Adultery The Language of Her Heart

[yazhiniram]

We both walked slowly towards the apartment gate.

Anusha was beside me.

She was holding her small handbag and adjusting her green chudi pant now and then.

Her thin dupatta was moving lightly in the evening wind.

I adjusted my orange saree pallu properly on my chest.

The cotton saree was soft and was brushing against my waist when I walked.

The evening sun was golden.

The road ahead looked soft and sleepy.

Some people were walking.

Some children were playing near the gate.

I held my bag carefully and smiled once at Anusha.

She smiled back, looking fresh and happy.


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As we came near the gate, my eyes moved once —

slowly and quietly —

toward the security cabin.

There, sitting lazily, was Prakash.

He was bending down, looking into his mobile.

His legs were stretched out.

I saw him.

But I didn’t change my face.

I didn’t want Anusha to notice anything.

We kept walking slowly.

When we reached closer,

Prakash lifted his head suddenly.

His eyes caught me immediately.

The moment he saw me,

his face brightened.

His sleepy look disappeared.

A big happy light came to his eyes.

He was about to smile.

But before he could open his mouth or do anything,

I gave him a sharp look.

Just my eyes spoke.

Telling him:

"Behave. I am not alone."

He understood quickly.

He blinked.

Then looked at Anusha beside me.

His face changed fast.

He sat straight and started looking at his mobile again,

pretending like nothing happened.

I didn’t show anything on my face.

I kept walking normally.

We crossed the gate together and stepped out into the street.


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Outside, the street was full of life.

Small children were running here and there.

Families were carrying flower baskets.

Vendors were shouting for peanuts, bajji, and sugarcane juice.

The smell of burning agarbathi and hot samosas floated everywhere.

The sky was becoming orange and pink slowly.

The temple bells were ringing softly, far away.

The evening felt busy but happy.


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We reached near the temple steps.

There was a small stand for keeping sandals.

We both bent down, removed our slippers,

and placed them neatly in the rack.

We gave one coin to the old man sitting there.

The stone floor was cool under my bare feet.

It felt nice after walking on the hot ground.

Anusha smiled.

"So nice, right, Pavi?" she said, adjusting her dupatta.

I nodded and smiled.

We walked ahead and stopped at a flower seller.

We bought two small jasmine garlands and two coconuts for offering.

The flowers smelled sweet and fresh.

The jasmine smell touched my nose softly.

I tied my flower garland neatly with my bag strap.

Anusha held her coconut and flowers carefully in her hands.

Her dupatta kept falling down her shoulder, and she kept adjusting it shyly.

She looked simple and sweet like a small girl.


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We entered the temple through the side gate.

The moment we stepped inside,

I could feel the crowd.

There were so many people inside.

Old ladies, young men, mothers carrying babies, small children pulling their fathers’ hands.

Everyone was moving slowly, patiently, toward the main mandapam.

The smell of oil lamps, fresh flowers, and temple camphor filled the whole place.

The soft sound of "Om Shakti Om Shakti" was coming from the speakers.

The big temple bells were ringing loudly every few minutes.

The vibration from the bells touched the ground and came up to my feet.

It made my body feel small goosebumps.

I looked around.

Normally this temple would be calm,

easy to walk, easy to see the deity.

But today, it was full.

A long line was moving like a snake, winding between the stone pillars.

Everyone was holding flower plates, coconut, and camphor packets.

Anusha looked at me and said softly:

"Today is Amavasai also, and Friday too, Pavi."

I nodded.

That is why so many people had come.

No moon day and Friday together made it very special.

Everyone wanted to pray.


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We adjusted the coconut and flowers in our hands.

Slowly joined the big line.

The floor was cool under my bare feet.

The cotton saree brushed softly against my ankles when I moved.

The smell of jasmine floated softly between us.

We stood side by side.

The line was moving slowly, step by step.

I looked at Anusha.

She was smiling softly, looking around at the temple walls, the old paintings, the lamps.

We started talking casually.

Small talks.

Soft smiles.

The temple bells, the smell of incense, the sound of chanting —

everything made my heart feel clean and peaceful.

It felt like standing inside a big slow dream made of prayers.


