divya

[mr.commenter]

I get total frustration when someone posting english story in english section with Hindi dialogues, Totally frustration why can't they just add translation for those dialogues too ? Not everyone familiar with Hindi right? 

Please Kumar bro translation needed for Hindi dialogues, please add those from beginning of the story. I really want to enjoy the story but these hindi dialogues put speed breakers. 

And coming to the story, I felt like it's just another story in English section, i read 2 pages, your flavour is there but very little. I'm die hard fan of your stories but this one is like regular english sex story with detailing and all. 


You generally don't give much details, and much about character development, you just write on spot, like your story feel like a set of headlines not a story type. That flavour i like very much. I asked you once to put little more conversations and put some elaborative type but not like this. 

I seen your previous English translations, those were good like your flavour but this story feel like this is not your type. 

Write in your style, here a lot of stories there with elaborate details and sex scenes. But your story has different level of sexyness please don't kill that. 
Write in old style and stop puting hindi dialogue in middle of English story, or atleast put English translation after hindi dialogue. 


I hope you understand this 
And I really want to talk with you please share your id in PM Google or telegram 


I want to discuss about your writing style. 
I'm big fan of you

[mr.commenter]

Please write in your own style

[కుమార్]

After the kiss, Lalla looked at Divya with a dirty smile.

‎His yellow teeth flashed in the dim bathroom light. His rough hand caught her right wrist gently but firmly.

‎

‎ He guided her hand down, under the waistband of his dirty lungi.

‎

‎Divya’s fingers brushed hot, coarse pubic hair first. Then the thick shaft — already hard, veined, slick at the tip with pre-cum. She gasped softly.

‎

‎

‎Pulled her hand back quick — shy, scared.

‎

‎“Nahi… uncle ji…” she whispered, voice trembling.

‎

‎Lalla didn’t let go. He pushed her hand back inside.

‎Wrapped her soft fingers around his cock. Closed her palm around it.

‎

‎ The heat burned her skin. The thickness filled her grip.

‎ She felt every pulse, every vein throbbing under her palm.

‎

‎Divya face became deep red. Eyes down. Shy like a new bride.

‎ But she didn’t pull away again.

‎

‎ Slowly… very slowly… her fingers started moving.

‎

‎She shook his penis gently at first — up and down, loose grip.

‎Skin slid over hardness. Pre-cum made it slippery.

‎ Wet sound small but clear in the quiet bathroom.

‎

‎Lalla groaned low. “Aah… beti… aise hi… dheere dheere…”

‎

‎His hips rocked forward little.

‎Cock slid through her fist.

‎Divya felt it grow even harder in her hand. Head swelled. Veins stood out more.

‎ She shook faster now — shy but steady.    

‎

‎Thumb brushed the wet tip each time. Spread the sticky pre-cum over the head.

‎

‎Her breathing became heavy.

‎ Breasts rose and fell fast under tight blouse.

‎

‎Nipples poked hard against fabric. Between her thighs — wetness growing again.

‎

‎She looked up at him once — eyes glassy, shy, guilty.

‎Then looked down again. Watched her own hand moving on his dirty cock.

‎

‎Lalla hand went to her hair. Stroked gently — almost loving. But voice rough.

‎

‎“Bahut achha kar rahi ho beti… ”

‎

‎Divya bit her lip. Shy moan escaped — “Mmm…”

‎

‎She shook harder. Fist tight now. Up-down fast. Cock throbbed in her palm. Lalla groaned louder. Hips bucked.

‎

‎Divya felt powerful. Dirty. Ashamed. Excited.

‎

‎Divya knew deep inside — she had never done this with Ranjith.

‎Never been this wild, this shameless.

‎With her husband it was always gentle, loving, under bedsheet in dark.

‎

‎Slow kisses. Soft touches. No rough hands. No pain mixed with pleasure. No dirty words.

‎

‎But now, in this tiny train bathroom, everything felt different.

‎

‎Lalla’s rough fingers reached blouse hooks. One by one, he unhooked them slowly — teasing.

‎ Each hook opening made a small click. Blouse loosened.

‎He pulled it off her shoulders.

