skin, felt her tremble, let desire override every vow he had made to himself and to his son. The memory of her moans, the way she had pulled him closer, the softness of her body beneath him—it all burned in his mind, making his hands shake as he dried off. He dressed in a fresh kurta, sat on the edge of his bed, and stared at the floor, guilt a heavy stone in his chest. He prayed silently—head bowed, hands clasped—asking for forgiveness, for strength, for the ability to look Kavya in the eye at breakfast without shame.
Kavya lay alone in her room after he left, the bed suddenly too big, too cold. She curled into a ball under the sheet, nighty still bunched at her waist, bare legs drawn up. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks—not loud sobs, just quiet, steady weeping. Shame flooded her in waves
this was her father-in-law, the man who had calmed her childhood fears, who had protected her secrets, who had treated her like a daughter. How could she have let him kiss her neck, her cleavage, hold her so intimately? How could she have moaned, arched, wanted more? The guilt was suffocating—betraying Danish, betraying the family, betraying herself. She loved her husband, missed him fiercely, yet last night she had surrendered to his father’s touch in ways she couldn’t explain. Deep inside, beneath the shame, lingered that confusing awe—the strength of a man her father’s age, the caring tenderness mixed with raw power, the way he had made her feel safe and desired at the same time. It was wrong, sinful, but the intensity of it lingered, making her body still tingle even as guilt made her stomach churn.
She showered quickly—hot water pounding her skin, trying to wash away the memory of his lips, his stubble, his hands. She dressed in a simple sky-blue salwar kameez, hair tied back in a loose braid, face scrubbed clean. She avoided looking in the mirror too long—afraid of what she would see.
The house was still quiet, Feroz probably in the veranda or his study. Kavya moved on autopilot: gas stove lit, milk set to boil, dough kneaded for parathas, potatoes grated and spiced. She prepared breakfast with mechanical care—aloo parathas (extra butter for Feroz, as he liked), fresh curd, mango pickle, adrak chai with just the right amount of elaichi.
When everything was ready, she arranged two plates on the small breakfast table in the dining area. She served Feroz first—two hot parathas, a generous dollop of curd, pickle on the side—then herself.
She carried the tray to the veranda where he usually sat at this hour.
Feroz was there, newspaper open but unread, tea cup untouched, eyes distant. He looked up when he heard her footsteps.
Kavya set the tray down carefully, avoiding his gaze.
“Breakfast, Papa,” she said softly, voice steady but quiet.
He looked at the plate, then at her—eyes meeting hers for the first time since the bedroom. “Thank you, beta.”
She served herself and sat across from him.
They ate in near silence.
The clink of spoons against plates, the soft sound of chewing, the occasional sip of chai. Neither spoke much. When Kavya passed him the pickle, their fingers brushed—barely a touch, but both flinched slightly, pulling back as if burned.
Feroz cleared his throat once. “The parathas are perfect.”
Kavya gave a small smile. “I added extra aloo… like you like.”
He nodded. “Just right.”
Another long silence.
When they finished, Kavya stood to clear the plates. Feroz stood too, reaching to help.
Their hands brushed again as they both reached for the same dish.
This time neither pulled away immediately.
For three long seconds their fingers lingered—warm, tentative—eyes meeting across the table.
Then Kavya looked down, cheeks flushing. “I’ll… clean up.”
Feroz nodded, stepping back. “I’ll be in the veranda.”
He left.
Kavya stood alone in the kitchen, hands gripping the edge of the sink, heart racing.
The guilt was still there—sharp, unrelenting—but so was the memory of his arms around her, his lips on her neck, the way he had calmed her fear with such tenderness.
She washed the dishes slowly, mind replaying the night—his caring, his strength, his restraint.
And deep inside, beneath the shame, a small, forbidden part of her wondered what would happen if the storm came again.
In the veranda, Feroz sat with his tea, staring at the roses, guilt a heavy stone in his chest.