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The line inside the temple was not very long,

but it was full of people.

There was no space to move properly.

Everyone was standing very close to each other.

Nobody had patience.

Nobody was keeping distance.

Men, women, old people, young people —

all pressing and pushing slowly.

I adjusted my coconut and flowers carefully in my hand.

Anusha stood just behind me, holding her flowers neatly.

Her soft green chudi brushed lightly against my saree when she moved.


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In front of me, an old thatha was standing.

Thin body, wearing simple white dhoti and shirt.

He was also adjusting his coconut plate now and then.

Behind Anusha, one aunty was standing.

She was talking loudly and pushing slightly with her hip.

Because of that, Anusha was getting pushed forward.

And her body was pressing against my back softly.

I adjusted my saree pallu once more.

Held my flowers carefully on one side.

The air was hot inside.

The smell of sweat, camphor, and oil lamps floated together.


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The line moved one step.

I moved also.

But the pushing from behind increased.

Anusha’s soft body pressed fully onto my back.

My front also pressed onto thatha’s back directly.

I didn’t want to drop the flowers.

So I lifted my hand slightly,

holding the flowers high outside.

Now my chest was pressing directly onto the old thatha’s back —

my soft breasts flattened against his shirt.

I felt my body becoming hot.

From behind, I could feel Anusha’s soft boobs touching my back.

Her hips pressing against my bottom.

The sweat from both our bodies was mixing slowly.

The cotton saree and her soft chudi were sticking to the skin.


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I turned my head slightly.

Whispered softly to Anusha:

"Hold my waist. so you can properly follow me and, other people doesn't get in between us"

She looked for one second.

Then she nodded quickly.

Her small hand came around my waist.

Slid under the loose pallu of my saree.

Touched my bare waist directly.

Her fingers were warm and little sweaty.

Her palm pressed softly on my side.

A small shiver passed through my body.

I adjusted my flowers again.

Moved one more small step forward.


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Now Anusha was hugging me lightly from behind —

one hand holding my waist.

Her other hand carefully holding her flower garland.

I could feel her chest pressing against my upper back softly.

Her hips touching my backside gently but fully.

The line moved very slowly.

Step by step.

Each time, our bodies brushed and pressed more.

The soft sweaty cotton smell from her chudi mixed with the sweet smell of jasmine flowers.

My heart was beating slowly but heavily.

I felt heat building inside.

My front side —

my soft breasts pressed tightly against the old thatha’s back.

My backside —

Anusha’s young soft body wrapped warmly against me.

Her palm rested steadily on my waist, squeezing slightly whenever the line shook.

The cotton saree was thin.

Her hand was touching my bare skin fully.

Her fingers were small, soft, and slightly trembling.

I breathed slowly, trying to stay calm.

But inside,

a small naughty current started moving.

My nipples brushed softly against the thatha’s thin shirt when the line moved forward.

My back side felt the slow gentle pressure of Anusha’s breasts sliding against my shoulder blades.

My bottom felt Anusha’s hips pressing warmly, softly.


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The line moved again.

We moved too.

Sweat slid slowly down my back.

I felt Anusha’s hand adjust slightly, gripping my waist more tightly to balance.

Her fingers pressed into my soft waist flesh.

My saree pleats brushed lightly against my thighs when I shifted.

I swallowed once.

The temple chants floated in the background.

The oil lamp lights flickered.

The heavy slow air hugged all our bodies together.


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My arousal slowly built inside —

like a small shy fire hiding behind prayer smoke.

I stood quietly.

Breathing.

Feeling.

Burning softly between front and back.


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Anusha was holding me tightly around my waist.

Her palm was warm and soft against my bare skin under the saree.

The line was moving very slowly.

The smell of sweat, flowers, and oil lamps was thick in the air.

The stone floor under my feet felt cool.

But my body was becoming hotter and stickier every minute.

In front of me, the old thatha was still standing, shifting slowly forward.

Behind Anusha, the aunty was pushing again and again.


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Suddenly, the aunty pushed harder.

Anusha's small body shook behind me.

Because she was already holding my waist tightly,

her grip slipped slightly during the shake.

Her hand moved lower by mistake.

