20-08-2026, 04:44 PM
The evening temple bell rang its final note as Arjun approached the small quarters behind the building's prayer hall. The corridor smelled of camphor and old incense — that particular mustiness of sacred spaces rarely aired.
He knocked twice.
"Rajendran sir? Are you there?"
Shuffling sounds from within. The scbang of a chair. Then the door opened, revealing the priest in his usual white dhoti, the big kumkum mark fresh on his forehead, grey hair still damp from evening ablutions.
"Arjun beta! What brings you here?" The old man's voice carried warmth. Grandfatherly concern. "Everything alright at home?"
"Yes, yes — everything is fine, sir. I wanted to discuss something with you. Do you have a moment?"
Rajendran's eyes flickered — just a fraction of a second, barely noticeable. A calculation happening behind those small, sharp pupils.
"Come, come. Sit."
The quarters were cramped. A single cot pushed against one wall, a small puja corner crowded with brass idols and wilting flowers, a plastic chair that Rajendran pulled out for his guest. The priest settled onto his cot, knees creaking, and fixed Arjun with an attentive gaze.
"Tell me, beta. What's troubling you?"
Arjun launched into it — the work stress, the impossible deadlines, the feeling of being cursed. The words tumbled out, weeks of frustration finally finding release. Rajendran listened with practiced patience, nodding at appropriate moments, making small sounds of sympathy.
But his mind had already drifted elsewhere.
His flat. He wants me inside his flat.
The thought sent a pulse of heat straight to his groin. Under the white dhoti, his cock stirred — that familiar thickening he'd learned to hide over decades of temple service.
Devika. In her own home. Sitting for homan. Close enough to touch.
He shifted slightly on the cot. Adjusted the fabric across his lap.
"...so I was thinking homan might help. Clear whatever negative energy is blocking my progress. My mother always believed in these things, and lately I've started to understand why."
Rajendran stroked his chin. Let the silence stretch. The art of appearing thoughtful while his blood ran hot with anticipation.
"Homan is very powerful, beta. Very powerful indeed." He kept his voice measured. Serious. "But it requires proper preparation. Proper timing. I have temple duties — morning puja, evening aarti, the upcoming Kartik purnima arrangements..."
Arjun's face fell. "I understand, sir. If you're too busy—"
"I didn't say no." Rajendran held up one large, rough hand. Let the moment hang. "When were you thinking?"
"This Sunday? Morning time?"
Sunday. Four days.
His cock pulsed again. He pressed his thigh against it, maintaining the grave expression of a holy man considering sacred matters.
"Sunday is difficult. Temple committee meeting in the afternoon. Sponsor visits in the evening."
"Please, sir." Arjun leaned forward. Desperate. "I'll arrange everything. Samagri, flowers, ghee — Devika will handle all preparations. You just have to come and perform the rituals. I'll pay whatever dakshina you ask."
Devika will handle preparations.
The image bloomed unbidden — her bending to arrange flowers around the havan kund, pallu slipping, that soft curve of waist he'd traced with his finger in the temple crowd...
"Your wife will be present throughout?"
"Of course. She'll assist with the offerings. Pour ghee when needed. All that."
Rajendran closed his eyes. Appeared to be consulting some inner spiritual calendar. In reality, he was savoring the fantasy — Devika in her home, trapped by ritual and her husband's presence, unable to escape his proximity for hours.
"Alright, beta."
Arjun's face transformed. Relief flooding every feature.
"You'll do it? Really?"
"How can I refuse when a young man comes seeking blessings with such sincerity?" Rajendran smiled — that crooked yellow smile that made Devika's skin crawl. "Sunday morning. Six o'clock sharp. I'll bring the sacred fire myself."
"Thank you, sir. Thank you so much." Arjun pressed his palms together. "You don't know what this means to me."
Oh, I know exactly what it means.
"Go home, beta. Rest. Tell your wife to prepare the east-facing corner of your living room. Clean it thoroughly. No leather items nearby. And..." He paused. Let his voice drop to something intimate, confidential. "Tell her to wear simple clothes. Cotton. White or light colors. Nothing too elaborate. The gods prefer humility."
"I'll tell her. Definitely."
Arjun rose. Touched Rajendran's feet in respect. The priest blessed him with one hand while the other remained strategically dbangd across his lap, hiding the growing bulge beneath his dhoti.
"Go safely, beta. I'll see you Sunday."
The door closed. Footsteps faded down the corridor.
Rajendran sat motionless for a long moment. Then his hand moved beneath the white fabric, finding the rigid heat of his erection. He gripped himself through the thin cotton. Squeezed.
Her flat. Her home. Her husband watching while I sit three feet away from her.
While I chant mantras over sacred fire.
While she feeds ghee into flames with those soft fingers I've tasted.
