Misc. Erotica After the Ashes

[Aladdin_Aur_Jadui_Chirag]

https://xossipy.com/thread-26419.html

Wating this summer

[krish_999]

Dear Krish,

Before I address the recent update, allow me to first articulate something that has long demanded expression.

My admiration for your writing extends far beyond a single story. With the lone exception of your Malayalam work, a limitation solely on my linguistic capacity, not on its merit, I have followed your narratives with unwavering engagement. In fact, I have found myself withdrawing from other platforms entirely. I no longer feel compelled to explore stories elsewhere. The reason is neither novelty nor explicitness, it is depth.

What distinguishes your writing is not grand drama, nor sensationalism, but nuance. The restrained glance that lingers a second longer than necessary. The pause in dialogue that carries more meaning than the spoken word. The quiet confession that trembles beneath composure. The almost imperceptible gestures of intimacy that feel startlingly real. It is in these subtleties that your storytelling transcends fiction.

There is a particular scene from one of your stories that continues to reside in my memory with remarkable clarity. To an external observer, it may have seemed inconsequential, even simple. Yet for me, it was quietly transformative.

A married couple attends a wedding. Amidst the social bustle, they separate briefly to greet acquaintances. The husband, seated at a distance, watches his wife with a soft, unguarded smile — not possessive, not performative, merely present. She notices. She approaches him with playful composure and asks, “Are you trying to impress me with your smile, mister?” And before he can answer, she adds lightly, “I’m sorry… I’m already married,” raising her hand to display her ring.
Nothing dramatic occurs. No elaborate declarations. No heightened emotion. And yet, within that exchange lies a universe — affection, security, desire, companionship, exclusivity, playfulness. It is sensual without vulgarity. Romantic without exaggeration. Intimate without spectacle. That moment encapsulated a form of connection I find myself yearning for a love that is aware, assured, and quietly electric.

Your characters do not merely exist on paper; they infiltrate imagination. Meera, for instance, has become more than a fictional construct in my mind. There are moments in real life when a simple smile from someone evokes a spontaneous comparison — an unconscious wondering of how she would have smiled in that instant. It may sound irrational, perhaps even indulgent, yet it is a testament to how deeply your writing embeds itself within emotional consciousness.

And your erotic passages - oh my my - it possess a rare integrity. They do not feel engineered for provocation; they unfold as an organic extension of emotional proximity. There is psychological texture to them — a lived intimacy rather than a staged performance. The physicality is never detached from emotional context. It breathes. It flows. It feels inevitable rather than inserted.

Most remarkably, your narratives do not feel “constructed.” They feel observed. Conversations move with the cadence of real life. Emotional shifts occur gradually, without theatrical manipulation. There is an authenticity that renders the fiction almost indistinguishable from lived experience.

Now, turning to this latest chapter.

The psychological restraint demonstrated here is extraordinary. The aftermath of Anjali and Madhav’s transgression is rendered not through melodrama, but through stillness. That quiet morning — heavy with awareness — speaks louder than confrontation ever could. The absence of overt remorse makes the tension even more palpable. They are not reacting impulsively; they are reckoning consciously.

Anjali’s admission on the balcony elevates the narrative into profoundly complex territory. When she confesses that she did not seek Madhav to move beyond Vinayak, but because he has, in some intangible way, become him, the moral landscape shifts dramatically. This is no longer mere forbidden desire; it is emotional displacement, grief seeking continuity, attachment seeking preservation. One is compelled to reflect: is she escaping loss, or preserving it in another form? And does Madhav comprehend the psychological magnitude of what she has entrusted to him?

Manohar’s intrusion recalibrates the tension entirely. His paternal authority is layered with social calculation. Concern and control coexist uneasily within his tone. His threat toward Madhav signals that this story may soon transcend internal conflict and approach tangible confrontation. Whether this remains intimidation or evolves into action will define the coming arc.
Vikram, too, remains compellingly ambiguous. His composure could signify patience or strategic restraint. He is neither sufficiently virtuous to command sympathy nor overtly flawed enough to condemn. That ambiguity renders the forthcoming meeting laden with narrative potential.

This chapter does not merely progress the story; it deepens its moral and psychological architecture. The characters are increasingly human — flawed, self-aware, conflicted. The boundaries between right and wrong blur, yet the emotional truth sharpens.

Finally, allow me to extend sincere gratitude for the early update promised on the 5th. 

There remains much more I wish to articulate — but for now, I will simply say this:
Your writing does not merely tell stories. It shapes emotional imagination.

With anticipation for what lies ahead.

Warm regards, 
Sherlock. 

What an insightful comment. 
From the long explanation, I would like to quote one sentence that pleased me the most.
"Your writing does not merely tell stories. It shapes emotional imagination."
If this line feels true to anyone reading my stories, I will consider my writing fulfilled its purpose.  I've mentioned this during my comments in my earlier stories as well. I aim to make others imagine beyond what's written. I want readers to anticipate and imagine an intimate scene between two characters even before they actually happen in the story. The pleasure happens in the reader's mind.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts in such a detailed manner. 

Love. Krish.

[krish_999]

Chapter- seven

On Saturday, Anjali went to meet Vikram for lunch at a Dine-in restaurant. She chose a simple white midi dress with delicate embroidery, light and flowing against her skin, paired with a fitted denim jacket worn casually over it. Flat sandals and a medium-sized open-top bag, its handles hanging from her hand, completed the look - she had carefully chosen not to draw attention from Vikram. She reached the restaurant around noon, where Vikram was already waiting. They exchanged smiles and soon found themselves seated across from each other, sharing a quiet meal. Anjali found herself looking at his lips, thinking about the moment he had unexpectedly kissed her the other day. She felt uncomfortable during the early moments.
However, Vikram was charming in his conversations, polite in his gestures, slowly helping her come out of the memory.
After lunch, he surprised her by suggesting they watch a magic show nearby. He took her to the place in a hired car. Vikram had already booked a ticket.

The performance lasted almost an hour and a half, filled with wonder and lighthearted moments. They both laughed, clapped, and occasionally leaned in to whisper reactions, making the experience feel unusually intimate. At one particular moment, when the magician reappeared safely after a seemingly fatal challenge, Anjali grabbed Vikram's hand and shouted, "holy shit!" She quickly laughed at herself.
By the time it ended, Anjali felt at ease with Vikram.

Later, they moved to a coffee shop in the same complex. As they sipped their drinks, Vikram gently brought up a subject left hanging since their last meeting.

"I'm sorry for the other day," he said, sincerity softening his tone. "I shouldn’t have kissed you without asking."

Anjali was caught off guard by the apology, but it felt good to hear. It gave her a sense of control again.

"Thank you for saying that," she replied. "Because I've been feeling very bad about it."

The conversation soon drifted to their personal lives and ambitions. Vikram opened up about his business - how he built it from scratch without relying on his father’s legacy. Anjali listened with interest. His story sounded similar to Vinayak's. When he asked about her own career, Anjali mentioned how she had once tried to help Vinayak's company in Dubai after his death. “It didn’t work out... I was alone there,” she added. “But helping Madhav here was different. He supported me.”

Vikram leaned in slightly, his voice gentle. “You can take up a key role in my firm if you wish. Though, if you ask me honestly... I’d love for you to just be by my side - as my life partner.”

His words held both affection and a possessive pride that made Anjali feel desired and thus slightly uncomfortable. But she smiled and said, “I’ll work. It keeps me busy.”

He chuckled. “Then your ideas are welcome too. I’d value your perspective. The Anjali I know from the college was sharp - I'm sure you'll see what others miss.”
Anjali smiled as she remembered that it was a remark Madhav had told her a couple of times after joining his office.
As they finished their coffee, Vikram suggested they see another part of the building. Anjali agreed without much thought. The lift carried them to the top floor, opening into a lavish suite. For a moment, Anjali felt confused about how they ended up in such a place. Vikram hadn't taken her to the reception. Anjali realised it only when she walked into the private suite. It seemed spacious enough to accommodate a small crowd, the size of the room psychologically providing a sense of security. The suite had a low bed covered in white linen, a large two-seater sofa beside a glass-topped tea table, and a tall dressing mirror as the main set of furniture. Soft ambient lamps and thick curtains decorated the room, while a few neatly stacked magazines appeared to be designed to impress rather than invite.

Anjali noticed the bed at once. It seemed like a symbol of romantic invitation, a reminder that this evening is in fact a date, and she was there with a man who must have dreamt of mating with her on the same bed. The sight unsettled her, and she looked away immediately.

She chose the sofa, sitting down carefully.
"This is where I stay when I visit the city," Vikram said casually.
"You live well," Anjali replied.
"I love to live well," Vikram said and sat with her. And he slowly grabbed her hand. "Would joining a life like this trouble you?"

His sitting close and touching her made Anjali's body stiffen. But she didn't feel the urge to get up. She just looked away, her mind torn. Vikram wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t harsh like her father. But his insistence stirred something uncomfortable inside her - like she was being slowly moulded into a role she hadn’t chosen for herself.
"I should leave," she said, thinking of the quickest way to leave and head home.
"We will," Vikram leaned closer, and put his left hand behind her, casually touching her back. Her right hand remained in the grip of his right hand. "But before that, I want clarity." He added.
"Clarity?" Anjali looked at him.
“I’m not the kind of man who waits around, Anjali,” he said. “I don’t enjoy long misunderstandings or endless emotional stalking. I believe people know fairly quickly what they’re willing to step into.”
She didn't look away. “And you think a hotel room settles that?”
“No,” he said calmly. “A decision does.”
Anjali felt his left hand pressing behind her waist - though not pulling her closer, just present. Making the touch deliberate. She hated that her heart was beating faster. She wanted to stay calm, showing no nervousness.
"Do you think this is the right way to talk me into something?" Anjali didn't hide her disgust. "You can't impress any girl like this."
"I don't know how to impress a girl," Vikram admitted blankly. "The girl I proposed before this was you, years ago. After that, I've lived the life of a businessman. I'm no womaniser, and I'm not trying to be one. Look, Anjali, there's no secret between us. You already know that I love you, and I have expressed that already. I have the consent of your daddy. I'm not asking you to date me. That stage is over, and I also know that you're not expecting a date."
"But you are talking like I'm an object that's up for taking."
"Maybe I don't know how to communicate. But I intended to be honest."
"What do you think I do now? I just let you take my hand and lead me to that bed?"
"That's an exaggeration." He glanced at the bed as if wondering what was wrong with it.
"Then?"
“I don't know." He looked away from her and then back. "Maybe I will take a kiss.”
She stared at him. “You’re serious?” She couldn't believe he said that.
“Yes.”
“No,” she said at once and looked distantly to the other end of the room. “That’s not happening.”
“Then this ends here. I'll speak to your daddy.” Vikram said and took his hands off her.
“That’s not fair,” she said. “You bring me here and ask for something like this?”
“I didn’t force you to come,” he replied. “And I’m not forcing you now.”
She leaned backwards on the sofa, crossing her arms. “You think a kiss proves something?”
“It proves you’re at least willing to try,” he shrugged his shoulder as he said. “I don’t want promises. I don’t want explanations. Just clarity. Isn’t that what your daddy asked for? Just a chance?”
What my daddy asked for!
Her father's voice still echoed in her ears - 'If you refuse again, I’ll take you away from Madhav... I will make sure he is in no position to stop me. I will break him first.' She swallowed hard.

