Misc. Erotica After the Ashes

[krish_999]

Chapter- three

In the month of October, the city witnessed the unusual outpours on a regular basis, and the weather brought a cold charm to the evenings. Madhav chose to sit in the balcony at night after dinner, staying in the calmth of staring at the sky. One day Anjali made tea and joined him with two cups. The stillness of the night and the hotness of the tea gave them a sense of comfort that felt better than any blanket. The air was cold but they were always close, Madhav's arm around Anjali's shoulder, her head often leaning onto his shoulder.
At first it was just for comfort. Soon it felt like something neither dared to name. But they both rested assured by an unknown trust in each other. The fact that no one was there to judge their attachment probably helped.
Madhav had age and maturity on his side, which made him confident that, no matter what, he would never drift into unsteady emotions. Yet whenever Anjali wore loose, thin fabrics, he found himself confronted with fleeting sights that made his pulse quicken - if only for a few seconds.
Her slender body held a quiet perfection in its curves, and every movement carried a natural grace that made it difficult to look away. Had she chosen tight clothes, he would have braced himself for the temptation. But loose, delicate fabrics were different - they offered sudden, unintended glimpses of a hidden beauty, catching him unprepared.
And when she laughed, Madhav felt as though she was the last spark in a world that had nearly gone dark.
Perhaps they had grown too confident with each other. Their touches became natural. Hugs became frequent. Their touch became longer. Nobody said anything. But they both knew they were becoming more fond of each other's company.
One night, when Anjali sat next to him in the couch, she was wearing a sleeveless dress. His hand was already resting on her shoulder, when she shivered he let it slide down her arm. She leaned in, accepting the comfort.
"You should've worn a shawl." He said.
Anjali smiled, "I don't feel the cold when you're around."
"Oh," he smiled at her, and his arm tightened around her.
And then, one morning, she was gone. Her mother had fallen ill and was forced to stay with your parents for a while. Madhav had his meals alone, adding the memories of Anjali to the recurring list of those of Vinayak and Sharada. In the presence of Anjali he had grown slightly comfortable with the memories of his wife and son, and now, in her absence they came back with a vengeance to haunt him.
He couldn't find sleep in the night, as his body couldn't distinguish between day and night. And his days became as darker as the nights should have been. One night, tired, he went to Anjali's room and sat on her bed. He could sense a psychic warmth from the room, feel the scent she left behind, and hear the echoes of her footsteps.
He didn't leave the room that night. And he slept in Anjali's bed, peacefully.
Anjali returned two weeks later. It was a moment Madhav had been waiting, and he wanted to pull her into a tight hug and tell her how much he missed her presence in the house. However, Anjali was accompanied by her father and Madhav controlled his emotions.
"Welcome back, dear." Madhav said quietly. His eyes were damp.
"Are you alright?" Anjali asked.
"No," he admitted softly. “But I am now.”
She smiled, yet kept her distance; her father’s presence demanded it. Still, her eyes lingered on Madhav with an unguarded warmth, as if the happiness in his eyes reflected her own, pleasing her quietly.
Manohar stayed with them overnight. Anjali asked Shalini to prepare the guest room for him, and they all had dinner early. Manohar told Madhav about a marriage prospect that he had found for his younger daughter Roopali. Madhav said it was good, but inside her became nervous due to the thought that Roopali's marriage means Manohar would push more for Anjali's return to his home.
However, Madhav said nothing about his worry. He knew he shouldn't.
That night, Madhav didn't sit out in the balcony. Manohar had gone to sleep, and Madhav too retired to his bedroom early.
Anjali prepared the tea, and brought two cups into Madhav's room. He was sitting on the bed, knees straight, staring at an old stain on the wardrobe door.
Anjali placed the cups down and sat next to him. Their eyes met, and spoke a lot through that look within seconds. They both knew that the tea was just an excuse.
Anjali was the first to make a move to open up. She leaned towards him and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.
"I missed you, dad," She whispered. "More than you know."
"I can imagine," Madhav breathed, “because I missed you too, dear.”
Anjali smiled, as if relieved to hear that. His words sounded like a medicine to her.
"You know, I've been crying a lot these days. Because I felt like I have lost Vinayak again. Yes I have, but with you it felt like there is part of him still staying with me. You are what making me believe I haven't lost him. I don't want to leave you, dad. I don't want to go home, because I don't want to move on from Vinayak. Please." Her eyes had become wet and by the time she said please, tears had fallen off.
Madhav cupped his palms around her face and wiped her tears with his thumps.
"I will never ask you to go, dear." He whispered.
Anjali leaned forward again kissed his forehead gently and instinctively, as if seeking forgiveness for what she was about to do. Then his eyes, closing hers as she did so, letting her grief settle there.

