Adultery Priya Didi

[shailu4ever]

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“Ravi told me everything… everything he did to you,” Neetu murmured, her words low, velvety, intimate—making the air between them feel thick and charged.

 
Sirisha stiffened for a moment, breath catching, but Neetu drew her closer, arms anchoring her in a steady, enveloping embrace. The subtle pressure of Neetu’s heavenly breasts against her tender breasts grounded her, yet stirred something forbidden, stirring a warmth that she hadn’t anticipated. 

Neetu’s tone remained soft, confessional, almost secretive, as though sharing something meant for only them.
 
“And still, beta… you are safe here. None of that makes you less. None of that makes you wrong. You are part of us. This circle…” Neetu’s lips brushed softly against Sirisha’s cheek—not quite a kiss, but the sensation alone sent a wave of heat spiraling down her body. “…this circle is stronger than any mistake, stronger than any guilt.”
 
“You don’t need to hide from me. From Ravi. From yourself,” Neetu whispered, her breath warm, soft, and impossibly close, sliding across Sirisha’s neck as if tracing the contours of her pulse. “In this circle of trust, you can tell us anything, feel anything. We will always stand for each other, take care of each other… even in the messiest of places.”
 
Sirisha felt it before she even registered it consciously, the feather-light brush of Neetu’s lips against her cheek, soft and deliberate, lingering just enough to stir an almost dizzying warmth behind her eyes. The sensation spread slowly, like a current sliding along her skin, down her neck, and across her shoulders, awakening every nerve ending it touched. 

Her breath hitched slightly, involuntary, caught somewhere between shyness and a thrilling awareness of closeness she had never fully allowed herself to feel.
 
Neetu’s warm breath brushed against her ear and the curve of her neck, soft, steady, almost hypnotic. It carried the faint, natural scent of her, a mix of jasmine and the subtle warmth of her skin, and Sirisha felt herself leaning in minutely, drawn by the intimate gravity of the moment. 

Every exhale from Neetu pressed a tender insistence against her, a quiet, unspoken assurance that melted the tension coiled in her chest. The heat between them was subtle but undeniable, a slow, simmering awareness that teased her senses, softly erotic in the gentlest, most consuming way.
 
Sirisha’s fingers flexed slightly against Neetu’s arm, unable to resist the shiver that ran down her spine, the mix of safety, closeness, and the delicate, intoxicating thrill of being held so near. 

Even her heartbeat seemed to sync with the rhythm of Neetu’s warmth, the soft intimacy of lips and breath and touch weaving an almost sacred tension that made the world beyond the room vanish entirely.

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