After a moment, she exhaled. “Okay,” she said. “Just to end this torture.”
Even as she said that, at the back of her mind, she was thinking if she could just get up and leave. But something inside her kept holding her back into inaction. A sense of helplessness was growing inside her. She knew she had no one to complain to.
"Well then... come..." Vikram invited her. He slowly grabbed back her hand, and she felt his other hand behind her waist again. Her heartbeats began to rise further.
But she gathered herself and leaned towards him. There was hesitation in her movement, but she managed to lean closer to brush her lips against his - featherlight contact, just enough to end the conversation.

But Vikram seized the moment. Before she could pull back, his left arm moved around her waist, and he placed his other behind her ear, and his mouth pressed firmly on hers, turning it into something longer, deeper. His lips moved hungrily, sucking her lips into his mouth, like he had been waiting for this permission.

Her body stiffened.
This wasn’t the kiss she gave - it was something he was taking.
Her chest tightened. A wave of resentment rose in her throat, not just for him, but for herself.
In that moment, it wasn’t Vikram she saw - it was a stranger trying to write himself into a chapter she had not agreed to start. Her mind flashed with the realisation: If I marry him, there will be more kisses like this. More touches. More nights. And eventually, she’d lie beside him, submitting her body while her heart still ached for Vinayak.
Anjali broke away abruptly and pushed him back. And she jumped up to stand two steps away from the sofa.

“Scoundrel,” she muttered in a tone mixed with more embarrassment and less anger. “What the hell was that, Vikram?” She wiped her lips with her hand.
He only grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “That's called a kiss. Our first kiss. Don’t act shocked now.”
“You said I would kiss. Not you. I intended just a light kiss, not this feeding you my lips," she snapped, stepping back further. “This is not what I meant.”
“You didn’t stop me either,” he replied, his voice still laced with playful arrogance. “And if we’re being honest, you didn’t exactly hate it.”
Her eyes flared. “Don’t you dare put words in my mouth.”
“Then put better ones,” he said with a wink.
For one moment, Anjali felt Vikram was actually a womaniser who could seduce any girl he wanted, but chose to act weirdly only to enjoy the thrill of toying with her emotions.

She continued to stare at him, despite her heart thudding in her chest. “You think this is all a joke, don’t you?”
Vikram was completely unfazed. He leaned back on the sofa. “I think it’s the beginning of something.”
“No,” she said, “it’s the beginning of nothing.”

She turned and walked away quickly towards the lift, needing space and air. She felt she needed to shut out the sick feeling inside her that she had just betrayed something sacred.
“Next time, maybe we'll skip the conditions.”
She heard Vikram from behind her. She didn’t respond. She couldn’t.

Because she had realised that he was not just wrong as a match for her, it was dangerous. He was not after her. He was after winning.
Anjali soon found a cab to return home. Sitting in its backseat, she couldn't help but replay the memory of that kiss. She couldn't shake the feel of his body pressing against hers. His hands had circled her lower back, pulling her close. She had even felt his manly desire for her. It unsettled her. She pressed her teeth in anger.

She thought for a moment about telling her father - but she knew it would change nothing. For him, Vikram expressing his passion for her would be exactly what he wanted. 'Marry him,' he would say.

At home, she threw away her denim jacket on the couch and sat there. And waited for Madhav to return. Shalini was cooking dinner in the kitchen. However, when Madhav returned, Anjali couldn't feel the energy to talk to him, though she had a sea of thoughts to convey to him. She took a quick shower, hoping it would clear her clogged mind, but only in vain. The restlessness only increased.
Even after dinner, she couldn't erase the strange impatience stirring inside her - a need to take back control of her body, her decisions, her desires.

“No tea time today?” Madhav asked with a smile, seeing her close the kitchen door. Shalini had already left.
“No tea,” she said softly. “But... I have something else for you tonight.”
She reached for his hand, and without saying more, she led him quietly towards her bedroom.
Madhav hesitated. “Anjali…” He knew.

But Anjali didn’t wait. Her mind still burned from the violation of being kissed against her will. She wanted to feel wanted again - but this time by someone who understood her silences, who touched her with care, not conquest. Her grip on his hand didn't loosen.

Inside the room, she locked the door and took off her bright yellow kurta straightaway. Then she stepped forward and kissed him, gently at first, but with a longing that spoke volumes.
Madhav stood still, mechanically allowing her to kiss him. However, as Anjali's kiss grew passionate, he also sensed his mind feeling lighter. A thought that he was being useful in calming down an agitated soul became an instant justification not to step back. However, the truth was that his body and soul had become accustomed to the pleasure he had enjoyed twice in being useful to his daughter-in-law's strange method to deal with the heartbreak. Slowly, without making a conscious effort, Madhav's arms circled her, caressing the bare skin behind her belly. And he opened his mouth to return her kiss, sucking her lips slowly. But Anjali's energy outgrew him with fervor and she kissed him like she was possessed.
"I need you, Dad. Take me to the bed." Anjali whispered in a hurried breath during the kisses.
Madhav followed her lead to the bed and sat on the edge. Anjali quickly started to unbutton his shirt. After a few top buttons, she hurriedly pulled the shirt to remove it over his head.
"What happened today?" Madhav looked up. He knew there must be a reason behind her behaviour.
"Nothing," Anjali replied without thinking, for she didn't want to recollect what had happened. She bent forward to kiss Madhav again, this time all over his face. "I only need you in this world. I'm happy to be here, Dad."
Madhav was still not putting in much effort. Anjali grabbed his hands and placed them on her breasts. "Dad..." She called as if to wake him up. And then quickly reached behind her to unhook her bra with one hand. She had caught his eye like a hook, and she smiled fondly as she slid down the bra straps and finally pulled it off to present her father-in-law with a full view of her young, delicate breasts. And then with a newfound confidence, she leaned forward and hugged him, bringing her soft melons to his mouth. Not only that, but she also took extra care to bring her tits into his mouth to make him suck on them. Very soon, Madhav hit the tempo she had been longing for, and sucked on her tits, licking and caressing them with equal measure. The hesitation, responsibility, and guilt faded with each passing moment as his testosterone took over his senses. The erect and tender nipples became wet as he ran his tongue around them. Anjali was delighted with his growing enthusiasm. She cupped her palms around his face.
"I've chosen you, Dad," she whispered. "You're the only person I can get peace from, now..."
She turned around as if you let him enjoy her back, and even felt the courage to slightly bend forward to invite him to feel the roundness of her ass cheeks. The way he had been fondling them made her think he held a special liking for their softness. But she felt shy as soon as she turned away from him and bent forward. She smiled and sat on his lap. And then brought his hands to her breasts from both sides. She leaned further back and turned her head to kiss his left cheek. Madhav caressed her breasts fondly and proceeded to press her soft belly before going further down to insert his fingers inside her pants. His right hand went all the way inside her panties and touched her pussy. She was wet; she knew the first touch itself would have soaked his fingers.
"Mmm..." A soft moan escaped her lips.
She breathed and turned her head to kiss him again, this time he welcomed her with his lips. They kissed intensely, with both of them sucking each other's mouths. Madhav's fingers started moving, and Anjali's breathing only got heavier.
"It feels so good, Madhav. So hot yet so calm. Keep going, please..." She whispered. Madhav's left hand was still roaming over her breasts, fondling the softness and occasionally pinching her erect nipples.
Anjali couldn't stop the urge to reciprocate his touch; she brought her right hand into his lower body, immediately finding the growing erection in his pants. It was getting close to the shape she had been secretly longing for. She moved a little to the side, to sit on his left thigh and confidently inserted her hand inside his pants. She found the length and soon grabbed it.
"Aaahh...mmm... I'm feeling good, Madhav... Don't you like me touch it? Mmm?" She asked while trying to stroke it gently, still inside his pants.
"I like it, Anjali."
Madhav admitted. The shame had vanished without a hint.
"I want to give you more," Anjali said and got up, and lowered her remaining clothes. She removed one leg from it and then kicked the cloth off her other leg in a hurry. When she touched his pants, Madhav helped her by getting up slightly to drop them down to his ankles. Anjali immediately climbed onto his lap, straddling his legs. And without a pause, they together guided his whole length inside her pussy.
"Aaah..." She moaned again. The pleasure of getting her pussy walls stretched by him invaded her body and mind like vengeance. No matter how hard anyone tried to get her, she knew she had chosen what she wanted at heart. She felt at peace with her inner self.
This is who I am. She felt.
She started to ride him while kissing him. The kiss soon broke, as she rode him faster. Her breasts danced into his face. Her nipples kept touching his mouth and nose, and she felt even better. After a few minutes, Madhav eased himself to move a little back and lay across the bed, with Anjali properly climbing on to him, and throwing her hip up and down to ride his dick. The pleasure was mounting despite her breath getting heavier. Her body had caught on fire with lust.
Eventually, she lay on the bed, across it, and invited Madhav to get on top. He lifted her legs up and wide, and then pushed his dick into her well fucked open hole. Anjali welcomed his sudden entry with a surprise cry, "haaah!" And then giggled a little. She had enjoyed it.
"I loved that, Madhav. I love you." She gasped.
"I love you too, dear," Madhav said and brought himself down to kiss her lovingly. They shared a lot of saliva during the kiss, and he soon started moving, fucking her properly. Her young and firm breasts kept changing their shape each second, dancing to the tune of his thrusts. The soft bed squeaked. The room was filled with the sound of them moaning and panting together. But still, the sound of their hips hitting each other became the loudest. Anjali was surprised by the strength and stamina of Madhav. She remembered that she hadn't particularly experienced the pleasure of his dick moving in and out of her pussy, and how tight it felt inside of her, due to the pressure of the situations both the previous times. Both times, she just wanted to merge with him and become his part rather than treating it like a lovemaking process. This time, however, it felt different. She wanted him to go on forever and keep on extending the pleasure.
"Keep going... Madhav... Don't stop... it's so good, oh God, please...." She had lost track of her words. She held her legs wide and accepted the hard pounding.
In her mind, she even wanted to warn him from cumming and killing the pleasure. She controlled her urge, though, seeing no sign of Madhav losing his strength. He took a couple of pauses in between to adjust and arrange his posture, and he went on to fuck her deeper and longer to push her senses beyond her grasp, and to a place she hadn't anticipated. An innate feeling to explode within gradually took over her, and she felt it all getting completely out of control.
"Aaahh... God! Oh my god, oh my god! Haaa..." She screamed with pleasure. She felt her whole body trembling with an unexpected sensation and goosebumps. She didn't hold back her response and pinched his skin while crying out through the orgasmic pleasure.
Madhav didn't stop there. He continued to fuck her steadily for more, and when he came down to kiss her, Anjali pushed her tongue into his mouth and let him suck it deep into his mouth. She felt an urge to make him suck all the saliva out of her mouth. And when he ended the kiss and smiled through the heavy breathing, she held his head still and licked over his lips. In response, he kissed her again and pressed his teeth deliberately on her lips. His thrusts were getting faster, and she felt his dick was growing even stronger inside her. She couldn't control the aching pleasure it gave her, and she cried.
"Oh my God... You are doing it so well, Dad... It is sooo good....aaahh...aaah..."
Madhav's breathing started resembling an animalistic grunt. Anjali felt he was preparing to cum.
"Do it... Dad... Inside me. I'll take a pill. Just finish it, please..." She encouraged him. Madhav remembered that she hadn't mentioned taking a pill before this.
"Did you take a pill last time too? Huh?" He asked, without pausing.
"I was on safe days, Dad."
"Oh," Madhav smiled as if he didn't expect that. He came down to kiss her once. And then he murmured, "Then I'm cumming inside you, my girl." So saying he rammed hard and then shot his load inside her. Anjali felt the thrill of getting her pussy filled with his hot sperm as joyous as the orgasmic pleasure she had experienced a few minutes ago. "It feels great, Madhav. I'm so happy now. You make me happy." She didn't feel shy to express her emotions.
Madhav panted heavily, and it took him some time to recover from the pleasure blast. Anjali kept caressing his arms and body. Madhav eventually fell and lay next to her, and Anjali quickly hugged him tight from the side.
"You are great, Dad."
"I love it when you call me Madhav. Am I that young?" Madhav wondered.
Anjali smiled at him sheepishly. "I've just found that you are so," she reached to kiss his neck, and patted lovingly at his cheek. "You are my Vinayak."
She didn't hesitate to bring back Vinayak's memory, for she didn't believe she was betraying him. Through Madhav, she felt like finding a way to return to Vinayak.