He stroked slowly. Eyes closed. The smell of camphor filling his nostrils.
Sunday.
He knocked twice.
"Rajendran sir? Are you there?"
Shuffling sounds from within. The scbang of a chair. Then the door opened, revealing the priest in his usual white dhoti, the big kumkum mark fresh on his forehead, grey hair still damp from evening ablutions.
"Arjun beta! What brings you here?" The old man's voice carried warmth. Grandfatherly concern. "Everything alright at home?"
"Yes, yes — everything is fine, sir. I wanted to discuss something with you. Do you have a moment?"
Rajendran's eyes flickered — just a fraction of a second, barely noticeable. A calculation happening behind those small, sharp pupils.
"Come, come. Sit."
The quarters were cramped. A single cot pushed against one wall, a small puja corner crowded with brass idols and wilting flowers, a plastic chair that Rajendran pulled out for his guest. The priest settled onto his cot, knees creaking, and fixed Arjun with an attentive gaze.
"Tell me, beta. What's troubling you?"
Arjun launched into it — the work stress, the impossible deadlines, the feeling of being cursed. The words tumbled out, weeks of frustration finally finding release. Rajendran listened with practiced patience, nodding at appropriate moments, making small sounds of sympathy.
But his mind had already drifted elsewhere.
His flat. He wants me inside his flat.
The thought sent a pulse of heat straight to his groin. Under the white dhoti, his cock stirred — that familiar thickening he'd learned to hide over decades of temple service.
Devika. In her own home. Sitting for homan. Close enough to touch.
He shifted slightly on the cot. Adjusted the fabric across his lap.
"...so I was thinking homan might help. Clear whatever negative energy is blocking my progress. My mother always believed in these things, and lately I've started to understand why."
Rajendran stroked his chin. Let the silence stretch. The art of appearing thoughtful while his blood ran hot with anticipation.
"Homan is very powerful, beta. Very powerful indeed." He kept his voice measured. Serious. "But it requires proper preparation. Proper timing. I have temple duties — morning puja, evening aarti, the upcoming Kartik purnima arrangements..."
Arjun's face fell. "I understand, sir. If you're too busy—"
"I didn't say no." Rajendran held up one large, rough hand. Let the moment hang. "When were you thinking?"
"This Sunday? Morning time?"
Sunday. Four days.
His cock pulsed again. He pressed his thigh against it, maintaining the grave expression of a holy man considering sacred matters.
"Sunday is difficult. Temple committee meeting in the afternoon. Sponsor visits in the evening."
"Please, sir." Arjun leaned forward. Desperate. "I'll arrange everything. Samagri, flowers, ghee — Devika will handle all preparations. You just have to come and perform the rituals. I'll pay whatever dakshina you ask."
Devika will handle preparations.
The image bloomed unbidden — her bending to arrange flowers around the havan kund, pallu slipping, that soft curve of waist he'd traced with his finger in the temple crowd...
"Your wife will be present throughout?"
"Of course. She'll assist with the offerings. Pour ghee when needed. All that."
Rajendran closed his eyes. Appeared to be consulting some inner spiritual calendar. In reality, he was savoring the fantasy — Devika in her home, trapped by ritual and her husband's presence, unable to escape his proximity for hours.
"Alright, beta."
Arjun's face transformed. Relief flooding every feature.
"You'll do it? Really?"
"How can I refuse when a young man comes seeking blessings with such sincerity?" Rajendran smiled — that crooked yellow smile that made Devika's skin crawl. "Sunday morning. Six o'clock sharp. I'll bring the sacred fire myself."
"Thank you, sir. Thank you so much." Arjun pressed his palms together. "You don't know what this means to me."
Oh, I know exactly what it means.
"Go home, beta. Rest. Tell your wife to prepare the east-facing corner of your living room. Clean it thoroughly. No leather items nearby. And..." He paused. Let his voice drop to something intimate, confidential. "Tell her to wear simple clothes. Cotton. White or light colors. Nothing too elaborate. The gods prefer humility."
"I'll tell her. Definitely."
Arjun rose. Touched Rajendran's feet in respect. The priest blessed him with one hand while the other remained strategically dbangd across his lap, hiding the growing bulge beneath his dhoti.
"Go safely, beta. I'll see you Sunday."
The door closed. Footsteps faded down the corridor.
Rajendran sat motionless for a long moment. Then his hand moved beneath the white fabric, finding the rigid heat of his erection. He gripped himself through the thin cotton. Squeezed.
Her flat. Her home. Her husband watching while I sit three feet away from her.
While I chant mantras over sacred fire.
While she feeds ghee into flames with those soft fingers I've tasted.
He stroked slowly. Eyes closed. The smell of camphor filling his nostrils.
Sunday.
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