Adultery The Language of Her Heart

[yazhiniram]

He didn’t stop.

Not even a little.

Not for breath.

Not for balance.

Not for me.


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Same rhythm.

Same speed.

Same weight.

Fast.

Heavy.


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Just full-bodied fucking.

Ten minutes.

Straight.

No words.

Just movement.


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His hips—

They slammed into me.

Again.

Again.

Again.


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Flesh hitting flesh.

Over and over.

Loud.

Wet.

Unstoppable.


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Slap.

Slap.

Slap.

That sound—

It filled the room.


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Like wet cloth.

Slapping stone.

Laundry on rocks.

Loud.

Clear.


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The bed—

It groaned.

Sharp metal creaks.

Under us.

Beneath every thrust.


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My breasts—

They bounced.

In my blouse.

Pressed against his chest.

Sweating.


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Jiggling.

Trapped.

Hot.

Moving with him.

Rubbed every time.


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And then—

I felt it.

Something shifting.

In my body.

In my stomach.


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A build-up.

Real.

Raw.

No slow tease.

Just rise.


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A pressure.

Climbing.

Inside me.

No soft warning.

Just sudden.


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My back arched.

Toes curled.

My thighs shook.

Fingers clawed the sheet.

Tearing it.


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I held on.

Breath caught.

Heart wild.

I was right there.

So close.


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It was coming.

A wave.

Huge.

Inside me.

Building.


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And he—

Somehow—

He knew.

He felt it.

In my legs.


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In my thighs.

Tensing.

He responded.

Not with words.

With fucking.


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Harder.

Faster.

Deeper.

Full body.

Cock driving.


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He slammed in.

Like he belonged.

Inside me.

Like he was made for it.

Claimed.


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I opened my mouth.

And the sound—

It came out.

Loud.

Helpless.


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“AAAhhh—”

My moan.

Not girlish.

Not gentle.

Guttural.


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It ripped through my throat.

Out of me.

Another thrust.

Another cry.

“Aaaaahh—nggh—ahhh—!”


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Shameless.

Loud.

Echoing.

I didn’t recognise it.

My own voice.


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Oh god—

Could someone hear?

Could it travel?

Through the door?

Into the hall?


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They’d hear.

They’d know.

Someone was fucking me.

Right now.

Right here.


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And it wasn’t love.

It wasn’t romance.

It was raw.

Bare.

Hard.


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It was Prakash.

Security.

Fucking me.

Like a bull.

Unstoppable.


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Sweat dripped.

From him.

Onto my chest.

Hot beads.

Sliding.


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His cock—

Thick.

Hot.

Full of veins.

Still pulsing inside.


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And I—

I was moaning.

Louder.

Freer.

Because—


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I was about to cum.

Truly.

Fully.

It was rising.

Right now.


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No control.

No shame.

Just rush.

Legs shaking.

Eyes fluttering.


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Fingers twisted.

Into claws.

Sheet tight.

Moans broken.

Whimpering.


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Then it hit.

No waiting.

No warning.

A flood.

From inside.


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My pussy clenched.

Like a fist.

Tight.

Squeezing him.

Sucking.


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The orgasm—

It exploded.

In my stomach.

My spine.

My scalp.


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All over me.

Through me.

I screamed.

Not just moaned.

Screamed.


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“AAAHHH—aaaaaahh—noooooo—aaaaahhh!”

It filled the room.

My house.

Maybe outside.

I didn’t care.


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And he—

Didn’t stop.

Didn’t slow.

He kept fucking.

Through it.


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His cock—

Kept going.

In and out.

Ripping through my orgasm.

Dragging it longer.


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I twisted.

I gasped.

My voice cracked.

I felt faint.

Still moaning.


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“Ahhh—nghh—stop—stop—enough—!”

I said it.

I begged.

Words choked.

From pleasure.


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“Enough… please…”

But he didn’t.

He kept going.

One more minute.

Then two.


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Full speed.

No mercy.

No pause.