She kissed him again and again, as if each kiss was a seal to something sacred, something only the two of them could understand.

Afterwards, they lay in silence, their bodies tangled, their breaths slowly returning to rhythm. Anjali rested her head on his chest, her breasts pressing against his body, her fingers drawing lazy circles across his skin. She could sense the dampness on his chest. He had worked harder than ever, and it was worth it.

“I don’t know what this is,” she said after some time. “But it makes me feel… better. You make me feel better.”
Madhav turned his head towards her, though looked unsure of what to say. Anjali added with a grin, “You’re good at this. Not just good - great.”
He let out a low chuckle. “I know.”
She smiled, eyes soft and sleepy. “Let’s go somewhere. Anywhere. Away from this place, this house, these people. Just you and me. Somewhere, the world doesn’t know us. We could live in peace, with our memories. You’ll get your wife back. And I… I’ll get my Vinayak.”

She kept whispering, her voice growing more tired with each word, her fingertips gently stroking his chest. She felt strangely soothed by the contrast - the warmth of his body against her, and the cool air brushing her bare back.

Madhav remained quiet. He was still catching his breath from their intense session, his body feeling younger, strangely alive. A part of him wanted to say yes. Wanted to believe it was that simple.
But he knew the world they had to wake up tomorrow was not kind to people like them.

He closed his eyes and held her closer, letting her dream aloud. For tonight, at least, he would let her believe that such a world could exist.

[LovePookie]

wow awesome

[xfirefox]

oo oh! Anjali finds peace in her fil arms but Manohar feels his pride is being challenged, his ego doesn't see his daughter's feelings but only future that too through his self beliefs, and i believe Vikram is also fuelling manohar's rage for his own benefits, I think vikram is not only aiming for just Anjali but through her he's secretly gunning for Manohar's wealth, connection and power.

It's not anymore about Anjali but pride, ego and wealth.

very well

[sherlock096]

This chapter stands as one of the most psychologically intricate installments of the narrative thus far. The stark juxtaposition between Vikram's calculated pursuit and Madhav's quiet acceptance of Anjali's fragmented soul reveals the central tension she inhabits - the choice between being *claimed* and being *understood*.

Vikram's methodology is fascinating in its ruthlessness. He orchestrates an entire evening designed to lower her defenses - the charm, the apology that seemed genuine, the vulnerability of sharing his entrepreneurial struggles. Yet the moment she steps into that suite, the façade fractures. His language betrays him: "I don't enjoy long misunderstandings," "I'm not the kind of man who waits around." These are not the words of a romantic; they are the declarations of a man who views relationships as transactions requiring swift closure. When he demands a kiss as proof of "clarity," he reduces her agency to a binary test - one designed solely for him to declare victory.

The author's choice to have Anjali recognize his motive - "He was not after her. He was after winning" - is devastatingly precise. She perceives that his desire is not for *her*, but for the conquest itself. The kiss he forces upon her becomes an act of colonization rather than connection.

Which renders her return to Madhav all the more poignant. What unfolds in that bedroom transcends physical intimacy; it is a reclamation. She surrenders her body not in defeat, but in deliberate choice. The narrative frames this beautifully - she does not seek Madhav because he excites her; she seeks him because he *accepts* her without conditions or ultimatums. Her declaration, "I've chosen you, Dad," echoes with profound finality.

The closing reverie - her whispered fantasy of escaping to a place where she can rediscover Vinayak through Madhav - illuminates the tragedy. She is not falling in love with Madhav the man; she is clinging to Madhav the vessel, the last remaining tether to a ghost she cannot release.

Beautifully crafted. The emotional architecture here is exceptional.

[krish_999]

Chapter- Eight

The next morning, Madhav did not leave for the office at his usual time. He suggested to Anjali that they leave together for his office. By the time Anjali got ready, Shalini had finished her morning chores and left. And Madhav asked Anjali to sit on with him for a chat.
“Anjali, I'm not sure how serious you were when you suggested it last night," he began carefully. "About continuing like this… but I still want to talk about it. Because it's not realistically possible.”
Anjali remained silent, her eyes on the floor in front of her.
“We may have our own explanations to satisfy ourselves,” Madhav continued, “but that’s not how the world works. Everyone is answerable to someone, in some way.”
Anjali looked down at her hands.
“I know I have to move on,” she said quietly. “But sometimes… it feels hard to endure life...”
Madhav watched her for a moment before replying.
“You should at least consider the person your daddy has chosen,” he said. “Manohar isn’t saying it for himself. He believes it will be good for you.”

For a moment, Anjali wondered if she should tell him the truth, that Manohar already knew about what had happened between them. But the words refused to come.
Madhav leaned back slightly.
“And if you’re not comfortable with Vikram,” he added, “that’s fine. No one's forcing you. We can find someone else.”
She looked up, surprised.
“You don’t have to rush into anything serious. Just meet people. Have a coffee. Go on a short trip. Take a small vacation. You have friends, don’t you?”
His tone was calm, but the meaning was clear. He was stepping away from the mess.
Anjali said nothing.

They left for the office together. Nothing was spoken about the subject thereafter.
Until she got a call from her father, just before lunch break.

“So,” Manohar began, his voice betraying the eagerness in his mind, “how did it go with Vicky? Must have been a good evening, no?”
Anjali took a moment before replying. “He’s a decent person. Polite… but, Dad… he… I mean… he's a little weird. I don't know how you understand... he tried to....”
There was a pause, and then Manohar chuckled. “Well, Vicky told me he got a kiss from you. Didn’t sound like he was forcing anything.”
Anjali’s fingers clenched around the phone. “It wasn’t like that. He crossed the line.”
“You girls these days get upset over the smallest things,” he scoffed. “He’s going to be your husband. You’d better get used to closeness.”
Anjali closed her eyes, the familiar sting of powerlessness crawling up her spine. Her father’s tone wasn’t angry - it was worse, it was indifferent. Perhaps he was just content that he was finally making her do what he wanted. Her voice, however firm, always fell into an abyss when it came to matters he had already decided.

Anjali told Madhav about her father’s call. “He’s deciding everything,” she said angrily. “Where I live. Who do I marry? As if I don’t exist.”
Madhav listened, and after a long pause, he sighed.
“Anjali, last night you mentioned leaving the country and living in a distant world. It’s possible you said that in a sudden rush of emotion. Still, I wanted to tell you that it’s not practical, not even as an imagination to provide comfort to our minds."
Anjali frowned. “So we just pretend this never happened?”
“We know what we’ve lost,” he said calmly. “But running away won’t fix it. The world doesn’t disappear because we want it to.” He paused. “The pain… I know. But we can’t live with it forever. For that to happen, you need to move on.”
“From you?” she asked softly.
Madhav didn’t answer immediately. Then he nodded.

In the evening, she got multiple phone calls from Vikram. She didn't answer any of them.

The next day, something unusual happened. As she was walking through the corridor of Madhav’s office, Vedant - a young manager known for his professionalism and boyish charm - approached her.
He gave a polite smile. “Anjali, I hope this doesn’t come off the wrong way… but would you mind joining me for a coffee sometime?”
It was the first time he was talking to her. The only interactions they had until then were the smiles of acknowledgement they had exchanged during meetings.
She blinked. “Coffee?”
“I mean… if it’s okay to ask. You can say no. I just thought... I’d like to know you beyond meetings and reports.”
There was something disarming about his honesty. No games, no pretence. Just a kind request. After a moment’s pause, Anjali surprised herself by saying yes.

