[Aladdin_Aur_Jadui_Chirag]

5,064 massage
2,091,804. Red story the xossipy all members
Verry Long vivere to this story boss please
Chapter 4 add please Mera Krish story

[krish_999]

Great start indeed. Hope this is not incest story?

Is this incest or what?
Please no.

You can't call it incest because incest is between people of blood relation. But I have to warn you, it has some strong elements of taboo. 

Thanking you all for the comments and encouragement.

[masud93]

Happy to see you Again in writing,, I haven't read the story yet, I hope it will be as exciting as the previous story.

[masud93]

Happy to see you Again in writing,, I haven't read the story yet, I hope it will be as exciting as the previous story.& update ASAP 3,4 days gaps bahut hai,,

[Self_hater]

Intresting start   Wish the updates could be a bit longer

[krish_999]

Chapter 2

When Madhav woke up the next morning, he was surprised to find the blanket around him. He couldn't remember covering himself with it the previous night. But as he sat up, he first caught the scent of aromatic tea and then the sight of a teapot next to his bed. Now he remembered. It must be Anjali.
He poured tea into the cup and had a small sip from the steamy cup. A tiny smile formed on his lips, and he recollected that he hadn't felt like smiling like that in the morning for a while.
Anjali was in the kitchen, drying her hands. When their eyes met, there was a moment of quiet.
"Shalini didn't come today?" Madhav asked.
"I asked her to come late," Anjali said, forcing a smile along. "I felt like I should start my mornings myself."
"So, are you making something for breakfast?"
"I'm maknig idlis. I know you ate very little for dinner."
Madhav nodded. "You too."
Anjali didn't reply. She quietly came forward to collect the tea cup from his hand and went back to the sink. Madhav stood there for some time, watching her. Anjali was wearing a faded green kurti, the fadeness being a deliberate part of its design. The hair was tied up neately with a small towel to dry the wet hair. She had taken a shower already. Madhav couldn’t guess whether the fresh fragrance lingering in the air came from her shower gel or from herself.
They had breakfast together. Even though they didn't talk much, their silence didn't feel heavy anymore.
That afternoon, Madhav napped on the sofa while Anjali sat with a magazine by the window. She could not read much. She kept skipping the large articles and read only small columns. When she finished, she kept the magazine and looked at Madhav. She noticed how peaceful he looked in his sleep. It was far from the image she had in her mind, most of which was made by Vinayak in the past. Vinayak always told her heroic stories of his dad, one of the most impressive ones was about helping one of his office staff.
A married woman staff in his office was brutally beaten by her husband over dowry. By the time Madhav learned of the assault, the man had already fled the country. Madhav tracked him down in Sudan and sent his men there - not to bring him back, but to beat him up and leave him behind with a broken hand. The man was made to cry, beg for mercy and seek forgiveness from his wife over a video call.
Anjali wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t heard it from Vinayak himself. The fear and respect Vinayak carried for his father - despite Madhav never openly opposing his choices - were enough to tell her that there was far more to him than what he chose to display.
There were many stories. All of them made an easy impression of how he valued his business and the people who worked for him.
Anjali wondered how he had left all his work suddenly after Vinayak's death as if they never existed. Madhav visited his office, but never stuck to the time. He stayed there for a few hours a day. Some days, he even chose not to go. As if they didn't matter anymore. Anjali felt she still knew nothing of him. Perhaps he had cried a lot too much, for nothing is coming out of him now. Perhaps he hadn't cried enough, probably hiding a volcano behind his calm, lost demeanour.
And she felt she was right when she chose to stay with him. There has to be someone.
At night, before going to bed, she went to check Madhav. The window was open, and the curtains fluttered in the wind. Again, the blanket was at his feet. As Anjali approached him, she paused with fondness and felt a want to climb in, to wrap her arms around him. Not because she wanted to hug him, but just a desire to provide comfort and relief from the cold.
But she didn't. She slowly covered him with the blanket.
As more days passed, the house fell into a rhythm of routine and both of them began to feel better without anything happening. One day, Madhav decided to go to his office in the morning itself. Anjali was happy to see him getting ready at the regular time.
Madhav noticed her. "Do you want to come to my office?" He asked.
Anjali didn't know how to respond. "You should come, Anjali."
And she agreed.
It was the first time she was stepping into his business world. It was a company owned by him, exporting various products to foreign countries. His name was a brand with M as its stylish logo.
Madhav introduced her to his managers and led her through various sections of the company. She returned home at lunchtime. That evening, when Madhav came home, he asked her if she wanted to work.
"I won't fit in, Dad," she hesitated.
"From what I saw today, I have a different opinion." Madhav encouraged her.
The next day, she returned to his office. At first, she just watched everything, then she started organising files and making calls. On the third day, he involved her in a meeting and allowed her to share her ideas. It helped that she was an MBA graduate.
Madhav noticed her ability to stay calm all the time. On a particular occasion, he found her explaining a better way to overcome an obstacle to a supervisor with surprising confidence. When she finished and the man left the office, Madhav smiled at her.
"You're doing well," he told her. "Better than I thought possible."
Anjali smiled, "Just trying to do what Vinayak would have done.”
"He had told me you were a bright student, long ago" Madhav came forward to embrace her. "And he was right. I can't tell you what I'm feeling like. You give me energy to breathe again."
Anjalli was surprised by his warm gesture. She hugged him back, tight. "Thank you, Dad."
At home, she had found Sharadha's old recipe book, that had food stains on most of the pages. She looked up Madhav's favourite dish - the one she had heard about from Vinayak. The page obviously contained most food stains. Anjali cooked it that night.
When Madhav tasted the first bite, he stopped. "This... this was her recipe."
Anjali smiled and told him the truth. Madhav's eyes stayed on her. "Thank you," he said.
Days passed, filled with small gestures and small conversations - and they found their attachment growing.