Just thrusts.

Just heat.


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My pussy—

Still twitching.

Still clenching.

Leaking.

Sore.


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Overstimulated.

But he fucked through it.

Riding it.

Owning it.

And then—


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His grip tightened.

Thighs locked.

One last thrust.

Hard.

Deep.


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Then—

Heat.

Inside.

A sudden rush.

Thick.


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Hot.

Wet.

Filling me.

So deep.

Everywhere.


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He came.

Fully.

No condom.

No hesitation.

Just release.


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Raw.

Messy.

Flooding me.

Inside.

Buried.


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Inside my pussy.

Still twitching.

Still soaked.

Still his.

Still mine.


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His cock—

It was still inside.

Still thick.

Still hot.

Still there.


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Fully released.

But not gone.

Still buried.

Still lodged.

Like a plug.


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I could feel it.

The shape.

The length.

The weight of it.

Changing.


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Softening.

Slowly.

Losing its edge.

But still full.

Still filling me.


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And his cum—

God.

It was inside.

Heavy.

Hot.


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So much.

More than I expected.

More than I could hold.

Already leaking.

Already seeping.


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Around him.

Around his cock.

Sliding deeper.

Pooling somewhere.

Deep inside me.


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Then—

He collapsed.

Without warning.

Without words.

Just dropped.


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Straight down.

Full body.

On top of me.

Heavy.

Wet.


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No gentleness.

No caress.

No pose.

Just weight.

Like a sack.


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A sack of bricks.

Slamming down.

Flat.

Unapologetic.

Real.


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“Uhhh…”

It came out of me.

Not from pain.

From breath.

Being pushed out.


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His chest hit mine.

Boobs flattened.

Pressed sideways.

Squeezed.

Sweating.


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His cheek—

It pressed my face.

Skin to skin.

Stubbled.

Sticky.


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His thigh slid between mine.

His stomach touched mine.

So warm.

So damp.

Sweat sticking to my blouse.


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I blinked.

Staring up.

Ceiling above.

Still.

My chest rising in pulses.


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I couldn’t move.

Truly.

My arms were loose.

My legs still parted.

My whole body—stilled.


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Each breath I tried—

His chest pressed back.

Kept me down.

Held me.

Softly.


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My arms were pinned.

Not tight.

But not free.

Under his weight.

Caught.


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My mouth—

Still open.

Not for words.

Just for air.

Panting.


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He didn’t say anything.

Not even breath.

Just loud exhale.

From his nose.

From his throat.


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His cock—

Still inside.

Still twitching.

One tiny pulse.

Then still.


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Then finally—

He moved.

A roll.

Shifted sideways.

Off me.


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His cock—

It slid out.

Fast.

Slippery.

“Plup.”


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That sound again.

That wet pop.

And my body flinched.

Naturally.

From the sudden exit.


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Warm cum—

Spilled out.

Right after.

Onto the bed.

Onto the sheet.


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I didn’t move.

Just lay there.

Arms loose.

Legs sticky.

Blouse rumpled.


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Then—

He opened his hand.

Wide.

Palm flat.

Right near his head.


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I blinked.

Looking at it.

Not knowing.

Just waiting.

Breathing.


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Then slowly…

I turned.

Turned my head.

And rested it.

Right there.


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On his hand.

On that palm.

Soft.

Warm.

Rough at the edges.


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But familiar.

Now.

Known.

Safe.

Almost.


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My cheek pressed it.

My face turned.

Toward his chest.

His breath.

His skin.


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And we lay like that.

Still.

Facing each other.

Not touching more.

Just eyes.


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Breathing.

Together.

Silent.

Soft.

Stunned.


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I looked.

At him.

He looked.

At me.

And something…


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Something flickered.

In my chest.

Not love.

Not hate.

Not shame.


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Just something.

Soft.

Still.

Human.

Raw.


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I stayed.

Panting.

Leaking.

Sore.

Open.


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He looked into my eyes.

Long.

Without blinking.