They met at a small café tucked away from the busy street. The lights were soft, and the breeze carried the scent of roasted beans and cold rain. They talked easily - mostly about office jokes and food, and later a bit about music and movies. He was witty, flirted gently, but never stepped across the line. Anjali found herself smiling more than she had in weeks. To help her feel at ease, Vedant never asked anything about Vinayak. He already knew the tragedy.

However, when it ended, Anjali suddenly wondered if Madhav had something to do with it. The timing of someone showing up to ask her out felt too convenient. Yet she didn’t ask Madhav. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. Perhaps she preferred that her doubt not turn out to be true.

In the evening, she left Vikram's phone calls unanswered as usual. But every time his name flashed on the screen, she found her heartbeats getting tighter. She was getting nervous.

That night, Manohar called again. His tone was not amused.
“You went out with another man? Who is this Vedant?”
"How do you know about Vedant?" She didn't know how her father had found out about her casual coffee date. “It was just a coffee.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Manohar's voice rose. “You need my push and convincing to go out with Vicky, but have no problem going with some random guy?"
Anjali stiffened. "It was just a coffee, Daddy." She said.
“I don’t care!” Manohar shouted. “From now on, I don’t want you to disrespect Vicky. Put it into your head, Anjali. This marriage is happening. You’d better write that on your wall, so you wake up every day and read it.”
Anjali’s protests were met with silence. He had hung up.

Two days later, after her morning yoga practice, Anjali was stepping into the shower. Madhav had already left for the office, and Shalini was preparing to leave after finishing her household chores.
Just as the warm water began to run down her shoulders, Anjali heard the doorbell ringing. Anjali closed the tap and tried to listen to know if Shalini was still there to answer the doorbell.
She heard the front door opening, and a few seconds later, Shalini's footsteps.
Shalini said it's someone named Vikram.
“Tell him to wait,” Anjali said aloud. “I’m in the shower. And can you make tea for Vicky before you leave?”
Shalini went back. Anjali closed her eyes as the water streamed over her face. She wondered why he had come. Perhaps Daddy would have told him he had chided his daughter, and now Vikram would be expecting her to show warmth and cooperation. Despite the anger, Anjali knew she had to be careful.
And she decided she needed to warn Vikram not to convey the outcome of every meeting to her daddy.

After finishing her shower, Anjali wrapped a towel around herself and hurried to her room to change. She had just slipped into her leggings and was holding her kurta against her front when there was a knock on the door.
“Anjali?” Vikram’s voice.
“I’m changing. Wait outside.”
The door opened anyway.

He stepped in and then tapped the door backward to close it behind him. His face was serious, impatient.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, “but I can’t wait anymore. I need to know. What’s the final word, Anjali? Yes or no? I can’t live in this uncertainty.”
Her heart began to pound. She clutched the kurta tighter across her chest.
“What is this behaviour, Vikram? Can’t you see I’m changing?” she snapped. “You should go out. Now.”
“I didn’t see anything,” he said calmly, dismissing her anger. “Put it on first, and then tell me your decision.”
“I still need time,” Anjali said as she forced herself out of the shock and quickly wore the kurti. She turned slightly to the side, but she knew it still exposed her bra-clad body to him. Vikram watched nonchalantly, as if she were simply drinking a cup of water.
“But why? Is there someone else?” His voice lowered. “Is there something you’re hiding?”
She didn’t turn to him, her mind racing. Vinayak. Madhav. The tangled truth she couldn’t speak. She kept adjusting the kurti on her body. The thin fabric clung to the places where there were still drops of water on her skin.
“Anjali.” He stepped closer, and the distance between them shrank. Anjali didn’t know what to do. For a moment, she even wondered why Shalini wasn’t showing up at the door.
He grabbed her hand and turned her toward him. “Tell me.”
She flinched. “Don’t. Don’t touch me.”
“I want you to trust me.”
“I’ll call Shalini,” she said sharply, raising her voice. “Shalini!”
Vikram didn’t move. “She left,” he replied evenly. “After serving the tea. I told her I've come to pick you up.”
Anjali’s stomach tightened. She had told Shalini to leave after making tea, but she wasn't ready to admit it to Vikram.
“You sent her away?” she asked.
“I just wanted some privacy,” he said. “Don’t overthink it.”
The room suddenly felt smaller. The air felt heavier.

The tension that had been building in her mind each time his name flashed on her phone screen over the past few days was now reaching a peak. She didn’t know how to respond.

“Don’t be scared of me, Anjali,” Vikram said nonchalantly, placing his hands softly on her upper arms. Then he lowered them slowly, his palms sliding along her forearms. After reaching her elbows, his grip tightened, and he continued downward, claiming her arms with deliberate firmness.
Anjali did not let go of her stance, but a wave of unease surged through her. He was forcing space between them.
“What are you doing? Leave my hand,” she protested, pulling her arms free from his grasp.
Vikram did not grab her again. Instead, he spoke softly, as though calming a restless child. “Shh… Anjali. Don’t fight what’s meant to be.”
Her voice trembled. “I’ll scream if you try to force me.”
“I have no such intentions, Anjali. We’re not going to have sex,” Vikram said calmly.
“Then what is this?” she demanded.
She backed away until she hit the edge of the dressing table. As she steadied herself by placing her hands behind her on the surface, her posture opened unintentionally. Though she was now fully dressed, she felt unbearably exposed under his gaze.
“Vikram! Stop this!” she shouted.
But he moved even closer.
“I just want you to understand how much I want you,” he said quietly.
“If this is how you show it, then you’re intimidating me. And I’ll have to keep my distance,” Anjali warned, trying to steady her breath.
His eyes moved over her slowly. She felt it—the weight of his stare, the hunger he was trying to mask behind measured breathing. It made her skin prickle, not with desire, but with alarm.
Then his voice shifted.
“I know what happened between you and your father-in-law.”
Anjali’s heart stopped.
“What?”

“Don’t try to deny it,” Vikram said, his tone steady but firm. “I’m the only person you don’t need to lie to anymore. Because I already know the truth.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Anjali froze - not because of his accusation, but because of the certainty in his voice.
For the first time, fear replaced anger.
And she realised this visit had never been about a proposal.
It had been about control.

Anjali's lips parted, but no words came out. A thousand questions bombarded inside her. The sum of all of those broken questions was how he knew.
Only her daddy had found out. But her daddy couldn't betray her like that.
Or had he whispered it in Vikram's ears so that he could stun her beyond self-grip?
No. It wasn't possible. She tried to assure herself.

Vikram stepped closer and gently cupped her face. “You look like lightning just struck you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “Do you think I don’t see how shattered you are?”

Vikram's face was moving closer to hers. She felt her breath would soon touch him. Anjali felt something hollowing out her chest. She wanted to scream. She wanted to vanish. Her heart ached with the force of a blow she hadn’t braced for.
“You probably have no idea how much I want you,” Vikram whispered, and before she could react, he kissed her.

This time, she didn’t stop him. Something in her had broken too far. She stood still, lips caught in his, limbs heavy with confusion and helplessness.
He paused briefly and touched his forehead to hers. “That’s how much you’ve grown into me,” he said. “You live here now - inside me.”
Then his lips found hers again, firmer, hungrier. His arms wrapped around her. She barely remembered that she was standing in an absurd condition. Her legs and arms were shaking from the inside. Her lips were being pulled into his mouth. The back of her hip was being invaded by his arms. And she couldn't even breathe properly.
She was dazed - lost between the power to resist and the will to surrender.
Vikram gave a break to the kiss after a few seconds, making Anjali gasp, though it didn't relieve her with any solace whatsoever.

“Do you love him, Anjali?” Vikram asked suddenly, his breath warm against her chin.
Anjali blinked, shaken by the question. “What?”
“Do you love your father-in-law the way you loved Vinayak?”
Anjali didn’t answer at once. Her gaze dropped. Her lips parted slightly.
“No,” she said finally, her voice a mere whisper.
“That’s all I needed to hear,” Vikram said, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You need saving. You need to be pulled out of this... illusion. And I’m going to do that. Because I love you more than anything in this world.”

Then he kissed her again. Longer. Deeper. His hands roamed her back, her waist, her hips, and pressed her closer. In a few seconds, he had her pinned against the dressing table. His lips trailed along her neck, down to her chest, and lower - his movements filled with a hunger she hadn’t felt from him before.
“Vikram...” she murmured, a hint of hesitation.
But he was already on his knees. His mouth pressed over her lower belly, then moved between her legs, still over the fabric of her clothes.
Her breath caught. “Vikram, stop…”
He looked up. “Don’t make me stop, Anjali. I just want to show you how much I want you. Believe me.”
"You are forcing me..." Anjali tried to talk.
“I won’t cross the line,” he said quietly. “I just want you to understand something. What happened in your past doesn’t frighten me. It doesn’t disgust me. If you think it makes you flawed, then I’m willing to accept those flaws.”
His voice softened, but the intensity did not.
“I’m not here to take something from you. I’m here to show you that nothing about you pushes me away.”
She swallowed. “Then what are you doing?”
“I’m communicating,” he replied. “How deeply you’ve grown inside my head. You can’t stop me now. Even I can’t. I’m obsessed with you, Anjali.”
The way he locked her eyes and said it froze her more than his touch.
He reached beneath the kurti, and she felt the last barrier fall away. Her mind screamed to move, to protest - but her body felt distant, unresponsive. Shock had numbed her.
Before she could respond, he reached under the kurti and tugged down her pants along with the panties in one swift motion. She gasped, hands instinctively reaching to stop him, but he was already there - pressing his mouth against her now bare centre. His tongue traced deliberate, aching circles. She whimpered, her body reacting against her will.
“Vikram… don’t… please…”
But his hands gripped her thighs and parted them further. He lifted one of her legs onto his shoulder, making her feel vulnerable - exposed - but unable to pull away.

His mouth moved with slow, deliberate precision, and his tongue began with a delicate touch over her inner lips. It tickled Anjali at first, with a sense of disgust still brimming inside her, and then her breath became shallow, her chest arching inward, and her mouth quivering.
Vikram’s tongue moved over her as if it were searching for an entrance. It finally stopped right at the opening, but he didn’t push it in. Instead, his lips moved and engulfed her, and then his tongue slid masterfully forward to directly touch her clit.
“Ahh… Vikram…” she gasped, clutching the edge of the table, knuckles pale.
Anjali didn’t realise it, but her body had been anticipating it, longing for a wet touch right there. The moment his tongue came into contact with her clit, she felt a shiver pass through her body, replacing the ticklish feeling with something new - something she had never felt before. And she didn't know which spell had been cast upon her.

