Adultery Dhika - An Innocent Angel

[Klauacami]

Hey writer I knew you are not interested right now but atleast you come online one time and let us knew whether we wait and leave this masterpiece of writing

[Klauacami]

I was waiting that some day writer come back and start writing so I never read all updates left some but now I finished....and eagerly wants him to continue to see what happens in maxico and when she returns from trip how she reacts to chotu and how he responds and twins specially Bantu how much he can handle him self and till when dikha can control his urge with Bantu.... waiting

[Klauacami]

No one wanted to continue even on other thread

[Klauacami]

Khani barbaad ho gyi ab

[Klauacami]

Updates are coming

[Klauacami]

A gem lost in negligence

[amitkumarmsip]

I still come here once a week in the hope that one day the writer will come back and continue

[Klauacami]

We hope one day he will come back again

[devinnelust]

I really like it.I hobe so the writer continue it.His uses of image or GIF make me feel it more.If there were stories with such gif then tell me. 

I also finding stories about the love between sister-in-law (Bhabi, Brother's wife) and brother-in-law(husband’s brother, Devor).I couldn’t find any popular story about this topic. So if you know one then tell me.

[Klauacami]

Comeback writer

[Klauacami]

Waiting

[worshipper]

someone please continue this epic!!

[AnkitaR]

Absolutely amazing story devil
Hope you are doing well and overcame your loss

I thank you for writing this masterpiece

[Tarun..]

One of my favourite story
Hope writer makes a grand comeback

[JGoga]

Hello all. Based on story below, I have written next update from where the story left off. Please all read the story and give me your feedback whether I should continue or not. 

The rain had thickened after the hall. It came sideways across the road, white in the headlights, black beyond them. Scott’s car was a long dark sedan. Leather, warm from the drive. Wet wool, his cologne, a faint sweet from the vent. The wipers beat a slow two-count. The driver kept it barely past forty. The resort lights were still a smear.

Dhika was in Raj’s lap because the middle seat had been Scott’s idea. She sat sideways, knees toward the door, one hand on the seat back so she would not have to face him. The maroon saree had drunk the rain. Silk gone thin, stuck to her breasts, her waist, the round of her hips. The pallu had slipped. Her midriff was bare. The wet blouse showed the full shape of her breasts, the pink of her nipples clear and already tight against the cloth.

The arm around her waist was warm. She knew that arm. She had held him once, in a darker room, while Sharmi was between them. Thick. Long. Her fingers had closed around him and felt him pulse. Sitting on his lap, she was already trying not to measure him again. Her eyes were hot. Her nipples were hard.

Scott looked. He did not hide it, and he did not reach.

Scott: You wear the rain remarkably well. Most women look bedraggled. You look like something out of a painting.

She turned. The smile came shy, eyes dropping as soon as they met his, colour in her cheeks.

Dhika: Thank you. I don’t think the rain agrees.

She looked back to the glass. Not to dismiss him. Her breath was already wrong, and the window was the only place to put her face.

Then the bump. One. The driver had not seen it. Rain, and night, and the wipers beating too slow. The tyre took it. The car dropped, and Dhika dropped with it, fully, onto Raj’s lap.

Scott’s hand brushed the saree at her knee and stayed a second, then drew back. Raj’s arm locked around her waist. Her shoulder was thrown into his chest. He was hard under the wet saree, and the bump drove her down the length of him. The same weight she had held that night, thick enough that the drop opened her against him through the cloth. A shock went through her nipples. A sound started in her throat. She killed it.

The bump was over. She was still shifted forward. Shoulder on his chest. He was pressed up into her, seated where she was hottest. She did not climb off. The thought came clear: she could sit like this. Shoulder on his chest. Him under her. Not for another bump. For the rest of the drive.

Angel Dhika: Sit up. If you keep your shoulder there, what will Raj think of you?

Devil Dhika: One bump and you want to act pure? He is under you. You can do at least this much for Raj bhaiya. Don’t waste it.

She wanted the shoulder to stay. She made herself sit back. That was new. Angel Dhika had talked through the twins, through Uncle, through Chotu, and Dhika had smiled and not listened. Raj was not them. He had not pulled her down. He had not used the bump. He was a gentleman, and with a gentleman she heard the warning. She sat back because it was him.

Every breath still dragged her a fraction along him. The heat stayed there.

Raj: The hotel is close. You’ll be warm soon.

Warm. She was already feeling warm, but somewhere else. Here. Split over him, nipples stiff, eyes wet with it. She did not say it.

His free hand found the pallu and drew it up over her shoulder. His knuckles crossed the bare curve of her breast, over the hard nipple, and left it. The cloth stayed. She almost pushed her chest back into him. She did not.

Scott’s mouth curved, pleased, eyes on the wet silk.

Scott: Then I have been lucky for the length of the drive. You thanked the rain. I am thanking it too. It has better taste than most galleries.

His eyes stayed on the wet blouse, on the nipples showing through it, then lower, where the saree had shaped itself over the mound he was pressed into.