Until—

Something changed.


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His face twitched.

A blink.

A jaw shift.

Breath held.

Like a thought struck.


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I saw it.

Clearly.

In his whole body.

A stiffness.

Like remembering.


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Where he was.

Who he was.

Who I was.

Then—

He sat up.


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Fast.

No stretch.

No breath.

Just motion.

Up.


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And stood.

Beside the bed.

Naked.

Still sweating.

Still dripping.


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His cock—

Soft now.

Hanging.

Wet.

Glistening.


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He didn’t look at it.

He looked at me.

Then—

He spoke.

One word.


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“Madam.”

A whisper.

A title.

Not lover.

Not equal.


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Like a servant.

Like before.

Like nothing happened.

I blinked.

Still lying there.


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Cum still dripping.

Face turned.

Eyes on him.

He called me Madam?

Now?


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After all this?

I looked.

Directly.

My eyes narrowed.

Just slightly.


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What now?

Like that.


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I blinked again.

Once.

Then twice.

My lashes stuck a little.

Still damp.


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Still flat.

On the bed.

On the wet bedsheet.

My back soaking it in.

My skin sticky against the cloth.


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My breath—

It hadn’t slowed.

Still fast.

Not panicked.

Just tired.


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My thighs—

Sticky.

From outside.

From between.

Everything stuck together.


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The sheet under me—

Wet.

Damp in patches.

From what?

I didn’t even want to list it.


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Sweat.

Spit.

Cum.

More.

All soaked in.


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And he—

Prakash.

Still standing.

Right there.

Next to the bed.


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Naked.

Completely.

His skin glistening.

Chest shiny.

Still breathing hard.


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He was looking down.

At me.

Silent.

Expression unreadable.

Just looking.


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Then I said it.

One sentence.

Soft.

No edge.

Just tired.


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“What now, Prakash?”

I didn’t raise my voice.

Didn’t add drama.

Just spoke.

Flat.


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He blinked.

Once.

Then looked away.

His lips moved.

Tongue wetting them.


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Then he bent.

Slightly.

Hands together.

In front.

Like a collegeboy.


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“Sorry, madam…”

His voice.

So small now.

So soft.

Almost unsure.


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As if—

Nothing had happened.

As if—

He hadn’t just…

Done all that.


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As if his cock—

Hadn’t just destroyed my insides.

Twenty minutes.

No protection.

No pause.


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Now his voice—

Was like a whisper.

A child explaining.

After being caught.

Not a man who just…


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He kept speaking.

“Because… you said it that time, madam.”

His words stammered.

“Show me guts.”


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I stared.

Blank.

No frown.

No lift of eyebrow.

Just… staring.


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Still lying down.

Leg bent halfway.

One boob slipping out of my blouse.

Hair stuck to my cheek.

Like nethili fish.


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He didn’t look at my face.

Not even at my chest.

He looked lower.

Eyes somewhere near my feet.

Guilty.


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“You kept saying it,” he said.

“Again and again.”

“I couldn’t control myself.”

“Sorry… if I overboarded again.”


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Overboarded?

My mind repeated the word.

Overboarded?

Really?

Now?


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This man—

He had thrown me down.

Ripped half my saree.

Left scratches on my back.

Fucked my mouth till I drooled.


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Came inside me.

Without asking.

Without care.

And now—

He was standing like student caught cheating in exam.


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This same man.

Who was grinding into me.

Like a damn road roller.

Five minutes ago.

Now bowing.


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I didn’t move.

Didn’t sit up.

Just lay there.

Sprawled.

Like thrown laundry.


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My mouth twitched.

Not a smile.

Not a smirk.

Just that thing—

That tired twitch.


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When the brain—

Gives up.

When humour comes in sideways.

Because nothing else fits.

That twitch.


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This man.

He acted like full man.

Grunting.

Dominating.

Holding me down.


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Tearing my clothes.

Scratches still stung.

I had—

Licked his balls.

Sucked his cock.