It was the first time she was feeling a man’s tongue there. She never knew she would welcome him like this. She wanted to take her leg off his shoulder - but that was only until a moment ago. Vikram's tongue continued to move around her, and by the time he paused and looked up into her eyes, Anjali had surrendered her will to resist. She didn’t know when she had begun to see him as someone who held authority over her.
“This is all I want to do. Can you bear this version of me?” he asked, a tint of teasing in his eyes.
“Oh, Vicky… what are you doing with me?”
She sighed. The cold air now touching her exposed pussy annoyed her, but she didn’t know how to cover it.
“Did you like it?” he asked again.
He got up without waiting for her reply. Anjali barely placed her foot on the floor and steadied her breath as Vikram led her to the bed.
“Lie down here,” he said and kneeled again, as Anjali sat on the edge of the bed. Vikram grabbed her legs again, and Anjali knew what he was going to do. This time, she was ready. She lay back across the bed, stared at the ceiling, and let him lift and spread her legs. She closed her eyes and anticipated.
The warmth of his mouth and the wetness of his tongue met her again, and she let out a soft moan.

From there, Vikram met no resistance from her as he continued with unhurried exploration and confident rhythm. His mouth didn’t move away, even for a break. Heat coiled low in Anjali’s stomach as she let the pleasure spread through her body. To her own dismay, she was completely overwhelmed. She took deep breaths, gasping for air in an attempt to contain the rising waves within her. Her body had betrayed her, and she was no longer trying to resist. In fact, she didn’t hold back at all. Vikram's hands had started to freely explore the softness of her thighs at will. She didn’t mind.
“You know what?” Vikram suddenly lifted his head and asked.
Anjali was perplexed by the abrupt pause.
“I know that I can’t talk sweetly or softly to any girl. I cannot seduce women. And I have never tried, because I never found one worth trying for. You are the only one. Please forgive me.”
His apology came across like another joke, and Anjali laughed absurdly.
“Shut up, Vicky. What is left now to talk about?”
Vikram nodded and went back to his business. With each small break, Anjali’s consciousness drifted further away from her earlier objections to whatever he was doing to her.
Vikram grabbed her thighs and pulled her closer to the edge, lifting her legs over his shoulders again. Then he resumed, savouring her pussy like a long-cherished, precious dessert. However, a few seconds later, his intensity changed. He licked her hole and sucked her clit like a man possessed. Anjali soon lost her grip on herself. Within a few minutes, a wave of heat tore through her. Her knees weakened. Her whole body stiffened. She let out a broken moan as pleasure washed over her like a storm she didn’t ask for. The release melted her from within, and she trembled in the aftermath, unsure whether what filled her chest was relief, shame, or something else. She helplessly arched her body, and a cry escaped from her throat.
“Ahhh… ahh… oh… my God!”
She could feel herself melting from within, but Vikram continued to slurp it all without pause. Heat rushed to Anjali's face out of shame at having surrendered too much, yet she somehow resisted the urge to grab his hair and acknowledge what he had done to her. Her breathing was uneven, and her thighs still quivered from the force of the orgasm. A moment later, when the reality began to return, she became more aware of what had just struck her.
She pushed his head away and shifted her body upward slightly, instinctively pressing her knees together as if she could hide the evidence of her own surrender. But she had welcomed him without intending to. She had let go without meaning to.

She sat up, lowered her kurti, and continued to breathe heavily. Vikram slowly stood and gently picked up her panties from the floor to hand them to her.
“Was that your first time… something like that?” he asked, his voice tinged with satisfaction.
Anjali nodded slowly. “Yes.”
He smiled. “I’m glad I could give that to you. I hope there’s more to come.”
He stood there for two more seconds, staring at her with a smile. And then he left, not bothering to look back.

Anjali fell back onto the bed, not feeling any urgency to put on her panties again. She lay still for a long time, staring at the ceiling. Her mind drifted to memories of her intimacy with Vinayak - his slow-touches and smooth lovemaking style that had no clear beginnings or endings. He would start with a kiss and follow it with another, all while cracking jokes, telling stories, or discussing things they both found endearing. Even when he was on top of her, he never treated it like a task to be completed. He let it unfold naturally. There was no peak. There was no hurry. There was no panting rush or race to finish. There was no destination, and he had made her believe that the journey was the purpose; the destination wasn’t.
But fate had closed that chapter and now opened another for her. The shift felt so abrupt that Anjali couldn’t tell whether she was enjoying it or not.

That night, she felt drained. She didn’t sit with Madhav on the balcony. She went to bed early instead.
However, she couldn’t fall asleep as easily as she had hoped. Memories of Vinayak kept rushing back to her mind, but the dim outline of the ceiling above her kept pulling her back to the moments of the orgasm she had been unwillingly gifted by Vikram. The latter kept interrupting the tenderness of the former. No matter how much Anjali tried to calm her thoughts, she couldn’t find peace.
She longed for comfort, yet she didn’t feel strong enough to go to Madhav. She didn’t know how to ask him for what she now craved - to be taken again to the place Vikram had led her. The other day, Madhav had given her an orgasm, something she had never experienced with Vinayak. At that time, she had dismissed it as accidental. Now, realising that such pleasure could be consciously given and received, she felt an urge to tell him she had loved it. Her body desired it.
But she did not have the courage to walk into her father-in-law's bedroom and say it aloud.

[sherlock096]

This narrative presents a compelling, if disturbing, exploration of a woman's psychological and sexual entrapment. The writing is effective in building a claustrophobic atmosphere where Anjali is systematically stripped of her agency by the men around her.

Madhav represents a form of passive, cowardly control. His gentle but firm dismissal of their connection and immediate pivot to matchmaking her is a classic example of a man avoiding accountability while orchestrating her future to absolve himself. He's not a villain in the traditional sense, but his weakness is its own form of cruelty, leaving Anjali adrift.

Vikram, however, is a far more menacing creation. He is a master of psychological manipulation, weaponizing a supposed knowledge of her past to break down her defenses. The scene in her bedroom is a masterclass in depicting coercive control. It's not just a physical assault; it's a calculated campaign to overwhelm her senses and blur the lines between violation and pleasure.

And this brings us to the most crucial and disturbing question the narrative forces us to confront: the question of Anjali's integrity in the face of her body's betrayal. If she feels threatened and disgusted, how can her body respond? How can it submit, and how in hell does her pussy get wet? The answer is the key to understanding the depth of her trauma.

Anjali's integrity is not in question; her biological and psychological responses are. The story powerfully illustrates a critical truth: physical arousal is not synonymous with consent, desire, or emotional acceptance. The extreme fear and adrenaline Vikram induces trigger a primal, involuntary physiological response. This state of hyper-arousal can manifest physically—lubrication is a biomechanical preparation, not a vote of confidence from the soul. It's the body's dumb, biological protocol, not a reflection of her will.

Furthermore, Vikram's actions are a direct, skilled application of stimulation to one of the most nerve-dense parts of the body. Regardless of the source, the body can and will respond to expert, targeted stimulation. Anjali's mind is also dissociating—a common trauma response where the self detaches to survive the horror. In this state, the connection between mind and body is severed. The body experiences sensation while the conscious self is "gone." When the orgasm hits, it's a purely physical release of tension, a storm that passes through a body whose owner has temporarily vacated the premises.

The definitive proof of her integrity lies in the aftermath. She doesn't feel connection or love. She feels "shame," "dismay," and "helplessness." She immediately tries to "hide the evidence of her own surrender," and the narrative explicitly states her "body had betrayed her." This is not the reaction of a willing participant. It is the reaction of a victim whose own physiology has been used as a weapon against her, compounding the violation with a deep sense of self-betrayal. Her integrity remains intact because her *will* was never aligned with his actions. The tragedy is that she is now left to grapple with a horrifying paradox: the most intense physical pleasure of her life was gifted to her by a man she fears, in an act of profound violation. This dissonance is not a sign of her flawed character; it is the signature of a deep and complex trauma.

[xfirefox]

things are not making sense to me anymore, is she a 10 year old kid or a girl who just attained puberty.

i have seen it happenning in most of the stories where female is a protagonist, and almost every writer portray a female character as if she is so naive and dumb, can't really make decisions and their emotions and thoughts are everywhere.

either introduce new pragmatic characters or stop revolving and make everything about her. I can't take such a sissy character. if her character will keep evolving and portraying on same lines, then I won't read this story.

[fuckandforget]

super update. vikram can give her something that her wimp husband and his dad did not give. That would make her slut of him.

[Ragasiyananban]

I thought Vikram would introduce a new world that she is not aware of.
Now she has alternatives Vikram, madhav and vedant.
How many more cocks waiting to enter inside.
She will later think good that vinayak died
if not, she wouldnt have known there are better pleasures exists in the world

[Vasanthan]

Only good thing is that she did not have a child from the husband. Otherwise, there will be a problem of who is gonna take care of it in future.

[krish_999]

Chapter – Nine


Lying awake, Anjali found herself thinking about what had happened.
The memory disturbed her. She had believed she hated Vikram in that moment. Yet the pleasure he had given her was overwhelming. It was more intense than anything she had known before.
She wondered if she really hated him as much she wanted to. She was forced to ask questions to herself.
Had Vikram ever done anything wrong to her before? No. After Vinayak’s death, he had not tried to contact her or intrude into her life. Even when he had the chance to truly force himself on her, he hadn’t.
Instead, he had remained strangely calm, simply telling her what he wanted. There is sense of weirdness in him, which made him look different from Vinayak. Or anyone who's looked at Anjali with a sense of infatuation. There's desperation in Vikram, but that's not for physical intimacy. He's at the most trying to get a yes from me. He's bold in his attempts, that's it.
But the same sense of calmness he carries makes him look calculative and dangerous.
That calmness unsettled Anjali more than his boldness.
Anjali closed her eyes, uneasy with the direction of her thoughts.
Was Vikram really the man she had decided he was?
Or was she only trying to explain something her body had already accepted?
The more she thought, Anjali felt mentally exhausted. The heaviness inside her refused to lift. She felt as though the walls of the house were closing in on her. She needed air and space - distance from everything.