Her parents Manohar and Kavya kept inviting her to his home regularly, and Anjali kept refusing. Her mother was a silent type who always stayed in Manohar's shadow. But she seemed less interested in bringing Anjali back to stay with them. There were two reasons. One, she had another daughter to care about. She thought the presence of a widowed sister in the house would hamper the prospects of a good relationship in the future. Two, Anjali's wedding to Vinayak was against the wishes of her parents. Vinayak was a junior in Anjali's college, and they could never accept their MBA graduate daughter getting married to a 'student'. It was another thing that by the time they gave the nod to their wedding, Vinayak had not only finished his MBA but also established his own business in Dubai - a subsediary venture of his dad's company. Anjali's mother was still of the opinion that full acceptance of Anjali would pass a wrong message to her sister and to their family. However, Anjali was happy with her mother's silence.
As days passed, Madhav started to stay back until the closing hours of the company, like in earlier times. Anjali returned home earlier. By the time Madhav would reach home, she would have freshened up and even added a side dish to the dinner. The main course would have been prepared already by Shalini.
One evening, Anjali waited on the couch for Madhav, and she dozed off. When he came, he found her curled up, phone loose in her hand. He stood there watching her chest slowly rising and falling as she breathed. He brushed a stray hair from her forehead and, though gentle, woke her up.
"You could have slept in the room, dear," he said.
Anjali gave a tired smile, "I was just waiting for you, Dad."
He reached for her hand as she sat up, steadying her.
It had started raining outside. He asked for coffee, and she brought two cups. They sat together on the balcony couch, rain breathing against the air. The cold air brushed against her sleevless arm and she ran her palm over it to keep warm. Her silky, soft, and straight hair danced with the wind.
Madhav pulled her gently closer. "I can't thank you enough. I would've survived all of that, but you know, with you, I feel alive, dear."
Anjali leaned into him. "Me too, Dad."
As he held her closer, his hand rested on her stomach, reaching from around. She was sure it was by accident. And it felt like comfort, not awkwardness.
The hot coffee could not outlive the rain, which made the night colder. Anjali sat close to him, it just felt better.
However, as she kept watching the rain, she found herself secretly wishing to be held just a little tighter.
Their conversations often ended with talking about either Vinayak or Sharadha. It means they always ended abruptly, one feeling pain and the other sighing. However, after Anjali joined Madhav's office, they seemed to find more topics to talk on. For a change, some conversations even ended up in laughter. And the fact that their office conversations were a continuation of what they paused at home, they started to feel private, shared only between the two of them. What once felt like a quiet company was turning into something deeper.
One evening, Anjali found Madhav lying on the couch silently but not sleeping. It felt like he was listening to something. Amused, Anjali turned to him.
"Sleeping or awake?"
Madhav smiled at her. "I'm actually listening to your footsteps. It is sort of music."
Anjali laughed aloud. Louder than she remembered for long.
"That's unintentional flirting." She mumbled as if to herself.
A few minutes later, Anjali brought tea to him. She came in quietly and set the cup down on the table. Madhav was still half asleep, and he noticed more than he usually let himself see - a full glimpse of her cleavage through the gap formed at her neckline as she bent down, the gentle curve of her body under the thin material of her dress, the soft swing of her hips as she moved. He was half asleep as to immediately startle himself, but he knew he had seen all of it at once, and as the visuals sunk deep into his head, he looked away deliberately, hoping she hadn't noticed. He ended up sitting up in his attempt to play it down, and Anjali, upon seeing him getting up handed the cup to him. Still, he couldn't ignore the feel of their fingers touching as he took the cup from her. Sudenly there was a sense of awkwardness in such simple touches. He knew he had seen what he shouldn't have.
The next day as they worked together in his office, as she snatched his mouse to show him a specific point on his desktop, he caught the same old fragrance from her, and became more assured that it was of her body, not from shower gel. Madhav found his pulse beat awkwardly again. He grabbed the mouse back, only to have Anjali hold his hand deliberately.
"Wait, Dad," she said enthusiastically. "Let me make you understand this fully."
But he could not concentrate on what she was teaching him. Instead a visual from previous evening came back to his head. He saw her breasts, though medium in size, hanging but well in the protection of the black bra inside her dress. No, it was not black. It was navy blue.
"Have you spoken to your dad?" He asked out of blue. "How long are you going to stop his request? You should go, dear."
"Shut up and concentrate, Dad!" Anjali warned, and patted softly under his chin before turning her attention back to the computer screen.
Madhav was glad to see how effortless Anjali was around him.
That night, after dinner at home, Madhav found her rearranging the books on the shelf in the living room. Her hair was loose over her shoulders. She smiled at him and he smiled back.
"I don't know what I'd do without you," he said.
"Then why did you ask me to listen to my daddy's wish?"
"Because it was his right."
"No." Anjali shook her head sideways. "It is my right."
Madhav shook his head in agreement and stepped closer. "Yes, you are right," he said and forwarded his hands instinctively. Anjali was perhaps anticipating it; she quickly moved into his arms and let him embrace her. Madhav's arms went around her, tight, holding on like he suddenly realised how much he needed a hug. Anjali statyed in the embrace, until he started realising he had started getting the scent of her body. Suddenly aware, he let her go.
"I'm sorry, Anjali," he whispered, backing away. "I didn't mean to..."
Anjali caught his wrist, stopping him.
"You are not the only one feeling it, Dad." She said, quietly. Then she moved forward, and hugged him. She wrapped her arms properly around him, and pushed her body towards him to make him rest his hands at her waist. They leaned into each other, neither pulling back, neither speaking a word. They knew both needed each other.
Perhaps they were just letting the moment be what it was.
But the lines between comfort and something more had begun to blur, and both of them were uncertain yet unwilling to let go.