But the memory of her softness, her moans, her trust lingered—warm, dangerous, impossible to forget.
The house was quiet.
But the tension between them had never been louder.
The day passed in a quiet, almost mechanical rhythm. Around 4:30 PM, Kavya’s phone buzzed on the table. Danish’s name lit up the screen.
She answered on the second ring, voice soft but eager. “Hey… how’s Mumbai?”
Danish’s voice came through warm, tired, but buzzing with excitement. “Jaan… they made the final decision. They selected me.”
Kavya’s breath caught. She stood up from her chair, free hand pressing to her chest. “Really? Danish… oh my god. Tell me everything!”
He laughed—low, relieved. “The interviews went perfectly. The CTO liked my last round presentation. They offered the lead role—better package, stock options, everything. They’re just finalizing the joining date and the city. Could be Hyderabad, which would be perfect, or Mumbai if they need me onsite for the first few months. They’ll confirm in a couple of days.”
Kavya sank back into the chair, smiling so wide her cheeks hurt. “I’m so proud of you. You deserve this. We’ll figure out whatever city it is… together.”
“Yeah,” he said, softer now. “I miss you already. Can’t wait to come home tonight.
She laughed, voice dropping. “I’ll be waiting. In something special.”
“God, don’t tease me when I’m stuck in a hotel room,” he groaned playfully. “I love you.”
“I love you too. Safe flight tomorrow.”
They talked a few more minutes—small things, sweet things—then hung up.
Kavya sat there for a long moment, phone still in hand, smile lingering. The news felt like a bright spot after the heavy night, a reminder of the life she and Danish were building. She stood, stretched, and walked to the kitchen to start early dinner prep—something simple and comforting for when Danish called again later.
Feroz was in the living room, newspaper folded, staring out the window when he heard her footsteps. He looked up.
Kavya paused in the doorway. “Papa… Danish just called. He got the job. Final selection done. They’re just deciding the joining date and city.”
Feroz’s face lit up—genuine, paternal pride. “That’s wonderful, beta. I knew he would. He’s always been brilliant.”
Kavya nodded, smile small but real. “He’ll be back tonight. I’m… really happy for him.
Feroz stood, walked to her slowly. “You should be. You both deserve this.”
They stood a few feet apart—close enough to feel the familiar pull, far enough to keep the boundary intact.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Kavya said quietly, “Thank you… for last night. For staying with me.”
Feroz’s throat worked. “Always, beta. You were scared. I couldn’t leave you alone.”
She nodded, eyes dropping to the floor. “I know.”
Another silence—loaded, gentle.
“I’ll… make tea,” she said finally.
He nodded. “I’ll be on the veranda.”
She went to the kitchen. He walked outside.
The evening after Danish’s final interview round. Danish sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, room lit only by the bedside lamp and the glow of the city outside the window. Kavya had called earlier—happy, excited, telling him she’d made his favourite aloo parathas for when he got back.
Now, alone in the quiet hotel room, Danish opened WhatsApp and scrolled to the chat with Trisha—saved as “Mummy ji ❤️”.
He hesitated only a second, then typed.
Danish 8:48 PM Namaste Mummy ji ? Just wanted to tell you personally—got the news today. They selected me for the new role. Better salary, more responsibility, everything we hoped for. Still waiting on the final joining date and city, but it looks good. Thank you for always believing in me. Kavya is over the moon ?
He hit send, heart beating a little faster than usual.
In Delhi, Trisha was in the kitchen, rolling out dough for dinner while Rajesh watched TV in the living room. Her phone buzzed on the counter. She wiped her hands on her saree pallu, picked it up, and read the message.
A slow, proud smile spread across her face—genuine happiness for Danish, for her daughter, for the life they were building. But beneath it, that familiar pang stirred—the one she tried to ignore every time his name appeared.
She typed back quickly.
Mummy ji 8:51 PM Namaste beta ? Jai Shri Krishna! This is such wonderful news. I’m so proud of you—very proud. You worked so hard for this. Kavya must be dancing around the house ? We’ll pray for the best city and joining date. Come visit soon with the good news in person. Papa ji will be thrilled too.
