Adultery The Descent of Meera; An Indian House Wife
#29
Chapter 13: Echoes of Lavender

Arjun's words hung in the cool Mahabaleshwar air, heavy with the tension of what he'd described. Meera felt heat ignite low in her stomach, a strong surge that spread downward, turning into a liquid ache between her legs. The way he'd said 'panty' sent fresh tremors through her body. She gasped softly, the sound lost in the wind but loud in her own ears. She wanted to run from this bench, this closeness, this dangerous moment. But his nearness pulled at her, the warmth coming from him, the intensity in his dark eyes holding her there. Her thighs were pressed together, but she could still feel the heat from his leg through their clothes. She felt trapped, exposed not just physically now, but emotionally naked under his raw appreciation. She felt the wetness between her legs, the shame, the sin.

She listened, frozen by shame and thrilling excitement, until Aaryan's call broke through. "Mummy! Look!" 

It was an escape, thin but real. "Excuse me," she stammered, her voice thick. She pulled her leg away from the pressure of his thigh, the movement feeling rough. She stumbled toward her son, her back to Arjun, still feeling his gaze burning into her, tracing the curves he'd just described so personally.

Back in the simple hotel room that evening, changing felt loaded with meaning. Rajiv was showering, Aaryan asleep in the extra bed. Meera peeled off the white leggings, her fingers shaking as they touched the lavender lace panties. Slipping them down, she stopped. The delicate lace wasn't just damp; it was soaked through. A dark patch stained the pale lavender fabric, proof of how powerfully her body had reacted to Arjun's presence, his closeness, his smell, his touch, and finally his explicit words. Shame washed over her, hot and prickling, followed by a deeper, more confusing rush of defiant arousal. She crumpled the underwear into a tight ball, shoving it deep into her suitcase, a guilty secret hidden among folded clothes.

Sleep was a struggle. Lying stiffly beside Rajiv, she replayed the railing scene in slow motion. The lift of her top, the cold air on her stomach, the look on Arjun's face – pure, open admiration. Then turning away, the wind's betrayal, exposing the lavender secret. She felt his gaze on her back again, imagined it tracing the lace pattern, the firm roundness he'd called 'incredibly feminine'. His words echoed: "Every curve. Every dip. Every rise." Fresh heat pulsed low inside her, making her shift restlessly. How could she have stood there? How could her body have betrayed her so completely? The memory of his description – firm, high, round – lit her up again, a slow burn of forbidden pleasure mixed with guilt. Her skin felt oversensitive against the sheets.

Morning brought a jarring message:

Arjun (8:02 AM): Good morning Meera. Hope you had a good sleep. Our senior colleague, that Mr. Sharma, you know him right? he had a bad night, high fever. I need to stay back and maybe after he is recovered will go home separately. Feel so sorry to miss the ride back with... all of you....

Disappointment, sharp and unexpected, stabbed Meera's chest. Missing the ride, or is he missing me? The thought startled her. She typed back, forcing normal words:

Meera (8:05 AM): Good morning. Oh no, I hope he feels better soon. Safe travels to you both.

The journey home felt long and empty. Wearing a soft peach cotton salwar kameez, Aaryan drowsing on her lap by the window, Meera's mind kept going back to the valley railing. She remembered the feel of the wind, the terrifying exposure, but most clearly, the knowledge of Arjun's gaze. How her most private place, hugged first by the white leggings, then by the lavender panty itself, had been seen, admired, desired by him. How her curves, her thickness, the very roundness he'd described with such hunger, had been laid bare for him. A shiver ran through her, unrelated to the bus's air conditioning. Something important had changed.

Home felt strangely quiet. The next day, while unpacking, the ordinary chore felt unreal. She sorted clothes for the washing machine. Then her fingers brushed against the crumpled lavender panty. Hesitantly, she unfolded it. The fabric, now dry, was stiff exactly where her wetness had been – a physical record of the intense arousal she'd felt, the emotions stirred by Arjun's presence and his devastating look. It held the silent, private memory of her body's undeniable response to him, her own dried stain. A flush crept up her neck as she stared at it. She held it up, the delicate lace stretched between her fingers. The stiffness in the crotch area felt like a secret map of her excitement. The dried secretion of herself on the thin material of her panty, Her own scent. The echo of that liquid ache stirred faintly inside her, a low pulse starting between her legs. She dropped it quickly into the machine, feeling like she was hiding evidence, yet knowing the memory was burned into her mind.

Arjun (10:15 AM): Good Morning Meera. Sharma ji abhi almost teek hoo gaya, He is resting now. Just got him some soup.

Meera (10:17 AM): Ohhh Good to hear his fever is down.

Arjun (1:30 PM): Managed to get him to eat a little. Abhi whoo soo raha hee. Leekin ehaan pe bilkul boring jaisa hoo haya banana!

Meera (1:32 PM): That's good, let him take a rest. You also take care. Don't tire yourself. (A subtle worry, carefully hidden in plain words).