At breakfast, she told Madhav, “Dad, I'm planning to take a trip for a few days.”
Madhav looked at her. “A trip?”
“Yes, a solo trip. I just need some time alone. Somewhere quiet.”
He nodded before replying, “You could take someone along. It might help.”
Anjali shook her head immediately. “No. I want to be alone for a while.”
Madhav studied her face for a few seconds, as if trying to read something beneath her calm tone. Finally, he nodded.
“Alright,” he said gently. “If that’s what you need.”
Before she started planning the trip, she wanted to know something from her father. After breakfast, she phoned Manohar.
“Are you alone?” she asked.
“Yes. What happened?”
“Why did you tell Vikram?” she asked directly. “About Dad and me. About that night.”
It was the first time she had openly admitted it. Until now, even mentioning that night had felt soaked in shame. But today, the shame seemed irrelevant. The secret was no more a secret between her and her father.
“I told him nothing,” Manohar said, sounding genuinely confused. "I want you guys get married, not fight."
“He said he knows what happened between Dad and me.”
There was no reply from the other end for a few seconds. Anjali waited. Then Manohar spoke.
“Did he give you details?” he asked.
“No.”
“Then he’s guessing,” Manohar replied calmly. “Did he mention any details?” he asked again.
“No.”
“Then he’s testing you. If he sensed something unusual between you and Madhav, he may have pushed to see how you’d react.”
Anjali’s mind raced. Had she ever behaved strangely in front of Vikram? A glance? A silence? She couldn’t remember anything specific.
“Did you deny it?” Manohar asked.
She hesitated. “I didn’t confirm it.”
“That may have been enough,” he said. “Silence can sound like confession.”

Anjali felt the weight of that settle inside her. If Vikram had been bluffing...
Had she just given him the truth herself?

"And then? What did he say?" Manohar asked curiously.
"He said he still wants to marry me," Anjali said softly.
"Oh," Manohar sighed. Anjali could be feel the sense of relief in his voice. “I didn’t tell him anything, dear,” he went on. “I don't know anything. Have you done anything with Madhav in front of him?"
Anjali was stunned. "What are you saying daddy? What would I do with Dad in front of Vikram?"
"I mean... Hugging and all. Or sitting very close."
"Don't be rubbish daddy." Anjali scoffed. "Have you ever seen me doing that?"
"But I've seen you walking out of his room. You were half naked." Manohar said bitterly.
Anjali was speechless for a moment. She hated her dad for saying that again.
"Daddy..." She paused a moment to gather her thoughts. "I told you it had happened out of a momentary fall."

Even as she was saying, she remembered that she had walked into Madhav's bedroom with complete will and had sex with him. And then, another day, she had grabbed his hand and walked into her room to make love, even making him contemplate a future with her. She hated herself for having to hide it all. There was no choice other than to pretend it never happened.

"I didn't mean to hurt you again, dear," Manohar said. "Anyways, it doesn’t matter, does it? Vicky still wants to marry you. That should mean something. He’s not like others. He knows your past, your mistakes… and still, he sees a future with you. That’s rare, Anjali.”
Anjali said nothing. She rememebred the forceful kiss and intimate experience she received from Vikram in the previous weeks. The phone call was intented to know if her father was hiding somethign from her, but she ended up realising that it was her who had hidden a lot more from him.

Anjali didn’t have the patience to wait. She called Vikram. “How did you find out?” she asked without greeting. She didn't pretend to deny it anymore.
There was a pause from the other end before he replied.
“Find out what?”
“Don’t play games,” she snapped. “You said you know what happened between Dad and me. So tell me - how?”
She heard Vikram exhaling slowly. She pressed the phone closer to her ear as if to listen to his heartbeats. She felt she had to do this conversation in person.
“We’ll talk about it,” Vikram said.
“No. We’ll talk about it now.”
“Anjali,” he said calmly, “this isn’t a phone conversation.”
Her grip tightened around the mobile. “Why not?”
“Because I want to see your face when I answer.”
Anjali couldn't say anything. She suddenly felt she wasn't the one who's asking questions. She's the one who's being asked questions.
“I’ll tell you later,” he continued. “Don’t overthink. I can’t stop thinking about you, even when I’m drowning in work. I’m coming to the city for a friend’s birthday. Come with me.”
“I don’t know...”
“I’ll pick you up. I’ll drop you off. You’ll be safe. I promise.”

But she still felt better because of Manohar's denial. At least he didn't betray his daughter. she felt sorry for doubting him. That night she flet normal, having dinner at home.

That Friday evening, he arrived in a premium cab, dressed in a white linen shirt and blue chinos, looking sharp and effortlessly charming. Madhav opened the door, and to Anjali’s shock, Vikram greeted him warmly - as if nothing had ever happened between Anjali and her father-in-law. There was no contempt. No judgement.

“Evening, sir,” Vikram said casually, as Madhav nodded back.
As the men broke into a freindly conversations, Anjali felt heat rising in her cheeks. Eventually, Vikram turned to her and acknowledged. “You look gorgeous,” he said with a warm smile. Anjali blushed, unsure if she should respond.

At the party, Anjali expected the teasing, the touches, the slow creeping of intimacy that had defined their last meeting. But to her surprise, Vikram did none of that. He introduced her as a close friend, laughed with her, and treated her like a confidante - not a conquest.
When she asked about it, he smiled, “I haven’t told anyone about our plans. I’ll only speak of it once you accept it completely. Not before that.”

The respect in his tone unnerved her. It made her feel seen… and desired, not as a body, but a person. It was entirely different from the experiences she had with him when they met earlier. In all those times, they were alone.
The lights at the party shimmered above them as soft music filled the background. Vikram stood beside Anjali, holding a glass of juice, his eyes fixed on the dance floor, though his thoughts were clearly elsewhere.

Then, out of nowhere, he turned to her and said, “It was at a birthday party like this… you broke my heart.”
Anjali looked at him, surprised.
“That evening,” he said, voice softer now, “it was a few days after you told me you were in a relationship with Vinayak. I was coping with the rejection. And then came this party.... he had come there too. That was the first time I saw you together.”

Her memory stirred. She remembered that party clearly. A lot had happened between her rejecting Vikram's proposal and accepting Vinayak's. She had fallen in love, and their relationship was just flourishing. She had even spend a couple of warm nights with Vinayak.

“You had even danced with him,” Vikram added, looking away. “I didn’t stay till the end. I couldn’t. I told my friends something silly and left the scene.”
Anjali lowered her eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Vick
y. I had no idea you felt that way.”
He smiled faintly. “You don’t have to apologise. You were in love with someone else. And now… you’re with me. That’s all that matters.”
Anjali looked at him, warmed by the gentleness in his voice. For a moment, she felt seen. She felt understood. And she realised how far they both had come from that distant evening.

By now, Anjali was expecting Vikram to make a move. She waited for his hand to brush her waist, for his lips to find hers in a drunken whisper. But he kept his distance.

Yet by the end of the evening, as they drove back under city lights, Anjali was battling an unexpected emotion - disappointment. She couldn’t understand it. Why had she longed for his touch? Why had her body anticipated being undressed again? Why had she worn that silky soft dress that revealed her shapes and curves perfectlyknowing exactly how easily it would turn him on? By the time he dropped her off at home, she was burning with a frustrated desire. She couldn't tell what was happening to her. She couldn't look straight into his eyes. The hunger had grown in her without warning, without invitation. Madhav received her, and after having a chat with her, he went to sleep. Anjali felt it was strange that she hadn't thought about Madhav all this evening. It was sure that Madhav wasn't who she was craving.

That night, the dark visuals of the ceiling in her room brought back memories of the other day with a vengeance. The strange sensation she had been hiding between her thighs demanded attention. While trying to find a cozy posture to fall into comfort, her hands first slipped between her thighs, and slowly sneaked inside her palazzo. She closed her eyes as if admitting defeat, and let her fingers touch the tip of her clit. The other hand's fingers went into her mouth, and she sucked on them, remembering how Vikram had sucked on her clit the other day. Her crazy mind reproduced Vikram's scent around her, and the fingers inside her panties dove further deep into her pussy. She moved it back and forth, in search of some warmth. But no matter how hard she searched for it, it wasn't working. The warmth she had felt under Vikram’s tongue, the release he had given her - her fingers couldn’t match it. She lay back, breathless and angry with herself.
What have I become? Is this how grief fades? Having waves of desire and regret?
She questioned.

Eventually, she pulled Vinayak’s photo back into her chest, held it tight, and wept.

As she lay in anger and frustration, the thought of Vinayak slowly began to take over. It struck her - how silent he had become in her memories. Once, his voice echoed in every corner of her day. But now... now it was just a whisper, fading.
She had already broken too many rules she once believed in.
No. Not anymore.
Anjali sat up and shook her head. She walked to the window and stared at her reflection in the glass. She forced herself to meet her own eyes. Tired eyes, torn - but still searching for strength.
She whispered, “This won’t happen again. I won’t let Vicky do that again. I won’t let him touch me like that again.”
Her fingers curled into a fist.
She had made a vow.

But she had no idea how determined Vikram was ,to break her resistance, to take her to his bed, and to make her cry out his name in pleasure.

[LovePookie]

nice update

[sherlock096]

My apologies for the late comment.

This update offers a fascinating, if unsettling, dive into the labyrinth of a woman's mind after a trauma that blurs with pleasure. It's strange how you've captured Anjali's internal conflict so precisely—that space where the body's memory betrays the mind's narrative. Her attempt to intellectualize Vikram, to label him "calculative and dangerous," feels like a desperate attempt to regain control, but her body's subsequent yearning for his touch at the party completely undermines it.

The scene where she tries to recreate his touch herself is particularly raw. It's a powerful depiction of self-betrayal, where her own fingers become a source of frustration, a stark reminder that the pleasure was tied to the person, not just the act. You've painted a very real, very uncomfortable picture of grief and desire becoming tangled, where one doesn't fade so much as get replaced by a more urgent, more complicated hunger. Her final vow feels less like a statement of strength and more like a fragile dam against a flood she knows is coming. It's a compelling and psychologically complex piece of writing.

[sherlock096]

My apologies for the late comment.

This update offers a fascinating, if unsettling, dive into the labyrinth of a woman's mind after a trauma that blurs with pleasure. It's strange how you've captured Anjali's internal conflict so precisely—that space where the body's memory betrays the mind's narrative. Her attempt to intellectualize Vikram, to label him "calculative and dangerous," feels like a desperate attempt to regain control, but her body's subsequent yearning for his touch at the party completely undermines it.