She should have moved back, but instead she pushed herself to stay in the warmth of his embrace, as if she was desperate for it.
Her breath caught between sobs. Her nose brushed against his, and for a moment, she stayed there, their foreheads resting against each other.

"You’re him now,’ she whispered. "You’re my Vinayak…"

Then, without waiting for an answer, she brought her lips to his. Soft. Searching. Uncertain.

Madhav was startled. His hands stayed at his sides. His eyes fluttered open in disbelief. But he didn’t push her away.

She pulled back slightly, breathless, heart pounding.

"I don’t want to lose what I have left dear," he nodded. "I don’t think I can…"

She kissed him again, this time with trembling lips and more longing. But when he didn’t respond, her fingers clutched his shirt and her voice broke.

"Please, Madhav… I’ve missed you so much. You don’t know what it felt like to be away from you."

He closed his eyes.

And then, slowly, he gave in.

His lips parted, not gently this time, but with aching hunger. With every pretense of restraint crumbling away, he kissed her deeply and desperately, his lips locking hers with the weight of everything they had been holding back.

She didn’t need to cry anymore.

She was home.

The kiss deepened, not just in intensity, but in meaning. It carried many months of silence and grief, and the unbearable loneliness of two people who had endured the same lose. What started as a trembling expression of emotion soon became something neither of them could control.

Something unspoken awakened within them. It wasn’t lust, it was something older, something hidden. Dormant feelings were being awakened, impossible to resist. They had no idea how to tackle this moment. No plan. Only surrender.

Their mouths breathed into each other, their hands slowly searching, discovering, invading. Neither of them knew how to stop; they only knew to let it flow.

And then, gently, Anjali pulled back. Her heart was beating hard. Her eyes, misted with tears and flickers of desire, locked onto Madhav’s.

She didn’t say much. Only a whisper.
"Make me live again… Dad."

Madhav blinked. Time stopped. But he didn’t have the strength to question the weight of that plea. She wasn't asking for approval. She was begging for release. To express the love she deserved.

Anjali slowly lifted her kurti and pulled it over her head. The dim light traced the lines of her bare skin, and she climbed onto his lap, straddling him, her knees pressing into the bed. Then she kissed him again - deeper, slower -guiding him back into that space where pain became intimacy.

Madhav was no longer thinking. The boundaries between right and wrong blurred, until they disappeared altogether. He kissed her hungrily, as if every moment without her had been a drought. His hands found the curves of her back, her waist, the softness of her bare skin. He didn’t pause to admire her body - it wasn’t a moment of aesthetic worship - it was a need. A primal need to feel, to belong, to express a bond only he could fulfill.

She lifted her hips slightly as his palms slid past the waistband of her palazzo. She moved her torso forward, allowing him more comfort to slide his hand to feel the roundness of her ass. Her breath hitched, her body trembling under his touch as he moved in and ran his finger tips along the crack of her ass. And he slowly squeezed her ass cheeks. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t stop him. Her hands moved to his waist, trying to lower his trousers - but he couldn’t lift his body beneath her. Still, it was enough. She managed to slide down the front of his pajama. Her fingers reached in and found his length, hot and hard and alive. Her hand trembled as she slowly wrapped her fingers around it, pulling it out of his clothes. She didn't look down. She didn’t need to. And she wasn't paying much attention. She was only moving instinctively, as if she was being guided. Her breath grew heavier, lips parting in a quiver, and she kissed him again - deeply, desperately. By now she had completely forgotten that she was about to mate with her father-in-law. As she pushed her lower lips into his mouth, she felt wanting him to suck it with more intent, and she ended up sucking his upper lips instead. Perhaps he was old-college and thus hesitating a bit. But the kiss grew intense with each share of breath. And their soul and passion grew closer.