Danish 8:53 PM Thank you, Mummy ji. Your blessings mean a lot. Will definitely come soon. How’s Papa ji today?
Mummy ji 8:55 PM Much better. He walked the whole colony this morning without stopping. Keeps asking when you both will visit again ? Take care of yourself in Mumbai. Eat properly—no skipping meals.
Danish 8:56 PM Promise. Good night, Mummy ji ❤️ Jai Shri Krishna.
Mummy ji 8:57 PM Radhe Radhe, beta ?
Trisha set the phone down, smile lingering. She felt a quiet joy for them—Danish’s success, Kavya’s happiness—but beneath it was that familiar pang, the one she tried to ignore every time his name appeared on her screen. She turned back to the dough, rolling it with steady hands, but her mind drifted to the memory of a certain goodbye hug, a certain goodbye kiss on the neck, a certain night she still couldn’t fully forget.
In Mumbai, Danish pocketed his phone, smiling softly. He stood, stretched, and walked to the window, looking out at the city lights.
He didn’t open the chat again.
But he didn’t need to.
Some conversations live in the spaces between words.
Danish sat on the edge of the bed, laptop open on his knees, the city lights glittering through the window behind him. The interview process had wrapped earlier that day, and the offer email had arrived just minutes ago—subject line: “Formal Offer – Lead Developer Position.”
He opened it slowly, heart thudding.
The salary was impressive: 45% higher than his current package, plus stock options, performance bonus, and relocation assistance. The role came with significantly more responsibility—leading a team of 12, owning key product features, reporting directly to the CTO. The joining date was flexible, within 30 days.
Then came the line that made him pause:
Location Options:
·       Hyderabad (preferred for continuity with your current team)
·       Delhi (new expansion hub, closer to key clients)
He stared at the word Delhi.
The cursor hovered.
His mind flashed back—unbidden, vivid, unstoppable.
That last morning in Delhi. The goodbye hug in the kitchen. Trisha’s body pressed against his, warm and soft. The way her arms had slid around his neck, fingers curling into his hair. The way he had dipped his face into the curve of her throat, lips parting, breathing her in—jasmine, skin, warmth. The soft gasp she made when his mouth opened against her pulse, when his hand slid low to squeeze the curve of her hip. The way she had held him tighter instead of pulling away.
He remembered the taste of her neck—salt and sweetness. The faint red mark he had left. The way her breath had trembled against his ear.
His throat went dry.
He closed his eyes for a moment, the memory so sharp it hurt.
Then he opened them again.
The email stared back at him.
Hyderabad or Delhi.
He exhaled slowly.
His fingers moved to the reply box.
Subject: Acceptance of Offer – Lead Developer Position Dear Manager,
Thank you for the offer and for the opportunity to join the team. I am thrilled to accept the role. I would like to select Delhi as my preferred location.
Please let me know the next steps regarding the joining date and relocation process.
Best regards, Danish Khan
He hit send.
The email whooshed away.
Danish leaned back against the headboard, phone still in hand.
He stared at the ceiling for a long time.
Guilt flickered briefly—sharp, familiar—but it was quickly drowned out by something else.
Anticipation.
He opened WhatsApp, scrolled to “Mummy ji ❤️”.
He didn’t type anything.
Not yet.
But the thought of Delhi—of seeing her again, of standing in that same kitchen, of feeling that same warmth—settled deep in his chest like a promise.
He locked the phone, set it on the nightstand, and lay back.
Danish reached Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj International Airport in Mumbai around 8:30 PM, suitcase in tow, still buzzing from the final meeting. The offer letter had been signed earlier that afternoon, the salary package confirmed, and the HR manager had casually mentioned the posting decision would be emailed by evening. He was ready to head home—back to Hyderabad, back to Kavya, back to the life they were building.