Arjun (3:45 PM): Just now booked a cab for tomorrow morning. Its a long and boring drive. Heeii but how was your journey back? Poochna bhool hee gaya.

Meera (3:48 PM): Journey tho teek tha.... Aaryan slept most of the way. Have a safe drive tomorrow.
Time passed. He had seen her message. But why no reply? Maybe he got busy with his senior. But why am I so bothered? The phone's silence made Meera's thoughts race. She initiated this time, the concern real, mixed with her own need for connection.

Meera (5:02 PM): How is he now? Hope he is feeling better.

Arjun (5:05 PM): Still sleeping. Pulse is better. Thanks for asking, Meera.

Arjun (9:30 PM): Bus abhi thooda time mila. It was a long day.
Late that night, while Rajiv and Aaryan breathed evenly beside her, the phone glowed again.

Arjun (11:47 PM): Can't sleep. Neend nahi aa raha. and you?

Meera's heart pounded. The darkness and her sleeping family made this feel even more forbidden.

Meera (11:49 PM): About to sleep. You should rest, Arjun. Big drive tomorrow.

Arjun (11:51 PM): Rest? Patha nahee.... Every time I close my eyes... that... something flashes in my mind...

Meera gasped silently. He went there, back to where she stood exposed to his gaze. She felt his closed eyes seeing her in that vulnerable position. Heat flared instantly between her legs, a sudden rush of wetness soaking the cotton of her plain white panties. Her thighs clenched together instinctively, the pressure sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through her sensitive flesh. She tried to push the feeling away, her fingers clumsy on the screen:

Arjun (11:52 PM): Those lavender... its lushness...

Meera (11:53 PM): Arjun, please. That was... the wind. An accident. Forget it.

Arjun (11:55 PM): Forget? Meera, that image... it's burned in. The lace against your skin... the way it hugged...
He didn't finish, didn't need to. The meaning was clear, sexual. The way it hugged her curves.

Meera (11:56 PM): No Please, forget that.

But her body betrayed the words. As she read his message, another warm gush of wetness spread between her thighs, making the cotton panties cling wet to her swollen lips. The silky nightdress suddenly felt rough against her oversensitive skin, especially where it rubbed her hard nipples. Her free hand moved from under the covers without her willing it. Fingertips skimmed lightly over her collarbone, then traced the neckline of her nightdress. The touch sent sparks straight to the heat Arjun's words had lit. Her fingers drifted lower, brushing over the thin silk covering her breast. She felt the nipple tighten painfully under the fabric. A soft moan escaped her lips as she pressed her palm against the curve, feeling the weight, the heat, the ache. Her other hand slid down her stomach, fingers slipping just beneath the waistband of her soft cotton peach color plain panties. Her finger paused for a moment, the fingertips feeling her sensitive skin. Her legs involuntarily shivered when her finger tips rubbed the stubble pubic hair. Her grazing of her fingers over the skin made her sensitive, slightly turning her head and closing her eyes. Meera lowered her fingers, sensually tracing the outer lips of her most kept secret part. She felt her finger tips moist with the slicks of forbidden ecstasy. Her head thrown up in the sensation with a small gasp escaping her lips, low enough not to wake her sleeping husband nearby. She traced the outer lips, then gently dipped a fingertip into the wet warmth. Her hips lifted slightly off the mattress, seeking more pressure. It was a sinful echo of the lavender memory, driven by the relentless words of Arjun. The bed sheets rustling softly. Her breath came in fast, shallow pants, her chest rising and falling rapidly. In spite of the cool air from the AC in her bedroom sweat beaded on her upper lip and between her breasts.

Arjun (11:58 PM): Can't help it, Meera. That colour... on you... in that moment... It was unforgettable. Makes this quiet night... very loud in my head.

Meera didn't reply.  Words were impossible. Her body spoke louder. Her thighs pressed tightly together, trapping her hand, the heel of her palm grinding against her clit through the wet cotton. Her right hand kneaded her breast, pinching the hard nipple through the silk, sending sharp pulses of pleasure down. Her finger slid slowly further inside her wet heat, curling upwards, finding that spongy spot deep inside that made her back arch. A choked whimper escaped her bitten lips as her finger moved in slowly.  The darkness held her secret, the phone screen lighting only her flushed, conflicted face, while deep inside, a storm raged – guilt, fear, and a terrifying, unstoppable wave of pure and desperate wanting, all focused on the memory of the lavender lace panty and Arjun's burning eyes. The guilt overcame her urge, she withdrew her fingers, she felt her core undeniably wanted, but the silent snores of her sleeping husband made her stretch her legs and arms to withdraw the primal erotic feeling that surged inside her. She fell on her stomach with face buried in the softness of the pillow, silently and deliberately pushed herself to sleep.
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The Descent of Meera; An Indian House Wife - by subtle - 07-08-2025, 11:09 PM



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