08-11-2018, 02:40 AM
(This post was last modified: 21-04-2019, 10:28 PM by Ramesh_Rocky. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Siddharth felt the sun on his face. He opened his bloodshot eyes. He felt terrible, his head pounded. The bed was moving. He looked over. Sumit was on his back this time, Anitya on top, slowly moving up and down, rocking back and forth. As she moved up, Siddharth saw Sumit's long thick cock, glistening with the excitement of his wife's pussy. He wasn't wearing a condom, which was no surprise. Each time she moved down on Sumit's cock, Siddharth heard her whimper and moan. Sumit reached up and gently cupped her breasts, gently rubbing her nipples and making her moan even more. Anitya leaned down and kissed him, their kiss lasting a long time as she slowly rocked back and forth, then she slowly drew back, her long soft blonde hair rolling over his chest, and Siddharth heard Sumit moan. Siddharth loved it when Anitya did that to him, when she was on top and swayed her long hair over his chest, it felt so incredibly good. Sumit had never experienced that with Avani or his short haired girlfriends, but now he was discovering that wonderful sensation from his wife.
It wasn't the frantic fucking of last night. It was slow. It was considerate. With a sinking heart Siddharth realized Anitya wasn't fucking Sumit. She was making love to him.
He got out of bed, disheartened. They didn't even notice, Anitya didn't notice. He thought about killing himself. What did he have to live for? He'd lost his wife. No doubt she was pregnant from Sumit's fertile sperm. He had a gun and bullets in the desk. All he had to do is put it in his mouth and pull the trigger. Maybe then Anitya would notice him again, at least for a minute. But he didn't have the guts to do it. He was a wimp letting another man fuck his wife, and a coward too. He made coffee and sat at the kitchen table.
He could hear their moans of passion and ecstasy. He knew he should leave the house, maybe take a drive, but he was frozen in place, like an insect attracted to flame. He heard Anitya cry out in orgasm, and then moments later Sumit's groans and the bed slammed up and down against the floor, over and over again, Sumit depositing another big load of his fertile seed deep into his wife's womb. Was there any chance he hadn't impregnated her by now? His cock twitched at the thought and he experienced another wave of self-disgust.
He heard bare feet on the hardwood floor and then the shower being turned on. The shower curtain opening and closing. Laughing and giggling. Then silence. Then moans and whimpering. God, were they really doing it again so soon? He heard banging against the wall, and imagined Anitya pressed against the shower tiles, her long legs wrapped around Sumit's waist, the two kissing as he pounded her again with his big cock. Siddharth couldn't help himself. He reached into his shorts, and came after just a few tugs of his cock, barely catching his sperm with a tissue so at least he didn't soil himself. Finally the pounding stopped, and then the shower turned off, and he heard people dressing. Siddharth felt like he wanted to cry.
Five minutes later Anitya emerged from the bedroom. Freshly showered, she wore only the Manchester United t-shirt she normally wore to bed. Seeing Siddharth sitting at the table, she smiled hesitantly, looking a little guilty. Moving behind him, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I wondered where you went," she said kissing his cheek.
It wasn't the frantic fucking of last night. It was slow. It was considerate. With a sinking heart Siddharth realized Anitya wasn't fucking Sumit. She was making love to him.
He got out of bed, disheartened. They didn't even notice, Anitya didn't notice. He thought about killing himself. What did he have to live for? He'd lost his wife. No doubt she was pregnant from Sumit's fertile sperm. He had a gun and bullets in the desk. All he had to do is put it in his mouth and pull the trigger. Maybe then Anitya would notice him again, at least for a minute. But he didn't have the guts to do it. He was a wimp letting another man fuck his wife, and a coward too. He made coffee and sat at the kitchen table.
He could hear their moans of passion and ecstasy. He knew he should leave the house, maybe take a drive, but he was frozen in place, like an insect attracted to flame. He heard Anitya cry out in orgasm, and then moments later Sumit's groans and the bed slammed up and down against the floor, over and over again, Sumit depositing another big load of his fertile seed deep into his wife's womb. Was there any chance he hadn't impregnated her by now? His cock twitched at the thought and he experienced another wave of self-disgust.
He heard bare feet on the hardwood floor and then the shower being turned on. The shower curtain opening and closing. Laughing and giggling. Then silence. Then moans and whimpering. God, were they really doing it again so soon? He heard banging against the wall, and imagined Anitya pressed against the shower tiles, her long legs wrapped around Sumit's waist, the two kissing as he pounded her again with his big cock. Siddharth couldn't help himself. He reached into his shorts, and came after just a few tugs of his cock, barely catching his sperm with a tissue so at least he didn't soil himself. Finally the pounding stopped, and then the shower turned off, and he heard people dressing. Siddharth felt like he wanted to cry.
Five minutes later Anitya emerged from the bedroom. Freshly showered, she wore only the Manchester United t-shirt she normally wore to bed. Seeing Siddharth sitting at the table, she smiled hesitantly, looking a little guilty. Moving behind him, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I wondered where you went," she said kissing his cheek.
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