[xfirefox]

touching and deep
very well articulated

will love to read more

[sherlock096]

This is my first ever message on Xossipy, and honestly my whole and sole purpose of making an account is Krish only.

I really want to appreciate your writing skills, man — you just simply nail it. The way you portray emotions… uhh goshhhh, so damn good.
You won’t believe it, but I’ve actually lost count of how many times I’ve reread your Knowing Your Wife, Knowing You as Well series. Just incredible. I want to say so much, but I’m literally out of words. I just adore you, Krish, and please make one promise — never ever stop writing.

Talking about this story, it’s quite different from what you usually write, and that’s what makes it so interesting. As you mentioned in one of the comments, it’s going to be a kinky taboo, so I’m already seated, unblinking, patiently (not really) waiting ??

Please don’t hold back — we’re ready. 

[Dorabooji]

Nice update

[krish_999]

This is my first ever message on Xossipy, and honestly my whole and sole purpose of making an account is Krish only.

I really want to appreciate your writing skills, man — you just simply nail it. The way you portray emotions… uhh goshhhh, so damn good.
You won’t believe it, but I’ve actually lost count of how many times I’ve reread your Knowing Your Wife, Knowing You as Well series. Just incredible. I want to say so much, but I’m literally out of words. I just adore you, Krish, and please make one promise — never ever stop writing.

Talking about this story, it’s quite different from what you usually write, and that’s what makes it so interesting. As you mentioned in one of the comments, it’s going to be a kinky taboo, so I’m already seated, unblinking, patiently (not really) waiting ??

Please don’t hold back — we’re ready. 

You made my day bro 

[Pattaasu Balu]

This looks like simple pathbreaking novel from krish. How long young Anjali can starve without a man.

[krish_999]

Chapter- three

In the month of October, the city witnessed the unusual outpours on a regular basis, and the weather brought a cold charm to the evenings. Madhav chose to sit in the balcony at night after dinner, staying in the calmth of staring at the sky. One day Anjali made tea and joined him with two cups. The stillness of the night and the hotness of the tea gave them a sense of comfort that felt better than any blanket. The air was cold but they were always close, Madhav's arm around Anjali's shoulder, her head often leaning onto his shoulder.
At first it was just for comfort. Soon it felt like something neither dared to name. But they both rested assured by an unknown trust in each other. The fact that no one was there to judge their attachment probably helped.
Madhav had age and maturity on his side, which made him confident that, no matter what, he would never drift into unsteady emotions. Yet whenever Anjali wore loose, thin fabrics, he found himself confronted with fleeting sights that made his pulse quicken - if only for a few seconds.
Her slender body held a quiet perfection in its curves, and every movement carried a natural grace that made it difficult to look away. Had she chosen tight clothes, he would have braced himself for the temptation. But loose, delicate fabrics were different - they offered sudden, unintended glimpses of a hidden beauty, catching him unprepared.
And when she laughed, Madhav felt as though she was the last spark in a world that had nearly gone dark.
Perhaps they had grown too confident with each other. Their touches became natural. Hugs became frequent. Their touch became longer. Nobody said anything. But they both knew they were becoming more fond of each other's company.
One night, when Anjali sat next to him in the couch, she was wearing a sleeveless dress. His hand was already resting on her shoulder, when she shivered he let it slide down her arm. She leaned in, accepting the comfort.
"You should've worn a shawl." He said.
Anjali smiled, "I don't feel the cold when you're around."
"Oh," he smiled at her, and his arm tightened around her.
And then, one morning, she was gone. Her mother had fallen ill and was forced to stay with your parents for a while. Madhav had his meals alone, adding the memories of Anjali to the recurring list of those of Vinayak and Sharada. In the presence of Anjali he had grown slightly comfortable with the memories of his wife and son, and now, in her absence they came back with a vengeance to haunt him.
He couldn't find sleep in the night, as his body couldn't distinguish between day and night. And his days became as darker as the nights should have been. One night, tired, he went to Anjali's room and sat on her bed. He could sense a psychic warmth from the room, feel the scent she left behind, and hear the echoes of her footsteps.
He didn't leave the room that night. And he slept in Anjali's bed, peacefully.
Anjali returned two weeks later. It was a moment Madhav had been waiting, and he wanted to pull her into a tight hug and tell her how much he missed her presence in the house. However, Anjali was accompanied by her father and Madhav controlled his emotions.
"Welcome back, dear." Madhav said quietly. His eyes were damp.
"Are you alright?" Anjali asked.
"No," he admitted softly. “But I am now.”
She smiled, yet kept her distance; her father’s presence demanded it. Still, her eyes lingered on Madhav with an unguarded warmth, as if the happiness in his eyes reflected her own, pleasing her quietly.
Manohar stayed with them overnight. Anjali asked Shalini to prepare the guest room for him, and they all had dinner early. Manohar told Madhav about a marriage prospect that he had found for his younger daughter Roopali. Madhav said it was good, but inside her became nervous due to the thought that Roopali's marriage means Manohar would push more for Anjali's return to his home.
However, Madhav said nothing about his worry. He knew he shouldn't.
That night, Madhav didn't sit out in the balcony. Manohar had gone to sleep, and Madhav too retired to his bedroom early.
Anjali prepared the tea, and brought two cups into Madhav's room. He was sitting on the bed, knees straight, staring at an old stain on the wardrobe door.
Anjali placed the cups down and sat next to him. Their eyes met, and spoke a lot through that look within seconds. They both knew that the tea was just an excuse.
Anjali was the first to make a move to open up. She leaned towards him and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.
"I missed you, dad," She whispered. "More than you know."
"I can imagine," Madhav breathed, “because I missed you too, dear.”
Anjali smiled, as if relieved to hear that. His words sounded like a medicine to her.
"You know, I've been crying a lot these days. Because I felt like I have lost Vinayak again. Yes I have, but with you it felt like there is part of him still staying with me. You are what making me believe I haven't lost him. I don't want to leave you, dad. I don't want to go home, because I don't want to move on from Vinayak. Please." Her eyes had become wet and by the time she said please, tears had fallen off.
Madhav cupped his palms around her face and wiped her tears with his thumps.
"I will never ask you to go, dear." He whispered.
Anjali leaned forward again kissed his forehead gently and instinctively, as if seeking forgiveness for what she was about to do. Then his eyes, closing hers as she did so, letting her grief settle there.

