Adultery Priya Didi

[shailu4ever]

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Priya Didi could feel his body behind hers, solid, present, never demanding. The warmth of him radiated against her back like a slow, spreading wave, anchoring her, giving her permission to let go.
 
His hands guided hers beneath the stream. Water slid over her skin, tracing the lines of her palms, rinsing flour away grain by grain. Ravi felt every subtle shift, the softness of her fingers, the way her hands relaxed into his, the trust implicit in her stillness.
 
The coolness of the water sharpened his awareness of her warmth, of the careful way his thumbs steadied her hands, attentive and unhurried.
 
It felt as though the water was washing away more than flour, washing away distance, hesitation, years of careful restraint. The soft pressure of his touch dissolved silent barriers she hadn’t known how to name.
 
Each movement was deliberate, slow, as though he were savoring the simple act of caring for her, of being allowed this closeness.
 
To Ravi, it felt intimate in the deepest sense, not because of what he wanted, but because of how fully she was letting him be here.
 
“I don’t want to pull away,” Priya thought, feeling his fingers move with such quiet devotion.
“His touch feels like… a promise. A surrender I didn’t know I was ready for.”
 
She felt the warmth of his hands through the water, steady and sure. His fingers were slightly calloused, yet incredibly gentle, treating her skin with reverence, as though this moment mattered.
 
She realized then that she wasn’t just letting him wash away the flour.
She was letting him wash away the distance she had always kept.
 
Ravi’s breath warmed the back of her neck, and she leaned into the closeness just slightly, instinctively, her body answering before thought. The subtle shift sent a quiet jolt through him, a recognition that she was choosing this too.
 
The water remained cool, but the warmth of his hands created a new rhythm in the room, a language without words, only touch, only breath.
 
Her hands were clean now, but Ravi didn’t release them immediately. His fingers lingered, steady, reassuring, as if memorizing the feel of her, the shape of this moment.
 
Neither of them spoke.
Neither pulled away.
 
They stood there, breathing in sync, the kitchen and the world beyond it suspended in this fragile, perfect moment.
 
“This is what it feels like,” Priya thought, “when something is right. When it doesn’t need to be rushed. When you can just breathe, and be. And it’s enough.”
 
Ravi stepped back slowly, just enough to let her hands fall from his, but not completely. A quiet tension remained, a shared understanding that something had shifted, something irreversible in its gentleness.
 
Priya didn’t move away. She stayed, her body still leaning slightly into his presence. There was no rush to speak.
 
Not yet.
 
It wasn’t possession.
It was permission.
 
And for the first time since everything began, neither of them was afraid of what the other felt.

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