‎ Fabric slid down her arms. Fell to floor.

‎

‎Then bra.

‎. He hooked fingers under straps. Pulled hard. Straps snapped.

‎ Bra cups fell forward.

‎ Her full, fair breasts spilled out free. Heavy. Soft. Nipples brown, already hard from cold air and shame.

‎

‎Mangalsutra rested between them — gold chain and black beads shining against her skin.

‎The sacred symbol of her marriage looked out of place now — hanging between naked breasts that an old, dirty stranger was staring at.

‎

‎Lalla eyes widened. He licked his cracked lips.

‎

‎His rough fingers caught her brown nipples. Pinched hard. Twisted. Pulled outward.

‎

‎Divya shouted with pain — sharp, high sound.

‎

‎“AHHH… uncle ji… dard…!”

‎

‎Pain shot through her chest like needle. Nipples throbbed.

‎But her body betrayed her again — cunt clenched empty, fresh wetness leaked down inner thighs.

‎

‎Lalla smiled dirty. Yellow teeth flashed.

‎

‎“Doodh chahiye?” he asked low, voice thick with lust.

‎

‎Divya looked at his ugly face — beard full of dust, red eyes, sour breath.

‎She felt shame burn hot. But she smiled small, shy,

‎

‎divya Untied his lungi knot slow.

‎ Lungi fell. His thick cock jumped out — dark, veined, head purple and leaking. Pubic hair matted, dirty.

‎

‎Then she untied her own petticoat string. Let it drop.  down legs. Stepped out.

‎

‎Both naked now.

‎

‎Divya fair, soft, beautiful — breasts full, nipples brown ,waist thin, hips round, cunt shaved smooth, glistening wet.

‎

‎Lalla dark, rough, old — hairy chest, thick belly, cock standing hard and thick, balls heavy.

‎

‎They looked at each other long time. Silent. Breathing heavy.

‎

‎Rain sound outside. Train wheels clack-clack.

‎

‎Divya eyes went to his cock. Then to his face. Shy smile came again.

‎

‎Lalla stepped forward. Pressed body to hers. Cock rubbed on her lower belly. Hot. Sticky.

[కుమార్]

Divya hugged Lalla tightly, her soft arms wrapping around his rough, hairy back.   
‎ 
‎Her breasts crushed against his dirty chest — nipples scbanging on coarse hair, sending sharp tingles through her body. She felt his heat, his sweat, his old-man smell of beedi and liquor. 
‎
‎Shame burned in her chest, but lust won.
‎
‎She lifted her face. Kissed him with lust and shy. 
‎Lips pressed hard on his cracked, rough lips. 
‎Tongue shyly entered his mouth first — tasting bitter liquor, stale smoke, sour spit. 
‎She moaned soft — “Mmm…” — into the kiss. 
‎Her tongue moved slow, hesitant, but hungry. 
‎Lalla kissed back rough — tongue thrusting deep, sucking hers hard.
‎
‎His thick penis — hot, hard, leaking — pressed against her lower belly. He shifted hips. 
‎ 
‎Rubbed the swollen head along her wet pussy lips.
‎ Up and down slow. Coating himself in her slickness. 
‎Divya moaned with desire — “Aah… uncle ji…” — hips twitching forward, chasing the friction. 
‎ Her clit throbbed each time the head brushed it.
‎
‎Lalla growled low. 
‎Grabbed her waist. Spun her around. 
‎ 
‎Pinned her to the bathroom sink. Cold metal edge dug into her hips.
‎ Her hands gripped the sink rim. 
‎
‎Breasts hung heavy, swaying. Mangalsutra dangled between them.
‎
‎She lifted one foot. Placed it on the western commode seat. 
‎ Legs spread wide. 
‎ Thighs beautiful — fair, smooth, trembling — open for him. Pussy glistening, pink lips swollen, dripping.
‎
‎Lalla stood behind. 
‎Looked down at her thighs — soft curves, inner skin shining wet.
‎ His dirty hands gripped her hips. 
‎Cock head at her entrance again.
‎
‎He pushed slow — letting her feel every inch.
‎
‎Thick head parted her lips. Stretched her tight entrance. 
‎Divya moaned shy — “Aah… … uncle ji… dheere…” — voice trembling. 
‎New penis. Different from Ranjith. Thicker. Rougher. 
‎
‎She felt every vein sliding in. Burning stretch mixed with deep pleasure.
‎
‎He sank deeper. Halfway. Then full . 
‎ 
‎Divya cried out soft — “AHH… andar… poora andar…” — body shaking.
‎ Cunt clenched tight around his cock. Walls fluttered.
‎
‎Lalla groaned. “Kitni tight hai teri chut, beti… le ab…”
‎
‎He started moving. Slow at first — long strokes — pulling almost out, then pushing deep again. 
‎Each thrust made her moan shy — “Mmm… aah… uncle ji…” — voice high, trembling.
‎
‎Then faster. Harder. Hands gripped her hips like vise.
‎ strokes became brutal. Sink edge dug into her belly. Breasts bounced wild. Mangalsutra moving on divya breasts .
‎Wet slap-slap-slap echoed in bathroom.
‎
‎Divya shouted — “AHH… zor se..nahee... do…slow ...AHHH....abbahh mmm ...aah aah ...please...…!”  
‎
‎Lalla fucked her hardly..
‎ One hand reached her pussy. 
‎. Rubbed rough circles.
‎
‎Divya came fast. Body convulsing. “AHHH… uncle ji… AHHH!” Juices gushed down his cock.