She should have moved back, but instead she pushed herself to stay in the warmth of his embrace, as if she was desperate for it.
Her breath caught between sobs. Her nose brushed against his, and for a moment, she stayed there, their foreheads resting against each other.

"You’re him now,’ she whispered. "You’re my Vinayak…"

Then, without waiting for an answer, she brought her lips to his. Soft. Searching. Uncertain.

Madhav was startled. His hands stayed at his sides. His eyes fluttered open in disbelief. But he didn’t push her away.

She pulled back slightly, breathless, heart pounding.

"I don’t want to lose what I have left dear," he nodded. "I don’t think I can…"

She kissed him again, this time with trembling lips and more longing. But when he didn’t respond, her fingers clutched his shirt and her voice broke.

"Please, Madhav… I’ve missed you so much. You don’t know what it felt like to be away from you."

He closed his eyes.

And then, slowly, he gave in.

His lips parted, not gently this time, but with aching hunger. With every pretense of restraint crumbling away, he kissed her deeply and desperately, his lips locking hers with the weight of everything they had been holding back.

She didn’t need to cry anymore.

She was home.

The kiss deepened, not just in intensity, but in meaning. It carried many months of silence and grief, and the unbearable loneliness of two people who had endured the same lose. What started as a trembling expression of emotion soon became something neither of them could control.

Something unspoken awakened within them. It wasn’t lust, it was something older, something hidden. Dormant feelings were being awakened, impossible to resist. They had no idea how to tackle this moment. No plan. Only surrender.

Their mouths breathed into each other, their hands slowly searching, discovering, invading. Neither of them knew how to stop; they only knew to let it flow.

And then, gently, Anjali pulled back. Her heart was beating hard. Her eyes, misted with tears and flickers of desire, locked onto Madhav’s.

She didn’t say much. Only a whisper.
"Make me live again… Dad."

Madhav blinked. Time stopped. But he didn’t have the strength to question the weight of that plea. She wasn't asking for approval. She was begging for release. To express the love she deserved.

Anjali slowly lifted her kurti and pulled it over her head. The dim light traced the lines of her bare skin, and she climbed onto his lap, straddling him, her knees pressing into the bed. Then she kissed him again - deeper, slower -guiding him back into that space where pain became intimacy.

Madhav was no longer thinking. The boundaries between right and wrong blurred, until they disappeared altogether. He kissed her hungrily, as if every moment without her had been a drought. His hands found the curves of her back, her waist, the softness of her bare skin. He didn’t pause to admire her body - it wasn’t a moment of aesthetic worship - it was a need. A primal need to feel, to belong, to express a bond only he could fulfill.

She lifted her hips slightly as his palms slid past the waistband of her palazzo. She moved her torso forward, allowing him more comfort to slide his hand to feel the roundness of her ass. Her breath hitched, her body trembling under his touch as he moved in and ran his finger tips along the crack of her ass. And he slowly squeezed her ass cheeks. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t stop him. Her hands moved to his waist, trying to lower his trousers - but he couldn’t lift his body beneath her. Still, it was enough. She managed to slide down the front of his pajama. Her fingers reached in and found his length, hot and hard and alive. Her hand trembled as she slowly wrapped her fingers around it, pulling it out of his clothes. She didn't look down. She didn’t need to. And she wasn't paying much attention. She was only moving instinctively, as if she was being guided. Her breath grew heavier, lips parting in a quiver, and she kissed him again - deeply, desperately. By now she had completely forgotten that she was about to mate with her father-in-law. As she pushed her lower lips into his mouth, she felt wanting him to suck it with more intent, and she ended up sucking his upper lips instead. Perhaps he was old-college and thus hesitating a bit. But the kiss grew intense with each share of breath. And their soul and passion grew closer.

Then, slowly, she lifted her hips once more. A silent offering. A silent permission.