Scott: Nature has excellent taste.

Dhika’s shy smile thinned. She nodded, once, so she was not ignoring him. Her breath was not her own. She kept her face to the glass. Under her, he had not eased. She could feel the ridge of him. She knew that ridge.

The heater was on low. Wet cloth steamed against leather. Rain on the roof. The road after the bump was smooth, and that was worse. She was already sitting on the length of him. Each breath moved her. The heat there clung, soaked for a reason that was not the rain. Her shoulder wanted his chest. She gave it to him for three breaths, nipples brushing his shirt, him nudged deeper by the lean, then took the shoulder back, late.

Angel Dhika: He will know you are sitting on it on purpose. What will Raj think of you?

Devil Dhika: He already feels you there, and he has not moved you off. That is an answer. Do this much for Raj bhaiya. He is hard for you. Be a little kind. Stay on it.

Raj’s jaw was set. His hand on her waist did not wander. He was hard under her, and he knew she could feel all of him, and he kept his hips still. His shoulder tipped, so her cheek had somewhere that was not Scott’s side. She took it. Damp cotton. Rain. His skin. Her shoulder on his chest. Her eyes stung. She did not clear them.

Neither of them spoke.

The hotel turn slowed them. He pressed along her and stayed. Long. Thick. Familiar. One small sound, into his shoulder. His fingers flexed and loosened. He did not pull her down onto it. She did not lift her shoulder until the lights changed.

The hotel lights broke the rain.

Raj opened his door first. He gave her his hand. His body filled the gap while she climbed out.

Raj: Thank you for the lift. We’ll manage from here.

Scott: Any time.

Dhika: Thank you.

His eyes met hers. Heat, and the old picture of her hand around him while Sharmi was between them. He let her fingers go.

Raj: Go up and change. I’ll see Scott off.

She went. The saree was heavy. He was still printed on her. The blouse was still tight over her nipples.

The room was too quiet after the rain and the car. She locked the door, leaned against it, and simply breathed. She was not expecting anyone. After the shower she wanted to be comfortable, nothing else. She put on the loose cotton nightie she slept in at home, pale blue, short sleeves, a round neck that had loosened in the wash. It fell to her knee. There was nothing under it. She had not chosen it for a door. She had chosen it because it was easy.

The cloth was light. Wet skin made it sit closer across her chest than it ever did in her own room. The shape of her breasts was clear. The pink of her nipples showed when the lamp caught the cotton. One shoulder had already slipped, so the neckline was wider on that side. She felt half dressed and too bare for company, and also fine, because it was only a nightie and no one was coming. Every time she breathed, the cotton moved on her nipples. She kept meaning to pull the shoulder up. The knock came before she did.

Raj: Dhika. It’s Raj.

She opened the door and stopped. Raj. She had not expected him. The surprise hit first, then the nerves, her hand still on the door, the loose nightie suddenly too light for a man in the corridor. Colour came up her throat. Under the cotton she went warm, low, the same heat the car had left and the knock had woken. Nervous in her face. Warm here. She did not have time to pull the shoulder up before his eyes found it.

Raj was in the same shirt. The shoulders had darkened in the rain and were only pale at the edges now, the cloth no longer stuck to him, sleeves still rolled. The tray was in his hand. Two glasses. A bottle. His eyes went to the fallen strap, to what the cotton was not hiding, and came back to her face a moment late.

Raj: Am I disturbing you?

Dhika: No. I was only sitting.

Raj: The restaurant is still open. I brought this in case you didn’t want to go down.

Dhika: Oh. Nice. I can have one.

She looked at the two glasses, then at him, shy and a little pleased.

Dhika: You should have the other. Don’t stand there with a tray.

She stepped aside. He came in. She closed the door. He set the tray by the window and poured. She took one glass. He took the other.

Raj: So. The hall. The galleries. How was it?

Dhika: Loud. Too many people. The art was fine, though. Scott explained one. He actually knows things. When he isn’t being… Scott.

She heard herself say it. She had not meant to. The painting came up with his name. The woman on the floor. White on her face. He had called it surrender. Dhika’s glass stayed at her mouth.

For a second she was that woman. Not as a story. In the heat already in her. Chotu, and how pity had turned into her hands on him. Uncle, and the doorway she did not leave. The twins, and a game that stopped being one. She had called all of it an accident. The woman in the picture was smiling through it.

Raj was here. The same man. Lap, shoulder, the hardness she had felt and then sat back from, because he had not used it. The heat answered before her face did. Her thighs shifted under the loose nightie. She did not know if the white was shame or want. She knew which one was in her, and she hated that Scott had been the one to point.

Angel Dhika: That picture is not you. Come back.

Devil Dhika: It is you. You only needed someone to hang it on a wall.

Angel Dhika: Shut up. Don’t listen to her.

She went quiet.

Raj: Dhika.

She blinked, and drank. The glass went up and came down empty. She had not eaten. It hit warm. Colour in her cheeks. The smile after was looser than the one in the car.