He checked in, cleared security, and found a quiet corner near Gate 32 with a charging point. The flight was scheduled for 10:15 PM—a short one-hour hop. He pulled out his phone to text Kavya the good news properly.
But just as he opened WhatsApp, the airport announcement crackled over the speakers:
“Attention passengers of Indigo flight 6E-524 to Hyderabad. Due to sudden adverse weather conditions the flight has been delayed. The new departure time is 7:00 AM tomorrow. We apologize for the inconvenience. Passengers are requested to contact the airline desk for hotel vouchers if required.”
Danish stared at the board. Delayed till morning. He exhaled sharply, rubbing his face. Not the homecoming he had planned.
He dialled Kavya immediately.
She answered on the second ring, voice sleepy but warm. “Hey… you at the gate?”
“Yeah,” he said, leaning back against the seat. “But… bad news. Flight’s delayed till 7 AM. Weather’s messed up.
Kavya groaned softly. “Seriously? I was all set to pick you up at midnight with coffee and hugs.”
He smiled despite himself. “I’ll take a rain check on the hugs. I’m just gonna crash at the airport lounge or grab a hotel voucher.”
They talked for a few minutes—small things, sweet things—before he took a breath and said, “Listen, jaan… I got the official offer today. Signed it this afternoon.”
Kavya’s voice brightened instantly. “Danish! Oh my god. They gave me Delhi.
A short silence on her end.
“Delhi?” she repeated, tone shifting from excitement to surprise. “Not Hyderabad?”
“Yeah,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “They have a new expansion hub there, closer to key clients. They said it’s the better fit for the role. We can always request a transfer later if it doesn’t work, but… this is a big step up.”
Kavya exhaled slowly. “Wow. Okay. Delhi… that’s… far. But if it’s better for your career, we’ll figure it out. We always do.”
He heard the tiny crack in her voice—the disappointment she was trying to hide. “I know it’s not what we planned,” he said softly. “But it’s a huge opportunity. We’ll make it work. I promise.”
She was quiet for a second. “I know. I’m proud of you. Really. Just… I’ll miss you more than I thought if it’s Delhi.”
“Me too,” he said. “But we’ll visit a lot. And maybe you can come with me sometimes. We’ll make it ours.”
She laughed softly. “Deal. Now go find a comfortable chair and sleep. I love you.”
“I love you too. Good night, jaan.”
He ended the call, stared at the phone for a long moment, then opened the chat with Trisha.
Danish 10:42 PM Mummy ji, flight delayed till morning because of weather. Just wanted to tell you… I got the job. They gave me Delhi.
He hit send.
In Delhi, Trisha was in the kitchen, washing dishes after dinner, when her phone buzzed on the counter. She dried her hands, picked it up, and read the message.
Her breath caught.
Delhi.
The city where she lived. Where he would be living. Where they would be… close.
Her heart gave a sharp, guilty thud.
She stared at the screen, fingers trembling slightly.
Mummy ji 10:45 PM Namaste beta ? Jai Shri Krishna! I’m so proud of you—this is huge. Delhi… that’s… wonderful news. Kavya must be thrilled. When do you join?
Danish 10:47 PM Thank you, Mummy ji. Joining date in 30 days max. Kavya’s happy, but… it’s a big change. I’ll keep you updated.
Mummy ji 10:49 PM Of course. We’ll be here. Safe travels tomorrow. Get some rest.
Danish 10:50 PM Will do. Good night, Mummy ji ❤️ Radhe Radhe.
Mummy ji 10:51 PM Good night, beta ? Radhe Radhe.
She set the phone down, hands still damp from the sink, and stared at the dark window.
Delhi.
He was coming to Delhi.
The guilt she had carried since that goodbye morning—the hug that had lasted too long, the kiss on her neck she still felt in quiet moments—surged back, hot and sharp.
But beneath it, buried deep, was something else.
A quiet, forbidden spark of anticipation.
She turned off the kitchen light and walked to bed, heart beating faster than it had in years.
In Mumbai, Danish leaned back against the airport seat, staring at the delayed flight board.
Delhi.
He was going to Delhi.
And Trisha was there.
He closed his eyes, the memory of that goodbye hug flooding back—her warmth, her scent, the way she had held him just a little too long.
He didn’t know what it meant.
But he knew he was going back to the city where it had started.
And that thought, guilty as it was, made his heart race.
 