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Taken his full load.

Inside me.

Every drop.

Every twitch.

Everything.


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And now—

He was saying I provoked him.

“You provoked me.”

Like I caused it.

Like I asked.


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Technically—

Yes.

I said it.

Show me guts.

But…


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It was a joke.

A line.

Flirting.

Playful.

Nothing real.


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Who knew—

His guts were twelve inches long.

Curved.

Like cobra.

And just as deadly.


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I kept staring.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t speak.

Just breathed.

Shallow.


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My throat—

Dry.

Scratchy.

Chest still rising.

Still tired.


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I didn’t know what to feel.

Not anger.

Not laughter.

Not affection.

Nothing clear.


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And I didn’t know what to reply.


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He was still there.

Still standing.

Still naked.

Still silent.

Still… Prakash.


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That thick silence—

It hadn’t moved.

It stayed.

All around us.

Pressed on my skin.


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Only the fan above.

Turning slowly.

A creak in every spin.

Even that—

Sounded wrong now.


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Like the air didn’t know what to do.

Like the ceiling didn’t want to watch.

Like the room had changed.

And me—

I was breathing.


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Trying.

Not relaxed.

Not sleepy.

Not aroused.

Just… breathing.


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I wasn’t lying soft.

I wasn’t floating.

I wasn’t dreamy.

I was just…

Still.


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Everything open.

Everything exposed.

Everything used.

My thighs—

Still sticky.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Between my legs—

Still damp.

Still sore.

Still parted slightly.

Still his scent.


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My mouth—

Still tasted him.

Not kiss.

Not sweetness.

Just skin.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My neck—

Red.

Where his lips had rubbed.

Where his stubble had burned.

Where it stung.


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The pillow behind me—

Half fallen.

Twisted.

The edge of my saree—

Hanging off the bed like dead skin.


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The sheet—

Damp.

Wrinkled.

Warm in some places.

Cold in others.


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And the smell—

Spit.

Sweat.

Sex.

Heavy.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Dirty.

Unfiltered.

Real.

Clinging to the room.

To me.


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I looked at him.

That cock—

Soft now.

But still heavy.

Still hanging.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Still stained.

With me.

With sweat.

With spit.

Still not innocent.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


And him—

He wasn’t speaking.

Not a word.

Just standing.

Like a statue.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Nude.

Still.

Head slightly tilted down.

Like waiting.

For scolding.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


But no words came.

Not from my mouth.

Not first.

Only my hand moved.

Up.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Covered my breast.

Slowly.

Without thought.

Then I sat.

Halfway.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My body stiff.

But I sat.

And then it came.

The voice.

Low.


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Flat.

From deep inside me.

“Okay now…”

I said it.

He looked.


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My lips—

Trembling.

But I spoke again.

“You said this no…”

I swallowed once.


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“You provoked… you challenged…”

He didn’t reply.

“I accepted…”

My voice cracked.

Just once.


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I cleared my throat.

Soft.

“I let you.”

Then my eyes—

Looked again.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Harder now.

“But…”

Our eyes locked.

No blinking.

No shifting.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“I told you to stop.”

His face—

It twitched.

Slightly.

I saw it.


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“I told you…”

I shook my head.

Once.

Clear.

“Before you pulled my saree.”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


His mouth opened.

A little.

But no words.

Nothing came out.

Just air.


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“Before you ripped that pleat from petticoat…”

I said it slowly.

“You heard.”

Still nothing.

No denial.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“I said it again.”

My throat tightened.

Tears touched the corner of my eyes.

I blinked.

Hard.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Didn’t let them fall.

“When you pulled my blouse…”

I paused.

“I said it.”

My chest was tight now.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“You tore it anyway.”

He stepped.

Just slightly forward.

I flinched.

Instantly.


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He froze.

Like a statue again.

I closed my legs.

Quick.

Tight.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Crossed them.

Pulled my arms in.

Covered myself.

Chest wrapped in elbows.

Breath held.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“And my panty.”