It slipped down under the loose part of my saree —

near where I had tucked it into my petticoat.

I felt a small jerk inside my body.

A soft shock.

Anusha's hand had slipped very close to my public hair area.


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Anusha realised it quickly.

I could feel her body becoming stiff behind me.

She tried to pull her hand back carefully.

But before she could take it out properly,

another sudden push came from behind.

The aunty bumped hard.

In that second, Anusha’s hand slipped deeper.

Her hand went inside my petticoat.

Her fingers touched the top layer of my panty.

And brushed softly over the outer lips of my pussy.


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A strong shock passed through my whole body.

I gasped softly, but kept my mouth closed.

My breasts crushed harder against thatha’s back because of the push.

Anusha also jerked back lightly, realising what had happened.

She quickly removed her hand carefully from inside my saree.

Her fingers came back up —

and rested softly near my navel, above the petticoat.


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My heart was beating fast.

My body was sweating more now.

My petticoat had become little loose around my waist because of all this.

I could feel it sliding slightly lower.

But it was not falling — just loose, sitting on my hips.

I adjusted my flowers carefully in my hands, pretending normal.

Anusha was breathing slowly behind me.

Her body was still pressed to mine softly.

Her soft boobs brushing my upper back.

Her hips pressing my backside lightly.

Her hand stayed resting on my stomach, not moving anymore.


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The line moved again.

Slowly, slowly, we reached inside the god room — the garbhagudi.

The crowd became lesser.

People were standing little apart now.

There was more space to breathe.

Anusha removed her hand carefully from my waist.

She stood properly, holding her flowers neatly again.

I let out a soft breath.

Relaxed my shoulders.

The cool air from inside the garbhagudi touched my sweaty skin softly.


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We moved forward.

Folded our hands.

Prayed silently.

The oil lamps were burning bright.

The priest was giving blessings loudly.

I closed my eyes for a second.

Asked the goddess for peace.

Asked for strength.

Asked for forgiveness.

I opened my eyes.

Anusha was standing next to me, head bowed, eyes closed, looking peaceful.


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We finished our prayer quietly.

Walked out slowly from the inner sanctum.

The crowd outside was still there,

but now it felt lighter after praying.

We smiled at each other casually.

"Too much crowd today, no?" Anusha said, adjusting her dupatta.

I nodded, smiling.

"Yes... full pushing and sweating," I said softly, wiping my forehead once.

We laughed lightly, both feeling little tired but happy.


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There was another small queue nearby — for prasadam.

We looked at each other.

Both smiling.

We started walking slowly toward the prasadam counter.

Our bodies still tired,

but our hearts light like temple bells swinging in soft wind.


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We walked slowly toward the prasadam queue.

The stone floor under my feet felt cool and rough.

The smell of camphor, jasmine flowers, and hot oil floated lazily in the temple air.

My saree was feeling loose at the waist.

I adjusted it carefully with my left hand, pulling the pleats back into place.

The cotton was sticking lightly to my stomach because of the sweat.

I tucked it in tightly, but I could feel it.

The petticoat inside had become loose.

It was slipping lower on my hips.

The knot must have loosened when Anusha’s hand had pressed during the push inside the crowd.

I sighed softly inside.

There was no way to tie it properly now.

I just pulled my saree tightly over it and walked normally.


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As we waited quietly in the prasadam queue,

Anusha glanced sideways at me.

Her face was a little red.

She bent her head down shyly, then looked up again.

Her voice was soft and guilty when she spoke:

"Sorry, Pavi... it's because of me na... your saree became loose."

Her words were simple, but full of feeling.

I turned my head slightly and smiled warmly at her.

Her small ponytail was swinging softly behind her shoulder.

Her cheeks were pink.

Her dupatta was slipping down one side again.

I smiled more and said gently:

"No worry, Anusha. It’s not your mistake.

Crowd was too much.

Anything can happen in that pushing."

She looked relieved.

Her shoulders relaxed slightly.

A small soft smile appeared again on her lips.


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The prasadam line was calm.

No pushing now.

Just slow quiet waiting.

The soft chanting of mantras floated in the air from the loudspeakers.

A small breeze moved through the temple corridor, lifting the edge of my pallu.