Madhav’s hands moved to her waist and slid her lower garments - palazzo and panty- just enough, only a few inches, but enough. She guided herself back down onto his lap, her breath catching as their bodies aligned. And just like a moment of continuation, Anjali instinctively guided his throbbing manhood into her pussy as she lowered herself onto it. She allowed her body to sink deep into him, letting herself be filled by his length. She moaned into his mouth and almost cried with relief. It felt like she deserved it. A wave of hot shivering passed through her stomach. She knew what she was doing wasn't right but she couldn't help her stop it. She knew she was going to regret it, yet she could not turn away. She felt it was the moment of two broken souls finding something to hold onto. It didn’t feel like an act of desire. Instead it just felt like a bond was complete.

And in that moment, as their bodies moved into become one, it felt like someone, somewhere, had written this moment long ago. It felt like fate.
And she knew he too deserved it equally, which made the whole thing worth experiencing. That feeling itself brought joy into her, and she started moving her hip up and down.
"Oh my... Oh my dad... Mmm... Love me, please..." she kept blurting through her broken breath. Her breasts kept shaking within the confinement of her light pink bra.
Madhav's hands moved from her ass cheeks and held firmly at the sides of her hips, helping her move effortlessly. No words were spoken apart from the occasional encouragement from Anjali, but the vigour and togetherness never faded. They didn't even care to move their clothes more than necessary. They had moved enough to get to the point. The kiss too had ended; they were now just staring into each other's eyes while they continued to fuck nonstop.

After a couple of minutes, Anjali watched his eyes shine with an expression. An anticipation. Anjali started moving faster. She could feel Madhav's length throbbing inside her.
"Oh God, Anjali..." he breathed.
"Do it, Madhav. Don't stop it," Anjali said.
She knew he was about to come, and she moved as fast as she could until he let out a small groan, and she watched Madhav immerse himself in the pleasure of release. She stopped moving and held her body down to let him come inside her and fill her. Then, as he completed, she gifted her lips to him to devour. By the time he took a break from the intense kiss that followed, every drop of his had been exchanged from him to Anjali’s body.
Anjali spent a few seconds to settle her breathing, before slowly moving off him. His half limb length slid out of her and its top was still smeared with his white cum. Anjali sat beside his leg and she could feel wetness leaking out of her. She looked around for a cloth and only found her kurti. She grabbed it and pressed it between her thighs. She couldn't look straight at Madhav. She felt shy, ashamed a little, before moving on to an underwhelming feeling which she couldn't make out whether relief or guilt. She only knew she had done the irreversible.
Madhav sat back tired, eyes becoming moist as reality seeped in. He pulled his pants back and stared at the ceiling, unable to make out what to say. He looked around his room and it felt like another world all of a sudden.
Anjali saw his eyes become wet. She placed her hand on his chest.
"Don't hate yourself, dad," she said. "We needed each other, that's all."
Madhav looked at her, and nodded slowly. "You’re stronger than I am, Anjali. Tell me what to do.”
She touched his cheek and nodded. "Let me go," she whispered and got up, pulling the pants back. She didn't want to wear the top anymore, for it had become spoiled with her fluids mixed with his cum. She clutched the crumbled cloth against her chest to hide her bra clad breasts from him.
Her head felt like spinning at she stood straight. "Dad," she didn't say anything further as she walked back with a quiet urgency to get back to her room.
She pulled open the half-closed door and almost ran to her room, holding the clothes pressed to her chest. Inside the room, she tossed the kurta onto the bed and rushed into the bathroom. She took off the remaining clothes before turning on the shower faucet to spray water on her body. However, water only helped her realise the coldness of the reality and a moment later, her breath started to cover in bursts. She cried. She couldn't understand why she was crying but she didn't want to stop it. Eventually, she turned on the shower and stood straight under it, with the hope of letting it all get washed away.

In the hall outside, Manohar stood frozen in the dark, a steel water bottle forgotten in his hand. He had come out to drink some water.
But instead, he had seen his daughter hurriedly moving out from her father-in-law's room - frantic, topless, and clutching her rumpled kurti top against her chest.
He didn’t need to guess what had happened.

And as he stood there, alone in the silence, the darkness swallowed not just his figure… but his peace.

[PELURI]

yet another master piece episode...too good

[xfirefox]

absolute writing. effifany

but the way it happened and the way it was seen by manohar is totally a different take. lets see how it unfolds the next morning. and its going to be a long night, indeed.

[Self_hater]

That's an intense update with a Krish's mark curious ending   Eagerly waiting for the next one

[LovePookie]

wow excellent

[sherlock096]

This is an absolutely masterful piece of storytelling, and your narrative control is what truly sets it apart. You didn't just write a taboo scene; you crafted a profound and heartbreaking study of grief, loneliness, and the desperate human need for connection. The foundation you built with the shared tragedy was essential; it wasn't just two people left alone, but two people who had lost their entire futures, their identities as husband, wife, son, and daughter-in-law, all erased in a single, brutal moment. That shared void became the new foundation of their relationship, and you explored its terrifying and inevitable consequences with breathtaking skill.

The narrative choice to separate them, to have her visit her father, was a stroke of genius. It served as a crucial test, a pressure cooker for their burgeoning dependency. In her absence, you didn't just tell us he missed her; you showed us in the most poignant and vulnerable way possible. The scene of him seeking solace in her room, sleeping on her bed, and inhaling her lingering scent was a moment of pure, narrative gold. It was a silent scream of his loneliness, a deeply symbolic act that demonstrated how his need for her had transcended paternal care and morphed into something far more primal and essential. It was the moment the reader understands that the line has already been crossed in his heart, long before any physical touch occurs.