The scene where she tries to recreate his touch herself is particularly raw. It's a powerful depiction of self-betrayal, where her own fingers become a source of frustration, a stark reminder that the pleasure was tied to the person, not just the act. You've painted a very real, very uncomfortable picture of grief and desire becoming tangled, where one doesn't fade so much as get replaced by a more urgent, more complicated hunger. Her final vow feels less like a statement of strength and more like a fragile dam against a flood she knows is coming. It's a compelling and psychologically complex piece of writing.

[Aladdin_Aur_Jadui_Chirag]

https://xossipy.com/thread-26419.html

Wating this summer

This summer wating and wating
Boss

[sherlock096]

Dear Krish, I trust you are well.

You had indicated that the update would be provided on 24th March; may I kindly request a status update at your earliest convenience? I remain in eager anticipation of your response.

[krish_999]

Chapter - ten

Ever since Anjali decided to stay away from Vikram, she had started feeling lighter in her mind. Even Vedant sensed it when she ran into him at the office the next day.

“You look cheerful today,” he said, studying her face.
“Do I?” Anjali smiled, slightly surprised.
Vedant leaned casually against the table. “Coffee today? I have some field work in the afternoon, but I’ll be free around five.”
“Okay,” she said, almost immediately.
He mentioned the name of a café, but Anjali didn’t bother to remember it. She had already decided she would go.
“Five o’clock then,” Vedant said.
“Five,” she nodded.
In the evening, before leaving the office, Anjali glanced at herself. She was wearing an orange sleeveless top with a small collar, fitted neatly around her waist, and loose matching trousers that moved softly as she walked. Her hair was tied back in a simple ponytail, giving her a proper office-going appearance. It looked far from something suited for an evening date - and that, in a way, helped her stay calm about it.
As she began to gather her things, she tried to recall the name of the café Vedant had mentioned. Strangely, she couldn’t. She hadn’t paid attention when he said it.
She decided she would message him once she stepped outside the office complex.
But just as she walked out of the building, a car pulled up sharply beside her.
She turned.
It was Vikram.

He lowered the windshield.
"Leaving early?" he asked.
"Got bored at the office," she blurted without thinking.
Vikram got out of the car and came around to open the door for her. "Get in. I'm taking you out for a coffee."
Anjali hesitated for a moment, surprised and caught off guard. She felt she had little choice.
She silently got in and waited. Vikram walked around the car to get back in from the other side.
"Why didn’t you wait for Madhav?" Vikram asked as he started the car.
"He isn’t in the office today," she replied. "He might be late."
Anjali then turned to him. "Why did you come to the city?"
Vikram didn’t answer. He simply kept driving.
Meanwhile, Anjali took out her phone and sent Vedant a message.
"Sorry, I can’t make it today."
A moment later, Vedant replied with a sad emoji.
"Okay. We’ll catch up another time."
Just then, Vikram spoke. "Let’s stop somewhere. Do you have any favourite place?" he asked.
Anjali shook her head, and Vikram mentioned the name of a café.
Anjali tried to remember if it was the same café Vedant had suggested earlier. She couldn’t be sure. The thought of running into Vedant there made her uneasy.
"I don’t want to go to any café, Vicky," she said quickly. "I’d rather go home."
Vikram glanced at her briefly. "Would I be welcome there?"
Anjali thought of Shalini. She would definitely be home at this hour. And this time, Anjali was determined that nothing like the previous incident would happen again.
"Why not?" she said calmly. "I’ll ask Shalini to make coffee for you."
However, when they reached home, Shalini wasn’t there. Anjali unlocked the door and stepped in, glancing at the quiet living room. She took out her phone and dialled Shalini.
"Where are you, Shalini?" she asked.
"I’m at the hospital with my daughter," came the reply. "She wasn’t feeling well. I’ll be back around your usual return time."
"Okay, take your time," Anjali said and ended the call.
She turned to Vikram. "Looks like we have the place to ourselves for a while. Why don’t you sit down here while I make some coffee?"
She was thinking of using the time to get the truth about how Vikram had found out the secret between her and Madhav. Did he know, or was he just bluffing?
"Sounds good," Vikram said, walking in behind her. She didn’t expect him to follow her to the kitchen. For a moment, she wondered if she should ask him to sit in the living room. She knew he wouldn’t, and she didn’t ask.
In the kitchen, as the coffee brewed, Vikram stood beside her, leaning casually against the counter. They spoke about the day, the weather - small things that didn’t matter much but kept the air light.
She kept her patience until she poured the coffee into two cups and handed him one.
Then, without warning, Anjali asked, "You still haven’t told me how you found out what happened between Dad and me."
He gave her a half-smile. "Do you still call him Dad?"
Anjali couldn’t face him. She stood quietly.
He shrugged. "It’s difficult to answer, I know. Don’t worry. I just asked now because you brought up the subject. Otherwise, you know I’ve been thinking about you - a lot, actually. But it’s not what you think. I’ve been imagining places we could travel to… places we could explore together after marriage."
Her hands paused, the spoon clinking lightly against the rim of the mug. She looked at him, her expression unreadable. But his way of talking and changing the subject had a calming effect on her, as if her mind had become lighter than a moment ago. He wasn’t asking the questions he deserved to ask, she felt.
"So," she said slowly, "is this you asking me to marry you?"
Vikram chuckled, shaking his head. "Not yet. You’re not ready, remember?"
"Then what is this?"
He stepped a little closer, his voice softer now. "I was thinking… why wait? Why not travel now, just like that? As friends."
She laughed, teasing him. "You’d travel with me just as a friend?"
He took another step forward, his presence suddenly more magnetic, more intense.
"Of course," he said, his voice low and playful. "Though I’m sure we’d have a few… intimate moments. I mean, who could resist the temptations around you? I don’t know how you’re feeling about me, but… You know that I’ve been in love with you for so long, don’t you?"
Anjali felt her cheeks flush. He was standing so close now, his gaze locked with hers. A nervous flutter rose in her stomach, but she didn’t back away.
As she looked up into his eyes, her breath caught. She didn’t say a word. The sip of her coffee had left a line of foam above her lips, and she almost licked it away with her tongue.
"Don’t," Vikram said. Then he gently slid his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. His lips brushed hers in a slow, deliberate kiss, the foam disappearing as he kissed her.
She closed her eyes, surrendering to the moment. There was hesitation in her heart, but her body didn’t resist. She slowly lowered the coffee cup.


The kiss carried all the hunger Vikram had held back for days. His lips moved with an urgency that made Anjali forget every promise she had made to herself the night before. She melted into him, her breath mingling with his, letting him draw her in, responding to his rhythm.
Vikram turned her swiftly, pressing her back against the cold granite of the kitchen counter. His mouth moved with growing intensity now - from her lips to her neck, then lower - trailing heat wherever he kissed. Anjali gasped, her breaths sharp and uneven. She didn’t raise a hand to stop him. She didn’t want to.
His voice came in a low murmur, rough with desire.
"I want to taste you again, Anjali," he said, his fingers brushing along her waist.
Anjali stiffened slightly, the memory of that other day rushing back to her with a mix of guilt and pleasure. She knew this was spiralling fast. But instead of pulling away, she looked down at him - flushed, breathing hard - and whispered,
"In the kitchen?"
Vikram chuckled softly and shook his head.
"Of course not," he said, his voice playful but thick with desire.
He reached behind her and, without warning, scooped her into his arms. Anjali let out a small gasp, startled, but didn’t resist. His grip was firm and secure, and the way he looked at her made her heart flutter. She knew she had a slim figure, and he had a strong build, but the ease with which he lifted her made her feel weightless in his arms. She was ashamed of the enthrallment she felt, despite all the premeditated hatred she had held toward Vikram.

He carried her to her bedroom with quiet urgency. Anjali looked on as he laid her gently on the bed, her breath caught somewhere between hesitation and surrender.
Before she could speak, he slid his hands down, and in one swift motion, he reached under her top, grabbed the waistband of her trousers, and pulled them down. Anjali’s mind barely had a moment to register what was happening. There was no time to think, no space for guilt or restraint. Vikram had already freed her legs from the trousers and her panties, settled himself between her thighs, gently and reverently spreading them - and then his mouth found her.
Anjali felt a wave of goosebumps take over her body. She could suddenly remember how much she had been longing for this, unknowingly.
Anjali gasped, her body arching as his tongue traced over her with slow, deliberate strokes.
"Vicky..." she breathed, barely above a whisper, her voice trembling with need.
His hands gripped her thighs, keeping her open, while his tongue moved expertly over her soft folds, teasing and tasting her with aching precision. Anjali clutched at the bed sheet, then his hair, unable to stay still. Her hips moved instinctively, seeking more.
Soft moans escaped her lips, then grew louder as waves of pleasure started building inside her.
"Oh God... Vicky..." she whimpered, gripping his hair tighter.
Her inhibitions were slipping fast, drowned in the rhythm of his tongue and the deep, raw ache he was stirring inside her.
Anjali’s body quivered as the climax surged through her. This time, there was no pause to acknowledge the surprise. She probably knew it was due and that it would come. Her back arched, her fingers still tangled in his hair, and then she fell back onto the bed with a trembling sigh, her limbs slack and her breath shallow. It felt as though her soul had momentarily left her body and was slowly floating back in.