[mr.commenter]

 it is only possible in Telugu.

 I can't write in  English like telugu

But I saw your old translations, it's more like telugu style
Short and spot.
No detailing.. elaborated..

And please don't write Hindi dialogues if you write please give translation atleast and also please give translation for previous updates too

I want to talk with you please give your id

next what software you are using for this translation?

[కుమార్]

After her orgasm, Lalla kept stroking her roughly for two more minutes.

‎His thick cock slammed in and out of her dripping pussy with wet, brutal slaps.

‎

‎ Divya’s body jerked with every thrust — breasts bouncing wildly, mangalsutra chain slapping against her sweaty chest, nipples still sore and swollen from earlier pinching.

‎Her thighs trembled, juices running down in thick streams, mixing with his pre-cum on the bathroom floor tiles.

‎

‎She moaned brokenly, “Aah… uncle ji… bas… abhi… mmm…”

‎

‎Suddenly someone knocked hard on the door.

‎

‎“Lalla! Station aa raha hai!”

‎

‎Divya’s eyes flew open. She looked at Lalla in panic.

‎

‎Lalla groaned in frustration. He pulled his cock out slowly — wet, glistening, still rock-hard and throbbing.

‎

‎ Cum and her juices made strings between them. Divya’s pussy gaped for a second — red, swollen, leaking.

‎

‎He stepped to the door. Opened it just a crack — enough to see outside.

‎

‎A man stood there — same age, same dirty look, another samosa seller.

‎ He saw Divya through the gap — naked, breasts heaving, hands trying to cover them shyly, face flushed.

‎

‎The man’s eyes widened. Dirty smile spread.

‎

‎Lalla said quick, “Bucket khali ho gaya. Main aata hoon.”

‎

‎He closed the door.

‎

‎Then turned to Divya.

‎

‎He slapped her ass hard — loud crack echoed in small bathroom.

‎

‎ Red handprint bloomed instantly on her fair cheek.

‎

‎“Peeche se karunga ab,” he said.

‎

‎He turned her around rough.

‎Bent her forward.

‎ Divya put both hands on water pump.

‎  Ass out. Legs spread.

‎

‎Lalla slapped her ass again — harder. Twice more.

‎ Each slap made her cry out — “Aah… uncle ji…!”

‎

‎Then he roughly put his cock at her pussy entrance.

‎Head rubbed her swollen lips once.

‎

‎Then slammed in full force.

‎

‎Divya shouted loud — “AHHHH… phir se… … AHHH!”

‎

‎He started drilling her roughly. No mercy. Hands gripped her hips like vise — fingers digging deep bruises.

‎Cock pounded deep, fast, brutal.