I said it.

Sharp now.

That word.

Like slap.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“That too…”

I looked down.

Then back at him.

“You went like animal.”

No apology on his face.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I wasn’t shouting.

But my breath—

Was rough.

“You made red marks…”

I touched my thigh.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Winced.

Still sore.

“You… didn’t stop.”

The words—

Cracked now.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“I told you…”

I laughed.

Once.

Dry.

No smile.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“I told you before you slapped me.”

His eyes—

They shifted.

Left, right.

Couldn’t stay still.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“You slapped again.”

Then again.

“Then again.”

I was shivering.

Not cold.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“But I said stop.”

I whispered.

Still no reply.

No defence.

Just that same silence.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“And even after that…”

I looked straight.

Right into him.

“Before you pushed that dirty cock in my mouth…”

I stopped.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Shook my head.

Eyes burning now.

“I said stop.”

Nothing.

Still nothing.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He tried.

His lips moved.

I raised my hand.

Quick.

“No.”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Breath caught.

“You didn’t listen.”

I said it again.

“You didn’t listen.”

My voice broke.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I pushed the blanket.

Aside.

Started to get up.

Legs shaking.

Body stiff.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I didn’t look at him.

Not again.

Just asked it.

Once.

Low.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“Now what?”

He opened his mouth.

I cut him.

“You’re acting like good obedient servant now?”

My voice cracked.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I scoffed.

Almost a spit.

Stood up halfway.

Neck stiff.

Back aching.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“You doing revenge ah?”

Still no answer.

Just silence.

I looked again.

Eyes full red.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“You tell me.”

I was getting up.

From the bed.

But inside—

I was not even standing yet.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I was standing now.

Truly standing.

My feet — they touched the cold floor.

Bare. Damp. Sticky.

The tiles felt rough and wet beneath my soles.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


There was a patch of something.

Right near my left heel.

Warm. Slippery.

I knew what it was.

I didn’t flinch.

Between my thighs — still sticky.

Still wet.

Still sore.

My inner legs touched and didn’t want to.

They clung slightly. Peeled apart with movement.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My knees —

They were not straight.

A slight bend was there.

Natural. From the strain.

From the weight of what just happened.

My chest —

It was rising.

Too fast.

Like my body was still trying to catch up.

Like the air hadn’t filled properly yet.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


And he?

Prakash?

He was still there.

Still nude.

Still close.

Not a sound.

Not a move.

Not even blinking now.

His eyes open — but lost.

Like someone pressed pause inside his brain.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


His body was not stiff.

But his silence — it was.

Tight. Stubborn. Frozen.

That same blank stupid face.

Like nothing existed.

Like he didn’t know what world he’s standing in.

Like he was trying to remember what just happened.

Like he was pretending not to.

I watched him.

Every second.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Then I moved.

One step.

Then another.

Slow.

Deliberate.

I walked toward him.

With purpose.

With heat in my chest.

And breath in my fists.

I didn’t stop.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Now we were close.

Face to face.

My eyes — they reached his chin.

My breath — it fell right there.

Right on that little dip beneath his lip.

His chest —

It was inches from mine.

Still damp.

Still warm.

Still marked with sweat.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


And his cock?

It was soft now.

But still there.

Still thick.

Still dangerous.

Hanging between us.

Not rising.

But not innocent.

Just waiting.

Like it knew I saw it.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I tilted my head.

Slight.

Soft.

But sharp.

My eyes — they were full.

Red from before.

Red from breath.

Red from anger.

Red from knowing.

My lips shook.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Not a smile.

Not softness.

Just that tremble.

That comes from everything being full.

Too full.

And I said it.

That one question.

Low.

Sharp.

Right in his face.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


It didn’t come from my mouth.

It came from my throat.

From the heat inside.

From the place that still throbbed.

From the place that just took him in.

“From how many days…”

I asked it.

He blinked.

Once.

Didn’t reply.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I leaned in.

Just a bit.

Closer.