She lay there still, eyes closed, a faint smile curving her lips, as if caught in some beautiful trance.
Vikram shifted up beside her, his breath warm against her shoulder. He looked at her, his eyes filled with amusement and curiosity.
"Has Vinayak ever gone down on you?" he asked casually, as if picking up a conversation in the middle of something utterly ordinary.
Anjali opened her eyes slowly and turned her head to look at him. Her cheeks colored with a blush, but she didn’t look away.
"He tried once," she admitted, her voice soft. "But he said he didn’t like the taste… and never did it again."
Vikram chuckled under his breath, clearly surprised.
"That’s strange," he said. "Because you taste amazing. Honestly, I could stay between your legs for hours."
Anjali blinked at him, her lips parting in mild surprise.
"Really?"
"Mmm," he nodded, brushing a finger along her thigh. "And you know what’s even more thrilling? The taste changes when you’re turned on."
She raised herself slightly on her elbows, her curiosity piqued.
"Come on. Nothing like that!" she said, almost incredulous.
Vikram grinned, clearly enjoying her reaction.
"Yes," he said. "At first, it’s kind of plain, warm… clean. But as you start getting aroused, it becomes tangy - like your body is preparing, craving. That change… it drives me wild."
Anjali stared at him, trying to process this new, intimate truth about her own body - something she had never known, never even imagined.
"I had no idea," she said quietly, the trance slowly turning into something deeper - a feeling of being seen and desired in a way she never had before.
Anjali turned her head slightly, her expression a blend of curiosity and amusement.
"So… you know when I get excited?" she asked, her voice low, almost playful.
Vikram leaned on one elbow beside her, the corner of his mouth curling into a smile.
"Yes," he replied simply. "That’s why last time, when you were trying to stop me… I didn’t. From your taste, I knew you were enjoying it. That’s how I could tell. If you genuinely wanted me to stop, your body wouldn’t have responded like that. And I would have stopped, Anjali. I promise you that."
Her expression softened. A sense of quiet relief settled over her.
"Good to know you weren’t forcing me that day," she said sarcastically.
He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Anjali, I’ll never force you to do anything. Ever."
She looked at him, her eyes filled with something deeper now - a question she had perhaps wanted to ask but never dared until now.
"But… how is it that you’re satisfied even when only I climax?"
Vikram tilted his head slightly and let out a slow breath.
"I’m not satisfied physically," he admitted. "But I’m content knowing you’re happy. That’s mental satisfaction… and sometimes, it’s even more important."
Anjali’s gaze lingered on him, searching.
"So… are you satisfied now, mentally?"
He smiled again, but this time with mischief in his eyes.
"Not yet."
She raised an eyebrow, smiling despite herself.
"Then?"
"We have time, don’t we?" he asked, his voice lowering.
She looked toward the wall clock.
"Madhav could come back any moment."
"Not at his usual time," he said, then added, "But still, we’d better hurry," he whispered.
Anjali felt a small jolt of excitement rush through her. His tone, the glint in his eye - she could sense he wasn’t done yet. There was more. Her curiosity rose.
"What’s on your mind?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
Vikram didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed her softly between her legs, sending a shiver through her. She gasped as he pulled back, leaving her skin tingling. Then he sat her up gently and brought his lips to hers, kissing her deeply. His hands moved to her top, and he slowly peeled it off, revealing her bare breasts. He kissed around them tenderly, taking his time.

Then, he looked up, eyes brimming with emotion.
"I love you, Anjali," he said. "These moments… I’ve dreamt of them for so long. Just to hold you like this. I’m not here because my fate placed me here. I’m here because I deserve to be. I’ve loved you… deeply. Sometimes I feel you shouldn’t have married him, because I deserved you more. I was just late. And it was my mistake that I couldn’t convince you back then."
Anjali's breath caught. His words pierced through layers of time and memory. And for a moment, she forgot the world beyond the walls of that room.
Anjali was blown away by his words. As Vikram unbuttoned his pants and pulled himself free, her eyes locked onto him. She blinked, startled by the dark shade - darker than she remembered with Vinayak. There was something unfamiliar about it, something that made her hesitate.
But when Vikram brushed her hair back, his hand resting lightly behind her ear, her body moved on its own. She leaned forward, her breath warm and unsure, lips parting as instinct took over, taking him in.
“Oh... so warm. So good, my love,” he sighed. Anjali's mouth was filled with his length. Yet she continued to move, letting it go in until it almost touched the back of her throat. She felt the warmth on her tongue as it brushed the underside of his length, and she felt it grow with each of her movements. For the next few minutes, Anjali moved rhythmically, back and forth, adjusting to his girth. Eventually, fatigue set in; her neck began to ache. She pulled back and looked up.
“It’s hurting my neck, Vicky,” she said apologetically.
“Shall I help?” Vikram asked, holding her head gently as he began to move his hips, quickening the rhythm. The tip of his length occasionally nudged the back of her throat, making her gag.
“It’s okay, baby. You’re doing so well,” he murmured, lost in the pleasure of her mouth.
“Seems like Vinayak didn’t give you much practice at this,” he added with a teasing smirk, pulling out for a moment.
“He used to be... soft,” Anjali said, panting as she wiped the trail of saliva from her lips.
“Don’t wipe it, baby. It looks good,” Vikram said, watching her.
“I’d look nasty.”
“Yes,” he grinned, “nasty is hot - when we’re in bed, isn’t it?”
He gave her cheek a light slap. She blinked, startled, though it didn’t hurt.
He thrust himself back into her mouth, his intensity only growing. Anjali struggled to match his pace, but she yielded, letting him lead as her saliva spilt from the corners of her lips.

“So good, Anjali. So nasty, my girl. You’re my little bitch, aren’t you? You want to be my little bitch, right? You want me to cum, don’t you?”
He kept saying, his voice thick with desire, and pulled himself out just as he asked the last question.
Anjali panted heavily, her breath catching as she gagged again.
“Aahhh…”
“Come on, baby. You can’t take any more now. I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, then kissed her mouth fiercely, tasting her, before pushing her down onto the bed.
Anjali fell back across the bed, panting heavily to catch her breath. Vikram climbed up, planted one knee at the edge, and lowered himself between her legs. The next thing she felt was his length pushing into her, filling every inch of her, leaving her breathless and unable to protest.
“Oh, so tight,” he groaned. “Feels like a virgin, baby.”
Vikram said in excitement as he thrust deeper into her.
Anjali could only moan in response.
“How often does he fuck you, baby?”
The question stunned her.
“What?” she gasped.
“Madhav. Your father-in-law. How often do you give it to him?”
Anjali couldn’t quite register what she felt in that moment. A part of her recoiled in shame - she felt stripped of her dignity, reduced to something far lesser. And yet, deep inside, she wondered if she still had the right to feel offended.
Vikram had begun to move his hips, each thrust making it harder for her to think straight.
“Damn... fuck, you’re such tight fun. He didn’t get it the way I am - no way you gave him as much as you're giving me,” Vikram muttered, his voice thick with lust.
“Vicky... aaahh,” Anjali moaned. “I’ve just had it... aaa... once. It was... just... aaa... accidental... aaa... it happened... aaah…”
“Just once? Oh God,” Vikram grinned, a wave of satisfaction spreading across his face. “That’s so bad... but the old man can still feel lucky, huh? Because you’re such a sweet little bitch. Do you like me, baby? Do you like it when it moves like this, huh?”
He slowed down deliberately, drawing himself all the way out before pushing back in, his voice teasing, his rhythm steady.
“Mmm...” Anjali could barely form a word, her body trembling beneath him.
He grabbed her breasts and began thrusting with more intention. Anjali felt the strength of his palms pressing into her softness, the sensation sending ripples through her body. At the same time, she sensed another orgasm rising, swelling inside her.
“Aaah... Vicky... please... aah... slow...” she almost cried out, her voice breaking.
“Oh, you’re coming again, bitch, aren’t you?” he growled, a wicked grin tugging at his lips.
He asked, then suddenly slapped her face - without force, more like a taunt. But his next move came harder; he struck her left breast with his left hand, sharp enough to sting. Yet, she was far beyond pain.
“Aaah...” was all she could cry out, her voice cracking as another wave surged through her. It flooded her insides, overwhelming her in ways she couldn't comprehend.
“Oh my God... what... is this... Vicky... my God...” she gasped, trembling with disbelief and pleasure.
“You little bitch. Yes, come for me, baby. You fucked your daddy, but you deserved this - someone like me. Oh my God... you’re such a filthy little dream.” Vikram grunted as he thrust deeper. “Tell me, honey, do you want me to cum inside you?”
Anjali was slipping into a trance again, her second orgasm flooding through her like a wave that dulled everything else. But his last question cut through the haze, snapping her senses back into focus.
“Oh, Vicky... no…” she barely managed to say.
But Vikram had already pulled out and stood up.
“Okay then, get up, my girl,” he said, grabbing her arm and lifting her to sit at the edge of the bed.
“Open your mouth. I’m so close.”
Without waiting, he pushed his throbbing length past her lips and gave a single stroke. The next moment, Anjali gasped as a thick stream hit the back of her throat. He pulled out, holding himself in front of her, and the next spurt splashed across her lips and chin.
"Swallow it, baby. You'll love it. Drink it for me, sweety... haaah,"
Vikram said and jerked again. Anjali had already swallowed what had slid down her throat, and Vikram watched her with deep satisfaction.
He held her under the chin and pressed his fingers on either side of her mouth to open it again, then brought his length back between her lips.
“A little more. Drink it, baby. It’s all of me… it’s for you… just for you…”
Anjali couldn’t do anything but obey. She felt the warm fluid spread across her tongue and quickly swallowed it, trying to rid herself of the sensation. Yet, Vikram still pushed himself back into her mouth.
“Lick it clean, baby. You did great. Just awesome, my girl.”

Anjali obeyed like a machine under his control. The surreal haze of two back-to-back orgasms had faded, and now she felt like she had been used. But something deep inside her had shifted - so much had moved beneath her feet that she could hardly find a place to stand or think straight. She sucked him clean, then wiped her mouth and face with her own trousers. His thick fluid had left her skin sticky, and she felt a wave of disgust. But this - this was her reality now.
At one end, there lingered the aftermath of orgasmic waves - sensations unlike anything she had felt before. At the other, a heavy feeling of being used like a cheap object in bed. She couldn’t tell which feeling weighed more.

“Go clean yourself,” Vikram said as he pulled his pants back on.
Anjali wobbled into the washroom, fighting the urge to stand under the shower and let everything wash away. Instead, she picked up the hand-held shower head and rinsed her body. She washed her face too, carefully.
When she re-entered the room, Vikram was seated on the sofa, perfectly dressed. Anjali felt a flash of shyness - she stood naked, like a newborn - but she managed to stay composed.
There was nothing left to hide. All of her had already been laid bare.
She opened her wardrobe, took out some clothes, and quickly got dressed.
“You have such a great body. I’m so lucky,”
Vikram said, stepping up behind her.
She turned to face him.
“You must leave, Vicky,”
She said in a tired voice.
“Of course. I’m leaving,” he replied, placing a quick peck on her cheek.
“Love you. Bye.”
“Bye, Vicky.”
Vikram walked out of the room first, and Anjali followed behind.
And then they stopped - frozen - shocked to find a man sitting silently on the large sofa in the hall.
It was Madhav.

[krish_999]

Dear Krish, I trust you are well.

You had indicated that the update would be provided on 24th March; may I kindly request a status update at your earliest convenience? I remain in eager anticipation of your response.

Yeah, I meant it bro :)
And thanks for the comment. It was equally awaited.