She put the glass down. The shoulder slipped. The curve of her breast showed, nipple still hard under the cotton. His eyes went there. She pulled the cloth up a second late, and not all the way.

Dhika: Sorry. That painting. It was strange.

Raj: You went off.

Dhika: The Drowning Girl. He said she was enjoying it. Covered, and still smiling.

She tipped her head. The neckline shifted. A drop from her collarbone slid under the cotton. She let it.

Dhika: And you, Raj bhaiya?

Her left hand set the empty glass down. Her right took the bottle. She looked at him, not the pour, and only glanced down when it reached the rim. He took the bottle after her and filled his own, still looking at her. Neither of them drank yet.

Dhika: He read it his way. What do you see? A woman in trouble, or a woman who stayed because she wanted to?

He was quiet a second. The smile was small.

Raj: Not drowning. Her own desire. Ivory on a young face that already knows the taste.

Raj: She smiles because she asked for it. You can finish the rest.

Dhika: That’s bold, Raj bhaiya.

Raj: You asked. I wasn’t going to say it.

Dhika: If she’s smiling. You still call that trouble?

Raj: No. If she’s smiling, she knows what’s on her. That’s not trouble. That’s appetite.

Dhika was quiet. She drank, this time only a mouthful. The shoulder had not gone back up.

Dhika: Appetite is a big word, Raj bhaiya.

Raj: You used the painting. I’m using the word it asked for.

Dhika: And if a woman hears that and doesn’t look away. What does Raj bhaiya call her?

Raj: Honest. Or careless. Depends if she wants the answer.

She smiled into the glass. Her knee had turned toward him. She didn’t move it back.

Dhika: I’m still here. So which one?

She did not wait for him. The glass came up, and this time she finished it. Warm, fast, on an empty stomach. The room softened at the edges. Her smile after was slower.

Raj: Both. I should go now.

Dhika: You say that. You’re still holding yours.

He looked at her, then at the space between them, then drank what was left and set the glass down, careful. The room was warm. Her shoulder was still low. If he stayed, the next thing would not be a reading of a painting, and neither of them would be able to call it the rain.

Raj: There. No excuse left. I should still go. You look tired, Dhika. That’s all I’m saying.

The question came before she had checked it.

Dhika: Raj bhaiya. In that painting. Who do you picture?

It landed. For a second she knew it was a stupid thing to ask. Then the boldness took her. He was Raj bhaiya, and he was still in the room, and she was not ready to let the quiet win.

Dhika: Raj bhaiya. Answer na?

He was a married man in a hotel room with a woman who had asked the wrong question on an empty stomach. The next minute was close. He was enjoying that more than he meant to. A name would have ended it. He would not spend it.

Raj: She can be anyone.

Raj: It’s already late. I should go. You rest.

The answer was no answer. She felt the disappointment first, small and hot, under the smile she kept. She still stepped in.

Dhika: Thank you. For today.

She stepped in and hugged him. His hold came back tight. Her breasts pressed flat to his chest, and a small gasp left her. His lips brushed her neck. A shiver went through her. She had forgotten there was nothing under the nightie. The cotton was all there was. She felt the crush. She liked it. She did not have time to feel his hands. Two seconds, and she was already burning, already too late.

Raj felt more than she did. Her nipples, stiff, against his shirt. The heat between her thighs where she had come in close. Soap on her neck, under his mouth. Her hair, still a little damp, against his jaw. He smelled her skin. He only held. For him those two seconds were enough. He had her shape, her warmth, the shiver, and the sound she made. Then she was gone.

Angel Dhika: Pull away. Now.


Devil Dhika: Stay just one more second. Feel what you do to him.

Dhika’s face burned. She pulled back at once, eyes down.

Raj’s hands left her the same instant. He cleared his throat once, quietly.
Raj: Good night, Dhika.
Dhika: Good night, she answered, voice smaller than before.

He stepped out and closed the door softly.

Dhika stood in the middle of the room, arms still slightly raised as if the hug had not quite ended. The place where her breasts had pressed against him still tingled. The hard shape she had felt against her remained clear in her mind.

She climbed into bed, pulled the blanket up to her chin, and stared at the dark ceiling while the rain softened outside and her phone rang……to be continued

[AnkitaR]

Please do countinue

[JGoga]

I am working on next draft

[AnkitaR]

The author has unique writing style and also his usage of images and Gifs were also top notch so I would really appreciate it if you can find time to add images and Gifs and if you need any help let me know

[JGoga]

The author has unique writing style and also his usage of images and Gifs were also top notch so I would really appreciate it if you can find time to add images and Gifs and if you need any help let me know

You are right he has unique writing style. But I just don’t want to hang this story in middle so I tried to write from where it left off. 
About the gifs/images currently I am not able to generate those. If you can help me with this then it would be a good teamwork. 
Lastly, you also tell if I should continue or not.

[AnkitaR]

I didn't mean to say you are not doing a good job
Of course I want you to countinue please do