‎Each thrust bottomed out hard — balls slapping her clit wetly.

‎

‎ Breasts swung forward with every slam.

‎

‎Divya moaned and shouted for every stroke.

‎

‎“Aah… abbahh…  uncle ji… please..mm ..mm .... abbahh ......AHHH…!”

‎

‎She got orgasm two times in five minutes.

‎

‎First one hit fast — body shaking, walls clamping tight around his cock. “AHHH…  phir se…!” Juices squirted out around his shaft.

‎

‎HE given stroking without gap.

‎

‎Second one even stronger — legs buckled.

‎ divya shouted “AHHH… uncle ji… mar jaungi… andar hi… AHHH!” Cunt spasmed violently. More juices gushed.

‎

‎Lalla didn’t stop.

‎ Kept drilling rough — five minutes continuous. Grunts loud.

‎Sweat dripped from his body onto her back.

‎

‎Finally he groaned deep — “Le beti… andar hi… daaloongaa…!”

‎

‎He thrust deep one last time.

‎Held there.

‎Hot thick seeds spurted inside her — pulse after pulse.

‎Filled her completely. Overflowed.

‎

‎ Leaked down her thighs in sticky white lines. Mixed with her juices. Fell on tiles with soft plops.

‎

‎He stayed buried inside long time. Breathing heavy like bull.

‎

‎Then pulled out slow. Cum poured out more — thick, creamy. Dripped on floor.

‎

‎Divya collapsed forward — hands on sink, legs shaking. Breasts heaving. Tears on cheeks. Pussy red, gaping, leaking his seed.

‎

‎Lalla slapped her ass once more — light this time. Smiled dirty.

‎

‎“Bahut achha tha, beti.”

‎

‎He wore lungi quick. Opened door. Left.

‎

‎Divya stayed there. . Cleaned up with water. .

‎

[mr.commenter]

Bro add translation

[కుమార్]

‎ Divya slowly gathered her scattered clothes from the bathroom floor.

‎Her hands shook as she slipped back into her yellow saree.

‎The fabric felt cold and damp against her still-hot skin.

‎She adjusted the pallu carefully, tucked the pleats neatly at her waist, and hooked the blouse with trembling fingers.

‎

‎ The tight blouse still felt too small now — her breasts tender and swollen from Lalla’s rough hands.

‎

‎She stepped out of the bathroom quietly.

‎

‎ Lalla had already left — he slipped off at the last station while the train slowed. She saw him disappear into the crowd on the platform through the door.

‎

‎Divya stood there for a moment. A strange feeling washed over her.

‎

‎She felt happy — deeply, shamefully happy — for that rough sex.

‎

‎ The way Lalla had pinned her, slammed into her without mercy, slapped her ass red, pulled her hair, fucked her like she was nothing but his to use.

‎

‎ The pain, the stretch, the brutal thrusts that made her scream and come again and again.

‎Her body still tingled — sore nipples, bruised hips.

‎

‎But at the same time, guilt crushed her chest like a stone.

‎

‎Her father — the respected astrology pandit in the village. Everyone bowed to him.

‎ He taught her: “Ladki ki izzat sabse badi hoti hai.”

‎Her mother’s soft voice repeating: “Pativrata stri apne pati ke alawa kisi ko nahi dekhti.”

‎

‎They would die of shame if they knew. They would never look at her again.

‎

‎And Ranjith… her husband who loved her quietly, who never raised his voice even after suspecting everything.

‎Who said “If you love someone, go with him” without anger.

‎

‎

‎

‎Divya walked to the sink . Washed her face with cold water — scrubbed hard, as if she could scrub away the taste of Lalla’s mouth, the feel of his rough beard.

‎

‎She opened her small sindoor box. Dipped her finger. Applied fresh red sindoor on her forehead carefully — the mark of her marriage.

‎

‎She looked at herself in the cracked mirror. Beautiful. Traditional.

‎

‎NOw

‎

‎She completed her bath properly now — showered again, soaped every inch, tried to wash him off her skin.

‎The hot water stung the red marks on her ass and breasts.

‎ She came out. Wore fresh white salwar kameez — simple, elegant, pure.