I adjusted it properly across my chest.

The cotton brushing against my damp skin sent tiny shivers across my waist.

Within three minutes,

we reached the prasadam counter.

The old priest sitting there smiled with kind eyes.

He placed pongal and sundal carefully on two small banana leaves.

The pongal was steaming hot, golden with ghee smell.

The sundal was soft white with mustard seeds.

We took it carefully in our hands.

The heat from the food touched my palms warmly.


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We looked around for a place to sit.

Near a big stone pillar, there was a small shadowed corner.

Cool and slightly hidden from the main crowd.

We walked slowly there.

Our bare feet touching the rough floor stones lightly.

We sat down together, side by side.

The stone was cool under my thighs and hips.

It felt nice after all the sweating.

I pulled my saree nicely over my knees.

Adjusted the pleats.

Anusha sat close enough that her shoulder lightly brushed mine now and then.


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We opened the banana leaves carefully.

Placed them flat on the floor.

The pongal smell mixed with the jasmine flowers tied on my bag.

The air was warm, thick, slow.

We started eating with our fingers.

Breaking small bits of pongal, mixing little sundal, eating slowly.

The sweet ghee pongal melted on my tongue.

The salty sundal balanced it perfectly.

Both of us were silent for some time, enjoying the food.

Our arms brushed lightly sometimes while reaching for food.

The cotton of my saree and the soft chudi sleeve of her dress touched naturally, casually.

No hurry.

No tension.

Just slow, clean eating.


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After few minutes,

Anusha broke the silence.

She spoke very softly, almost like she was scared to say:

"Pavi... your waist is so soft."

I stopped for a second.

A small smile climbed on my lips.

I wiped my fingers slowly on the corner of my saree and turned to look at her.

"Is it?" I asked, smiling lightly.

My voice was casual, teasing.

But inside, something small and curious moved in my chest.

Anusha nodded shyly.

She looked down once at the banana leaf,

then up again into my eyes.

Her voice was even softer now:

"Hmm...

When I was holding you...

your waist felt so soft...

I didn’t want to remove my hand actually..."

she said, laughing a small guilty laugh.

"But...

I thought maybe you will get angry on me.

So I pulled it back fast."


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I laughed lightly.

The sound bounced softly against the stone pillar.

My heart felt warm.

"Why da..." I said playfully, wiping my fingers again.

"You can touch now also if you want.

You are like my sister."

I said it casually, smiling.

But my own words made a small heat rise inside my chest.

Anusha’s eyes widened slightly.

She gave a small laugh.

But she looked nervous.

She looked at my waist,

then at my face again,

checking if I was serious.

I smiled more and nodded lightly.

Giving silent permission.


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Slowly,

shyly,

she lifted her right hand.

Her fingers came forward carefully.

I turned slightly to help her.

Lifted my loose pallu with my left hand slightly.

Exposed my bare waist.

The cotton petticoat was sitting low on my hips.

My skin was slightly sweaty but warm.

Her hand touched my waist softly.

Her fingers pressed into the soft flesh gently.

The warmth of her palm spread across my side.


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The touch was simple.

But inside me,

it felt like hundred small electric butterflies exploded.

A slow sweet shock passed through my skin,

through my belly,

through my thighs.

My mouth opened slightly, but no words came.

Our eyes locked.

Both our eyes widened —

full of small soft shock.

But we said nothing.

The temple bells rang loudly somewhere far away.

The mantras floated lazily in the air.

But between us —

only silence lived now.

Heavy.

Sweet.

Floating.


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Anusha's fingers rested there for few seconds.

Then she pulled her hand back slowly, carefully.

Placed it back on her lap.

I looked away softly.

My waist was still tingling where she had touched.

The stone floor felt colder suddenly against my hips.

The air felt thicker around my skin.

I adjusted my saree properly over my waist again,

covering the skin softly.


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We continued eating prasadam silently.

No words.

Only the sound of slow chewing,

slow heartbeats,

and slow breathing.

Our eyes met once again —

soft, wide, shining.

But we looked away quickly.

Pretending normal.

Acting casual.

But inside?

Inside both our bodies,

something small and new had started to grow.


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