Adultery The Language of Her Heart

[yazhiniram]

The milk had just settled into the coffee. The foam rose soft.
Pavitra wiped the side of the dabara set with the towel and placed all three cups on the tray.
“Strong but not bitter,” she murmured.
Radhika nodded. “He likes it that way. I’ll take the cups. You bring the spoons.”
But Pavitra picked up the tray before she could.
“I’ll go. You relax for once,” she said with a smile.
Radhika followed her to the doorway.
Just as Pavitra stepped out—
Radhika blinked. “Aiyyo! Sugar! I forgot completely!”
She turned back toward the kitchen.

---

Pavitra walked out into the hall.
The evening sun had faded now. Tube light buzzed. TV volume is low. Boys arguing over a pencil sharpener.
Ram looked up as she entered. Eyes steady. One leg crossed over the other.
She walked straight to him.
Bend.
Tray forward.
Cup lifted.
Offered.
But—
He didn’t touch the cup.
He touched her hand.
Fingers curled around her palm.
Warm. Firm. Present.
Not tight.
But not letting go.

---

Her Mind:
Fuck.
His hand is holding mine.
Not the cup.
Me.
His thumb rested near the inside of her wrist.
Pulse.
He felt it.
She stared at him.
Face calm. Heart screaming.
She didn’t flinch.
Didn’t pull away.
Just tilted her head slightly—chin toward the kitchen.
Your wife’s coming, idiot.
Ram didn’t move.
Didn’t smile.
But his thumb… made one small circle over her wrist bone.
Her inner thighs pulsed.
A soft wetness bloomed.
She swallowed once.
Held her breath.
And then—
Footsteps.
Radhika.

---

Ram let go.
Took the cup from her hand like it was nothing.
“Thanks,” he said, eyes already on the coffee.
Pavitra turned and walked back slowly.

---

Her Mind:
He held my hand.
Not in secret.
Not in panic.
But like it was his.
And me?
I didn’t stop him.
Just warned him that time was short.

---

Radhika handed her the sugar tin with a grin. “I always forget something. I’m hopeless.”
Pavitra smiled.
But her hand?
Still warm.
Still tingling.
Still remembering the shape of his fingers.
And her pussy?
Wet.
Not because of what happened.
But because of what almost did.

---

The last sips had gone quiet.
Only the fan moved now, whispering in soft beats above them.
Radhika stood up first, adjusting her kurti.
“Okay, done pa. Let’s go. Your husband might come home and chase us out.”
Pavitra laughed gently. “Let him. I’ll tell him the filter coffee was better than his mood.”
Ram smiled faintly. “I’ll second that.”
Pavitra picked up the tray. One hand steady under it.
Radhika walked toward the door, still talking about weekend plans.
Ram stood up behind her, phone sliding into his pocket.
As he stepped past Pavitra—
His hand brushed her ass.
Light.
Soft.
Not too firm.
But not too far either.

---

Her Mind:
Wait.
Did that just—
Yes.
That was not the tray.
Not the sofa.
That was his fucking palm on my backside.
Was it an accident?
Maybe.
But the way it lingered for that half-second?
That was not innocent.

---

She didn’t move.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t turn.
She stood like nothing happened.
But inside her body?
A silent explosion.
Her thighs pressed together.
Her pussy throbbed once.
Hard.

---

Ram kept walking.
Didn’t look back.
Didn’t speak.
Radhika was already near the lift, calling him.
He joined her.
She turned once. “Thanks for the coffee, Pavi!”
Pavitra smiled. “Come anytime.”
She stood there.
Tray in hand.
Ass is still buzzing from his skin.

---

Her Mind – Me:
That palm knew where it touched.
And it didn’t say sorry.
I didn’t want sorry.
I wanted more.
And now…
So does my pussy.

---

The door clicked shut.
She walked to the sink.
Wash one tumbler.
Then leaned both hands against the steel slab.
The tray clattered softly behind her.
But inside her panties…
a slow, warm wetness spread.
And it had nothing to do with coffee.