Misc. Erotica Five Years She live Without Touch… Then He Ruined Her married cunt..

[Vinis1]

Hello guy's..i am back with new story..
I hope you like content and subject..

So let's start with introduction..

38-year-old separated corporate mom, arranged marriage, 2 kids , living independently, husband’s affairs led to 5-year separation, no divorce yet.

Her body figure..
fair-to-medium Indian skin tone, long highlighted brown hair, consistent smile with good teeth, average height ~5'6–5'7", healthy weight,  She carries herself with quiet confidence — warm but not overtly seductive. Body is consistently hourglass/curvy across outfits.

36-30-38 (Bust-Waist-Hips), Cup size 36C (bordering 36D).

Let's start to the story..


Before going ahead..let me see how many intrested in this bold erotic story..

[sarit11]

my dear writer

dont mention underage

[Vinis1]

**let's start**

Pooja’s separation began quietly but painfully. After years of an arranged marriage that had turned cold, the final confirmation of her husband’s multiple affairs broke something inside her. She did not scream or create a scene. She simply packed her things, took her two children (then around 3 and 8 years old), and moved into the independent house her father had helped her buy years earlier. Legally they remained married. Emotionally and physically, the marriage was already dead.

---

### **Year 1 – Survival Mode**

The first year was the hardest.  
Pooja’s daily routine became strict and mechanical:

- 6:00 AM – Wake up, prepare breakfast and tiffin for the children  
- 7:30 AM – Drop them at college  
- 9:00 AM to 6:30 PM – Corporate job (she threw herself into work to avoid thinking)  
- Evening – Pick up kids, help with homework, cook, household chores  
- 10:30 PM – Children asleep  
- 11:00 PM onwards – Silence

At night the loneliness hit hardest. She would lie in bed staring at the ceiling. When her body felt needy, she handled it quickly and privately — usually in the bathroom after a shower, or late at night under the blanket with her hand. It was mechanical, almost angry. She never used toys in the first year. She felt ashamed even of her own desire.  

She told almost no one the full truth. To colleagues and distant relatives she simply said, “We are living separately for now.” When women at work complained about their husbands, she listened quietly but rarely shared her own story. Inside she felt like a failure — a married woman without a husband, a mother without support.

---

### **Year 2 – Numb Routine + First Quiet Cracks**

By the second year the routine was the same, but the numbness had settled deeper.  
She started going to the gym three times a week after office, mainly to exhaust her body so she would sleep faster.  

When she felt horny (which happened more often now), she still used only her fingers, but the sessions became longer. Sometimes she would watch soft romantic scenes on her phone with earphones and touch herself slowly. She never watched hardcore content yet.  

She began noticing men more. Not actively, but her eyes lingered a few seconds longer on younger colleagues or men at the gym. She never spoke to them beyond polite work talk. Still, the thought “What if…” started appearing in her mind late at night.

---

### **Year 3 – Quiet Awakening**

In the third year something shifted.  
The children were older and more independent. Work was stable. The sharp pain of betrayal had dulled into a permanent background ache.

Her daily life remained structured, but she started allowing herself small things:
- Better lingerie (still modest, but prettier)  
- Longer time in front of the mirror after bathing  
- Occasional late-night wine alone  

When she felt aroused, she began experimenting more. She bought her first small vibrator online, hidden carefully. Using it felt both shameful and liberating. Sometimes she would finish and then cry quietly for a few minutes for reasons she couldn’t fully explain.

She still did not approach anyone. But she started dressing a little better at the office — slightly tighter kurtis, better fitting jeans on weekends. A few younger male colleagues began giving her extra attention. She noticed. She didn’t encourage it… but she also didn’t shut it down as coldly as before.

---

### **Year 4 – Controlled Temptation**

By the fourth year Pooja had grown quietly confident.  
She was a successful corporate woman, a capable single mother (in practice), and her body had remained curvy and attractive.  

Her routine was still disciplined, but her nights changed.  
When the children slept, she sometimes spent 30–45 minutes with her vibrator, watching more explicit videos now. She started fantasising about being desired by someone younger, stronger, more passionate than her husband had ever been.  

She began mild, careful flirting:
- Holding eye contact a few seconds longer with attractive younger men at work or the gym  
- Smiling more openly  
- Accepting compliments instead of brushing them off  

One or two men clearly showed interest. She never crossed the line, but she enjoyed the feeling of being wanted. It became a private game — how much attention she could attract without doing anything “wrong.”

---

### **Year 5 – Ready Without Realising**

In the fifth year the hunger became harder to ignore.  
Pooja’s daily life looked the same from the outside — college runs, office, home, responsibility. But inside she was restless.  