My breath touched his upper lip now.

Warm. Wet.

“How many days da…”

I said it softer.

Not begging.

Not pleading.

Just unblinking.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He looked at my shoulder.

Not my eyes.

Wouldn’t meet them.

Couldn’t.

I didn’t look away.

I stared straight.

Right through him.

Right into that thick silence.

And I said it again.

“You wanted me to do this to you?”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


No movement.

No voice.

Just stillness.

Just guilt hanging.

Between skin and air.

“You were waiting for this no?”

I whispered.

Still nothing.

“You wanted revenge.”

My voice dropped even lower.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“That day I tore your briefs…”

I said it with weight.

He flinched.

A slight twitch.

Tiny. But I saw it.

“You still holding that ah?”

No reply.

Just his mouth — closed.

Pressed together.

Like a child hiding teeth.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“For that one underwear…”

I breathed.

Then let out one dry laugh.

No smile.

No fun.

“You reacted like this?”

I shook my head.

Soft.

Tired.

But steady.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Still no answer.

Not even a flick of eye.

“Still no words ah?”

I whispered.

Low and cutting.

I moved even closer.

My breast brushed his chest now.

Bare.

Soft.

Stuck slightly with sweat.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“You also counted no? My every slap?”

His eyes closed once.

Slow.

As if remembering.

As if collecting.

“Left cheek. Right cheek.”

I said slowly.

Evenly.

“On your cock also.”

No reply.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“You kept all record.”

I nodded.

Once.

“You thought today you’ll give it back?”

No sound.

I stepped in.

Now my forehead was nearly touching his.

Close.

Too close.

Skin to skin without touching.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“You thought today you’ll teach lesson?”

His lips parted slightly.

No sound came.

Just breath.

Just fog.

He licked his lip.

A small twitch.

I watched him fully.

Then I lifted my hand.

High.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


And I slapped him.

One tight slap.

THAPP.

Straight across his cheek.

Loud.

His head jerked.

Not much.

Just enough.

He didn’t lift his hand.

Didn’t stop me.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Just took it.

Like he earned it.

His face turned slightly.

A red patch bloomed.

Bright.

I stared at that mark.

It pulsed slowly.

My fingers still tingled.

From the heat.

From the strike.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Then I moved again.

Closer.

Even closer.

My mouth reached his ear.

My breath reached his hair.

I leaned in.

Slow.

My voice —

Even slower.

“But you know what…”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He turned.

Eyes sideways.

Looking at me.

Still confused.

Still stunned.

Still guilty.

I didn’t wait.

Didn’t let him speak.

Didn’t let him guess.

I whispered.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“I liked this.”

His brow pulled.

Just slightly.

A soft question inside it.

But no words.

I let one corner of my lip rise.

A smile.

Not full.

Just crooked.

“I liked this roughness…”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He didn’t move.

But I saw it.

His throat — it bobbed.

Once.

Swallowed something.

I moved down.

Head lower.

And kissed his chin.

Soft. Wet.

Just under his lip.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


On that rough patch.

Where stubble poked.

Where my skin had scratched before.

I pressed my mouth there.

Gently.

Then I moved my arms.

Lifted them around him.

Wrapped.

Around his waist.

Pulled.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My whole body leaned.

Into his.

Pressed.

My breasts flattened into his chest.

My nipples pushed soft against him.

My hips — they found his stomach.

Sticky skin on sticky skin.

My cheek — it rested on his shoulder.

Breath deep now.

My arms squeezed.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I hugged him.

Long.

Tight.

Still.

Without words.

His hands didn’t move.

Still frozen.

Still in shock.

Still statue.

Still stunned.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


But his chest —

I could feel it.

The thudding.

That dumb heavy heart.

Beating too loud.

I closed my eyes.

Not to sleep.

Not to cry.

Just to feel.

Just to sink.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


And inside.

Not from mouth.

Not from lips.

Only inside my chest.

I said it.

Soft.

Private.

Silent.

But real.

But I want another round.