[PELURI]

thanks for the quick update....posting at Delhi is great news for fans of Danish....

[momass]

Fuck Rahul. He's history. He will just clean Danish and Feroze's shoes, who are the real men of the story with huge cut Lunds.

another reader without reading full story ??

[momass]

rahul - the man

1. who loved his wife very much and working hard for her happiness and was taking care of all her needs
2. a great friend - never think for a second for helping his friend


people used him and thrown him out like he is nothing else ,why , whats was his mistake ?? trusting his wife ? friend ? or working for his wife happiness ??

i dont care what danish and feeroz will do to kavya or trishna, let them pregnant these sluts,or sell these mom daughter in market ,i dont care


all i care is justice for rahul , he deserve some respect and you cant ignore ,at the beginning of story ,writer showned too much respect ,showned his a very good person and husband ,then why writer simply thrown him out, you cant when you forced us to connect to every character


#JUSTICE_FOR_RAHUL

[Chennaiboy]

 WHAT A BRILLANT STORY TELLER. A NICE WAY TO MOVE THE STORY. 

[Paul5]

good idea ayush bro !. going a step further, i suggest Rahul should come back strongly and fuck Trisha,  as punishment for raising a girl to become cock hungry !

Woh great idia as per your opinion now Rahul entered in this story as heero and he humilat Danish and catch up Kavya again they live together as husband wife and finish story happy ending Great idia i think all adultery stories got same

[Paty@123]

Disappointed

[John446]

Disappointed

Can you please tell me why are you disappointed?
it will help me to understand my audience better

[Minki]

Can you please tell me why are you disappointed?
it will help me to understand my audience better

please ignore it you are doing best but anyhow you took attention on your criticism in positive way it's a good sign i suggest party 123 please elaborate properly why you feel disappointment

[Chennaiboy]

DEAR, EAGERLY WAITING FOR THE NEXT EPISODE.

[Dumeelkumar]

Here in hyderabad kavya body is cheating her. Whereas in mumbai Danish had planned to cheat her. once a bitch is always a bitch and once a cheat is always a cheat. First he made kavya divorce her husband. now he will make kavya mother divorce her husband. Very good.

[Paty@123]

మీరు ఎందుకు నిరాశ చెందారో దయచేసి నాకు చెప్పగలరా?
అది నా ప్రేక్షకులను బాగా అర్థం చేసుకోవడానికి నాకు సహాయపడుతుంది.

Why disappointed, because Danish already cheated Rahul, and kavya has also cheated Rahul, now kavya is trying to  cheating Danish, and Danish is trying to cheating kavya, where is the end for cheating, cheaters should be punished and Rahul should get revenge and justis, in that direction story is not going sir, may be some readers like but my view is this plz, If I disappoint you also I t is my view, sorry for that

[Chennaiboy]

THIS IS A SEX STORY AND NOT A MORAL STORY. ADULTERY MEANS CHEATING. A STORY ASSUMES AN EROTIC NATURE ONLY WHEN THERE IS A CHEATING. IF IT IS A STRAIGHT STORY THEN FIRE WILL NOT BE THERE

[Ritoo]

THIS IS A SEX STORY AND NOT A MORAL STORY. ADULTERY MEANS CHEATING. A STORY ASSUMES AN EROTIC NATURE ONLY WHEN THERE IS A CHEATING. IF IT IS A STRAIGHT STORY THEN FIRE WILL NOT BE THERE

Absulataly right i think on this point now finished all debates who's are demanding justice for Rahul pl stops all unnecessary demand 
R

[Ayush01111]

Absulataly right i think on this point now finished all debates who's are demanding justice for Rahul pl stops all unnecessary demand 
R

We are not demanding just justice ki kayva mafi mange we just want ki jaise danish ne kavya ko cheena waise hi ab rahul kare or phor vo kayva ko ise and trough kare destroy both of them

[Chennaiboy]

Dear Author, Today Sunday and Holiday. Expecting a hot episode from you.

[Thangaraasu]

Very good. This is called survival of the fittest.