When she returns, the tension you've built is almost unbearable. Their reunion isn't joyful; it's a collision of two starving souls. You perfectly narrated that "craving" and "missing each other" not as simple longing, but as a deep, cellular need for the only other person who understands their specific pain. The phrase "one thing led to another" can so often be a lazy cliché, but here, you earned it. You made it feel like a dam breaking, a frantic, almost fumbling search for a warmth that could stave off the cold of their mutual grief. The "hot sex" was impactful not just for its physicality, but because it was the culmination of all the unspoken pain, vulnerability, and desperate need you had so carefully layered throughout the story. It was an act of both profound transgression and profound solace.

But the absolute masterstroke was the final scene. Just as the reader is processing the intensity of their union, you introduce the outside world in the most brutal way possible: her own father. The image of him seeing his daughter leaving her father-in-law's room is a gut-wrenching, perfect conclusion. It’s a silent, cinematic moment that conveys a universe of shock, betrayal, and the shattering of another family. In that single image, you force the reader to confront the real-world consequences of the emotional journey you just took them on. It was a bold, risky, and absolutely brilliant way to end the episode, proving that you are not just a writer of erotica, but a true author who understands character, pacing, and the devastating power of a perfectly executed narrative.

[krish_999]

yet another master piece episode...too good

absolute writing. effifany

but the way it happened and the way it was seen by manohar is totally a different take. lets see how it unfolds the next morning. and its going to be a long night, indeed.

That's an intense update with a Krish's mark curious ending   Eagerly waiting for the next one

wow excellent

This is an absolutely masterful piece of storytelling, and your narrative control is what truly sets it apart. You didn't just write a taboo scene; you crafted a profound and heartbreaking study of grief, loneliness, and the desperate human need for connection. The foundation you built with the shared tragedy was essential; it wasn't just two people left alone, but two people who had lost their entire futures, their identities as husband, wife, son, and daughter-in-law, all erased in a single, brutal moment. That shared void became the new foundation of their relationship, and you explored its terrifying and inevitable consequences with breathtaking skill.

The narrative choice to separate them, to have her visit her father, was a stroke of genius. It served as a crucial test, a pressure cooker for their burgeoning dependency. In her absence, you didn't just tell us he missed her; you showed us in the most poignant and vulnerable way possible. The scene of him seeking solace in her room, sleeping on her bed, and inhaling her lingering scent was a moment of pure, narrative gold. It was a silent scream of his loneliness, a deeply symbolic act that demonstrated how his need for her had transcended paternal care and morphed into something far more primal and essential. It was the moment the reader understands that the line has already been crossed in his heart, long before any physical touch occurs.

When she returns, the tension you've built is almost unbearable. Their reunion isn't joyful; it's a collision of two starving souls. You perfectly narrated that "craving" and "missing each other" not as simple longing, but as a deep, cellular need for the only other person who understands their specific pain. The phrase "one thing led to another" can so often be a lazy cliché, but here, you earned it. You made it feel like a dam breaking, a frantic, almost fumbling search for a warmth that could stave off the cold of their mutual grief. The "hot sex" was impactful not just for its physicality, but because it was the culmination of all the unspoken pain, vulnerability, and desperate need you had so carefully layered throughout the story. It was an act of both profound transgression and profound solace.

But the absolute masterstroke was the final scene. Just as the reader is processing the intensity of their union, you introduce the outside world in the most brutal way possible: her own father. The image of him seeing his daughter leaving her father-in-law's room is a gut-wrenching, perfect conclusion. It’s a silent, cinematic moment that conveys a universe of shock, betrayal, and the shattering of another family. In that single image, you force the reader to confront the real-world consequences of the emotional journey you just took them on. It was a bold, risky, and absolutely brilliant way to end the episode, proving that you are not just a writer of erotica, but a true author who understands character, pacing, and the devastating power of a perfectly executed narrative.

Thank you all for the overwhelming response. Your comments are truly encouraging, and inspire me to keep writing.

A special mention to sherlock096. You made me read your comment twice. Your word flow is commendable. The way you convey your thoughts is just as impactful as what you want to say. I feel proud to receive such a comment on this platform.
Thank you all, once again.

As promised, Chapter 4 will be out today.
Keep reading. Keep posting.
Love. Krish.

[krish_999]