Then, slowly, she lifted her hips once more. A silent offering. A silent permission.

Madhav’s hands moved to her waist and slid her lower garments - palazzo and panty- just enough, only a few inches, but enough. She guided herself back down onto his lap, her breath catching as their bodies aligned. And just like a moment of continuation, Anjali instinctively guided his throbbing manhood into her pussy as she lowered herself onto it. She allowed her body to sink deep into him, letting herself be filled by his length. She moaned into his mouth and almost cried with relief. It felt like she deserved it. A wave of hot shivering passed through her stomach. She knew what she was doing wasn't right but she couldn't help her stop it. She knew she was going to regret it, yet she could not turn away. She felt it was the moment of two broken souls finding something to hold onto. It didn’t feel like an act of desire. Instead it just felt like a bond was complete.

And in that moment, as their bodies moved into become one, it felt like someone, somewhere, had written this moment long ago. It felt like fate.
And she knew he too deserved it equally, which made the whole thing worth experiencing. That feeling itself brought joy into her, and she started moving her hip up and down.
"Oh my... Oh my dad... Mmm... Love me, please..." she kept blurting through her broken breath. Her breasts kept shaking within the confinement of her light pink bra.
Madhav's hands moved from her ass cheeks and held firmly at the sides of her hips, helping her move effortlessly. No words were spoken apart from the occasional encouragement from Anjali, but the vigour and togetherness never faded. They didn't even care to move their clothes more than necessary. They had moved enough to get to the point. The kiss too had ended; they were now just staring into each other's eyes while they continued to fuck nonstop.

After a couple of minutes, Anjali watched his eyes shine with an expression. An anticipation. Anjali started moving faster. She could feel Madhav's length throbbing inside her.
"Oh God, Anjali..." he breathed.
"Do it, Madhav. Don't stop it," Anjali said.
She knew he was about to come, and she moved as fast as she could until he let out a small groan, and she watched Madhav immerse himself in the pleasure of release. She stopped moving and held her body down to let him come inside her and fill her. Then, as he completed, she gifted her lips to him to devour. By the time he took a break from the intense kiss that followed, every drop of his had been exchanged from him to Anjali’s body.
Anjali spent a few seconds to settle her breathing, before slowly moving off him. His half limb length slid out of her and its top was still smeared with his white cum. Anjali sat beside his leg and she could feel wetness leaking out of her. She looked around for a cloth and only found her kurti. She grabbed it and pressed it between her thighs. She couldn't look straight at Madhav. She felt shy, ashamed a little, before moving on to an underwhelming feeling which she couldn't make out whether relief or guilt. She only knew she had done the irreversible.
Madhav sat back tired, eyes becoming moist as reality seeped in. He pulled his pants back and stared at the ceiling, unable to make out what to say. He looked around his room and it felt like another world all of a sudden.
Anjali saw his eyes become wet. She placed her hand on his chest.
"Don't hate yourself, dad," she said. "We needed each other, that's all."
Madhav looked at her, and nodded slowly. "You’re stronger than I am, Anjali. Tell me what to do.”
She touched his cheek and nodded. "Let me go," she whispered and got up, pulling the pants back. She didn't want to wear the top anymore, for it had become spoiled with her fluids mixed with his cum. She clutched the crumbled cloth against her chest to hide her bra clad breasts from him.
Her head felt like spinning at she stood straight. "Dad," she didn't say anything further as she walked back with a quiet urgency to get back to her room.
She pulled open the half-closed door and almost ran to her room, holding the clothes pressed to her chest. Inside the room, she tossed the kurta onto the bed and rushed into the bathroom. She took off the remaining clothes before turning on the shower faucet to spray water on her body. However, water only helped her realise the coldness of the reality and a moment later, her breath started to cover in bursts. She cried. She couldn't understand why she was crying but she didn't want to stop it. Eventually, she turned on the shower and stood straight under it, with the hope of letting it all get washed away.

In the hall outside, Manohar stood frozen in the dark, a steel water bottle forgotten in his hand. He had come out to drink some water.
But instead, he had seen his daughter hurriedly moving out from her father-in-law's room - frantic, topless, and clutching her rumpled kurti top against her chest.
He didn’t need to guess what had happened.

And as he stood there, alone in the silence, the darkness swallowed not just his figure… but his peace.