‎

‎Dupatta dbangd modestly. Hair in neat braid. Bindi perfect.

‎

‎Then she went to the marriage hall.

‎

‎The hall was decorated — marigold garlands, lights, music.

‎Relatives and friends everywhere. When Divya entered, heads turned.

‎

‎Everyone saw her like an angel.

‎

‎Women whispered: “Arre wah… kitni sundar lag rahi hai Divya. Bilkul devi jaisi.”

‎

‎Men looked respectfully — then away quickly. Elders smiled. “Pandit ji ki beti hai na… sanskar wali.”

‎

‎She smiled back. Folded hands. Greeted everyone.

‎Sat beside Ranjith and Monu.

‎

‎Outside she looked perfect — glowing bride-like, traditional, innocent.

‎

‎Inside — storm. Guilt. Shame. And small, dark memory of Lalla’s rough thrusts, his dirty hands, his thick cock filling her completely.

‎

‎

‎Everyone liked Divya's polite behaviour at the marriage hall.

‎

‎She talked softly with elders, smiled sweetly at aunties, helped serve food to kids, and folded hands respectfully to everyone.

‎ Relatives whispered: “Pandit ji ki beti kitni sanskari hai… bahut achhi bahu banegi.”

‎

‎At dinner time, one friend of Ranjith sat near them. He asked Ranjith casually while eating.

‎

‎“Ranjith bhai, how was your train journey? It is boring for me always.”

‎

‎Ranjith took a bite of food. Said normal voice.

‎

‎“I ate samosa and slept.”

‎

‎Divya was sitting beside him.

‎She looked at her husband with naughty smile — small, secret smile only he saw.

‎

‎Her cheeks became little pink. Eyes sparkled.

‎

‎The friend turned to Divya.

‎

‎“What about you, bhabhi ji?”

‎

‎Divya looked down shyly. Then said slowly with smile.

‎

‎“My husband ate samosa and slept. But I got bored. There were no co-passengers to talk.”

‎

‎Ranjith looked at her.

‎

‎ He understood the hidden meaning. But he asked calm.

‎

‎“Did you talk with samosa seller?”

‎

‎Divya face became more red. She looked at her plate. Voice soft, shy.

‎

‎“Haan… he wanted to talk with me. I cooperated with him.”

‎

‎Ranjith looked at her.

‎He did not understand fully why his wife felt so shy.

‎Why her voice trembled little. Why she did not meet his eyes.

‎ But he said nothing.

‎

‎Friend laughed. “Achha bhabhi ji… samosa seller se baat? Interesting.”

‎

‎Divya smiled only. Said nothing more.

‎

‎Next day they went back to their town in bus.

‎

‎Bus was not crowded. Ranjith sat near window. Monu slept on his lap. Divya sat beside him.

‎

‎After some time Divya looked at Ranjith. Teasing smile came on her lips.

‎

‎“If we came in train… maybe you ate same samosa.”

‎

‎She said it low, naughty way. Eyes sparkling.

‎

‎Ranjith looked at her. Understood double meaning. He smiled small. Said nothing.

‎

‎

‎One week turned fast.

‎

‎Divya and Ranjith back in daily routine.

‎

‎Morning tea. Breakfast. Monu scho.ol. Divya convent. Ranjith duty. Evening dinner.

‎

‎Everything looked normal.

‎

‎But inside Divya — small storm still there.

‎

‎Sometimes she remembered Lalla rough hands.

‎ His beard scratch. His thick penis.

‎How she moaned in train bathroom.

‎ How she cooperated.

‎

‎Shame came. Guilt came.

‎

‎But also little heat.

‎

‎She controlled.

‎

‎

‎Divya sometimes looked at husband while cooking or sleeping.

‎

‎Thought: “He knows. But he still loves me.”

‎

‎

‎

[Tik]

[LUCIFER0]

Continue like you did with other stories. Add different characters. Write big stories like menaka and anukokunda.

[PELURI]

kumar bro...
क्या होगया. ....एकदम चुप क्यों....

[LUCIFER0]

Wish you will write more stories, Kumar bro.

[Lagoonq]

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