Chapter - four

In the morning, Madhav slept longer than usual. But the moment he opened his eyes, he woke to his reality with a jolt.
“Anjali?” He looked around, as if he could still feel her presence in the room. She wasn’t there. Yet he could feel it.
Her presence. Her breath. Her smell. Her moans. Her movements. And the memories of how she had ridden him and brought him the forbidden pleasure. Madhav closed his eyes in shame.
“Oh my God,” he whispered, running a trembling hand down his face. “What have I done?”
He prayed that the previous night had been a stupid dream and quickly got out of bed. He searched for Anjali immediately. She hadn’t come out of her room. A lightning thought struck him, and he stumbled across the house to her door and knocked hesitantly.
For a moment, a thousand thoughts passed through his mind. None of them was any good. He had the maturity to understand the extent to which a lost woman could possibly go to atone for the grave mistake she had made. The seconds Anjali took to open the door almost made Madhav decide to break in.
Anjali looked at him with sleepy eyes.
“Dad?”
She looked at him with suspicion.
Madhav sighed.
“Are you okay?”
He knew she wasn’t. Her eyes told him she had been deprived of sleep the whole night.
Anjali looked over his shoulder to make sure her father was nowhere in sight, then shook her head sideways.
"Not really, Dad. I’m sorry.”
Tears began to flow from her eyes.
“Oh, dear,” Madhav said softly. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have let it happen.”
“No, Dad, it’s not your fault. I initiated it. It was my...”
“There’s no use calling me a grown-up if I can’t control my actions. I acted like a stupid...” Madhav shook his head in disgust. “Shit! What have I done!"
He looked away in anguish, unable to look her in the eyes.
"Dad." Anjali moved and grabbed his hand. "It was me who crossed the line. Your mistake was that you should have slapped me and pushed me out of your room. But you didn't. But please don't blame yourself for it. Perhaps I needed it at that moment. We both needed it."
Anjali spoke like she had thought a lot about it and had made up her mind about how to talk about it. She went on. “I came to your room, Dad. I kissed you. I touched you. I was longing for Vinayak... I wanted to feel close to him, and you were the only one who really understood. We both needed that moment. Let’s not pretend it was only you."
He looked away, ashamed. “Still… you call me dad!"
“I will,” she interrupted firmly. “Nothing’s changed. What happened between us stays between us.”
A part of Madhav wanted to believe her claim. Another part feared the weight of their actions. They stood there quietly, the awkwardness thick but thinning.
They heard the sound of the back door opening. It was Shalini, their maid, entering the kitchen from the back. That was how she used to come every morning.
Anjali patted Madhav's hand and went to the kitchen. Madhav stood there staring at her for a while and then went back to his room, his feet still heavy. He stopped in front of his son's photo and felt his heartbeats rising. He felt Vinayak was there, watching his dad mating with his wife, and watching it helplessly.
'Oh, son. How could I do it to you?' Madhav pressed his hand to his chest. 'Forgive me, son, I couldn't stop. Forgive me, please...' he begged silently. Unable to stand there, he rushed to the washroom.
After the shower, Madhav got ready early. He didn't want to face Manohar, who still hadn't come out of his room. Madhav knew he wouldn't be able to look at Manohar's eyes and speak properly when guilt was brewing inside him.
After Madhav left, Anjali managed her composure. Manohar had not come out of his bedroom. Anjali took a teacup to his room. Shalini was outside, washing the tiles on the porch.
“Are you still sleeping, Daddy?” Anjali was surprised to see Manohar still lying on the bed.
Manohar opened his eyes immediately, as if he had not been asleep. He sat up and looked at her like a stranger. There was a sense of disgust in his eyes. In one second, Anjali knew her dad’s eyes were searching for something on her.
"What happened, Dad?" She asked, calming herself despite a wave of suspicion shaking her mind.
“I should have known,” Manohar said with contempt. “I should have asked why you refused to leave this house.”
Anjali’s heart sank. “What do you mean?”
"The truth, Anjali. Your filthy, shameful truth. You and Madhav. Your father-in-law. An affair so horrible that it would disgust even the dirtiest mind."
She froze. “Daddy, what are you saying…?"
“Don’t pretend to be more stupid than you are, Anjali. I saw you last night - coming out of his bedroom, naked! What the hell were you doing there without clothes? Did you think I wouldn’t find out? That it could stay hidden?”
His anger burned through his words.
Anjali was stunned. She felt the room spinning around her. A world was crumbling, and she knew what it was.
Her vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes. “No… please… it’s not like that…”
He wasn’t listening. “How long? He died just a few months ago, Anjali. Are you so desperate? Is this your love for your dead husband? Or is his death a blessing for you - so you can sleep with his father?"
Anjali covered her mouth, sobbing. “No, daddy! Please... don't say that.”
Manohar shook his head, denying her words.
"Do you realise what you’re doing to our family? Do you remember your sister? No one will want to marry her if they learn that her widowed sister is sleeping with her father-in-law.”
“Please, stop,” Anjali begged. “It isn't what you understand. It's not like that..." Anjali struggled for words that made sense. "It happened once. It wasn’t sex. It was grief, helplessness, pain. We were broken… and made a mistake.”
“But you did it, Anjali!” he yelled. “Now drop it - and pack your things. You’re coming home.”
“No!” she said, voice fierce. “Give me time. I’ll come with you, Daddy, but not now.”
"What?" He stared at her with hatred. "Why do you want time? You want to say goodbye to that..." He stopped, as if hesitating to resort to abusive language.
"Please... daddy, I know it's wrong. It was a mistake." Anjali looked away momentarily as she spoke. "I'm in shock myself. He's also...same. Never expected this to happen... And he's broken. If I leave now, he will die. And I will also... Please understand. Please."
Manohar stared at her for a long moment, as if unable to understand her.
“You have a few days. After that, I’m taking you, like it or not.” Manohar declared in the end.
Anjali nodded.
“One more thing,” Manohar said. “You’ll stop working in his office.”
Anjali froze again. “What?”
“I said you’ll stop working in Madhav’s office.”
“No, Daddy… please…” Anjali almost grabbed the edge of her clothes, as if she were a child being scolded by her father. “That’s not fair.”
“But it’s necessary,” Manohar replied. “As long as you’re working with him, you’re vulnerable, and I can't allow it.”
“I’ve already agreed to come with you...and leave this house,” Anjali said. “Give me some time. Please.”
“Time is exactly what you don’t deserve.” Manohar’s voice hardened. “I won’t allow you to keep seeing him under the excuse of work.”
Anjali shook her head in defiance. “You’re taking away everything.”
“I’m protecting you,” he said flatly. “Decide quickly.”
"Daddy, please...understand that what happened there was an accident. And much as I'm...he’s also reeling with shame and guilt. If I leave him now, it’s going to break him forever, and I’ll lose him. I’ll be the only one answerable for that - please remember that. You won’t see me alive if that happens,” Anjali said.
Manohar stared at her again for a long moment, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.
“Don’t take my empathy for foolishness,” he finally said. “I’m giving you this so-called time only because I don’t want to bring this drama back to my home.”
Anjali could only nod.

Manohar left without looking back. Anjali collapsed onto the bed, shaking with tears. Hours passed before Madhav’s name lit up her phone.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
Wiping tears, she steadied herself. “I’m okay.”
That night, Madhav came home late. The change was visible between them - no smile, no tea time on the balcony. She said nothing about her secret being found by her father; she couldn’t bear to add his burden. For the whole night, they chose silence as if it were their medicine.
The next morning, she found Madhav sitting on the couch staring at Vinayak’s photo on the wall, eyes heavy with guilt.
“What are you thinking?” she asked softly.
“That my son would never forgive me.”
Anjali placed her hand on his shoulder. “If I marry someone else… would you stop me?”
Startled, Madhav looked up. “Never. I want you to be happy.”
“Then don’t torture yourself. What we did wasn’t lust. It was longing for comfort, for healing. Vinayak would have wanted us to take care of each other. You are his father. And I… I still care for you.”
"It's a stupid way to console ourselves, Anjali," Madhav said quietly.
"But you have to believe me now."
She said and stepped closer to embrace him. Madhav felt a breeze fill his heart. He pressed his face into her belly. Anjali held him close and caressed his hair. For a moment, Anjali felt as though she was the elder and he was just a child. She then wondered where she was gathering so much courage from.
The day felt lighter. Madhav felt she was right. He had no choice but to try to believe Anjali’s point of view, no matter how foolish it seemed.
When called from the office the next day, Anjali said she wanted to join him. He said okay. An hour later, Anjali arrived, wearing a kurti and palazzo. Though it was another style and colour, memories of her pulling her kurti off her head the other night flashed in front of his eyes. Madhav couldn't face her at first. But once they got busy with work, he felt better.
They worked side by side, and it felt like healing.
But peace was fragile. Anjali's father suffered a heart attack the next day. Anjali rushed to meet him. She knew she was the reason behind his pain. She wondered if she should tell Madhav that their secret had been found by Manohar. But she couldn't tell him. When Madhav said he would accompany her, she stopped him.
Manohar had survived the heart attack but was admitted to the ICU. Anjali’s sister, Roopali, hugged her and cried, standing outside the ICU. Anjali cried too; half of her pain came from guilt.
When her mother saw Anjali, she was angry. “When will you stop giving your daddy trouble and tension, Anjali?” she asked, her eyes swollen with worry.
Anjali’s heart nearly stopped. Did Daddy tell her?
She couldn’t speak.
Kavya continued, “He kept telling you to come home, and you never listened. He’s been so worried about you. He was crying the whole night silently. This tension… it is what broke him. You are the reason for this.”
But as her mother went on, Anjali realised that she was still unaware of the truth. A quiet sense of relief soothed her, even as guilt continued to weigh heavily on her heart.
The doctor revealed that Manohar’s life had been saved only because of his friend’s timely response in giving CPR to him during the heart attack. He was with Manohar when he collapsed in pain and lost consciousness. CPR was given immediately, bringing him back, and he was rushed to the hospital soon after.
The doctor told Anjali’s mother that she should be more grateful to the man who had the presence of mind to perform CPR at the moment of the heart attack than to the doctor standing in front of her.
Anjali’s mother later told her that it was Vicky who had saved Manohar’s life.
Vicky was known to Anjali. He wasn’t exactly Manohar’s friend, but the son of his friend Shyamal Das. He was present at the hospital when Anjali’s mother and sister arrived. But Anjali hadn't noticed him. Perhaps Anjali was too lost in her own world of guilt to notice him then. Later, she looked for him but couldn’t find him.

When Anjali finally got a chance to meet Manohar, she cried silently, seeking forgiveness. She couldn’t speak because her mother was standing beside her.
After a while, Madhav arrived at the hospital, and Anjali feared her father’s condition might worsen. But nothing happened. Manohar calmly asked Madhav to let Anjali stay with him for the time being. It was the first thing he had said since the heart attack.
Madhav agreed, and Anjali stayed.
Manohar was discharged from the hospital the following day. Anjali went along with him to her house.
Manohar did not talk to her. In fact, he did not talk to anyone. And three days later, she called Anjali aside and dropped a bomb.
“I’ve found a solution for your loneliness,” he said, holding her hand. “Shyamal Das’s only son.”
Her fingers grew cold.
“Who?” She blurted in confusion.
“Vicky. Vikram. Our family knows him, and he saved my life. He told me he knows you from college days. He runs his own business, a good match.”
She recalled him - Shyamal Das uncle’s son, a quiet boy who had once proposed to her in college. She had gently refused him then; she was already seeing Vinayak.
Anjali hadn’t seen him at the hospital, though she had wanted to meet him and thank him for saving her father’s life. But now, suddenly, she felt she would never want to see him.

"No, Daddy. I don’t want this,” she said bitterly.
“I didn’t ask. You will meet him. This Sunday.” Manohar’s voice hardened.
“But I’m not ready.”
“You will be. And you’ll see him as your future husband. That’s final,” Manohar said sternly.
Anjali sat frozen. A new chapter was beginning - one she wasn’t sure she was ready for. And she had no idea how to stop it.

[zulfique]

Awesome update