When she felt horny (which was now several times a week), she no longer felt only shame. There was also anger and longing. She used toys more regularly. Sometimes she stood in front of the mirror afterwards, looking at her naked body, and thought, “Someone should want this. Someone should take this properly.”

She started dressing more deliberately on weekends and for office parties — deeper necklines, better fitted clothes, subtle makeup. She noticed younger men (late 20s to early 30s) looking at her with clear interest. A few times she caught herself imagining what it would feel like if one of them actually touched her.

She still never acted on it.  
She told herself she was just looking, just enjoying the attention after years of being ignored. But the truth was simpler: after five years of emotional and physical starvation, Pooja was quietly, slowly becoming ready for something real — something physical, intense, and completely outside the dead marriage she was still legally tied to.

That was her state when she finally came across Matteo.

Five years of discipline, loneliness, private release, suppressed desire, and carefully controlled temptation had shaped her into a woman who looked composed on the outside and was starving on the inside.

---

[Uvaaaa]

Nice start update soon

[Vinis1]

Hello guys..

Let's eloborate her 4th year..


The fourth year of Pooja’s separation began quietly, almost without her noticing the exact date. By now the sharp pain of her husband’s betrayal had settled into something duller and heavier — a permanent background weight she carried without talking about it. She was 37 years old. Her children were older, more independent. Her corporate career was stable. From the outside, her life looked organised and successful. Inside, it was a carefully managed solitude.

---

### Daily Routine – The Structure That Held Her Together

Pooja’s days in the fourth year followed a strict, almost rigid pattern. She needed the structure. Without it, the emptiness became too loud.

She woke every morning at 5:45 AM, before the children. The house was still dark and silent. She would sit on the edge of the bed for a few minutes in the quiet, staring at the wall, before forcing herself to stand. After washing her face, she prepared breakfast and college tiffins with efficient, practised movements. By 7:15 she was dropping the children at college. By 8:30 she was at her office desk.

At work she was known as reliable, calm, and slightly reserved. She rarely joined in office gossip about marriages or husbands. When colleagues complained about their partners, she listened with a polite half-smile and changed the subject. No one really knew the full truth of her situation. Most people assumed she was simply a private person.

She left the office between 6:00 and 6:30 PM, picked up the children, supervised homework, cooked dinner, and managed the household. By 10:00 PM the children were usually in bed. That was when the second part of her day began — the part no one else saw.

---

### The Loneliness

The loneliness of the fourth year was different from the first three. In the beginning it had been sharp and shocking. Now it was quieter and more dangerous. It had become familiar.

After the children slept, the house felt too large. Pooja would often stand in the living room with a glass of water, listening to the silence. Sometimes she played old songs on low volume. Sometimes she simply sat on the sofa in the dark. The knowledge that she was a married woman who had not been touched with desire in years sat heavily on her chest.

She missed being wanted. Not just sexually — though that hunger was real — but the feeling of being chosen, looked at with hunger, held with purpose. Her body still responded to random things: a scene in a web series, the sight of a fit younger man at the gym, even certain smells. Each time it happened she felt a complicated mix of need and shame.

---

### How She Controlled Her Feelings

Pooja had developed strict internal rules by the fourth year.

She allowed herself physical release, but only on her own terms and only in private. Two or three nights a week, after the children were deeply asleep, she would lock her bedroom door. Sometimes she used her hands. More often now she used the small vibrator she had bought the previous year and kept hidden in a locked drawer. The sessions were rarely long or romantic. She did not light candles or play music. She simply took care of the need efficiently, then cleaned up and went to sleep. Afterwards she often felt empty rather than satisfied.

Emotionally she kept everyone at a careful distance. She had two or three female colleagues she spoke to more freely, but even with them she never fully confessed how lonely she felt or how strong her physical hunger had become. She told herself that wanting more made her weak or impure. So she swallowed the feelings and kept moving.

When attractive younger men at the office or gym showed interest — longer eye contact, extra smiles, offers to help with small things — she felt a quiet thrill. She never encouraged it openly. She would smile politely, keep the conversation short, and walk away. But at night she sometimes replayed those small moments while touching herself. The fantasy remained private and, in her mind, still “safe.”

---

### Maintaining Her Figure

One of the few areas where Pooja felt a sense of control was her body. She refused to let herself go.

She went to the gym four mornings a week before office, usually from 6:15 to 7:15 AM. Her routine was disciplined: 20–25 minutes of cardio, followed by weight training focused on glutes, thighs, back, and core. She was not trying to become thin. She wanted to remain curvy, firm, and feminine. Her measurements stayed close to 38-32-38. Her breasts remained full, her waist relatively defined, her hips and thighs soft but toned.

She watched her diet without becoming obsessive — home food, controlled portions, very little junk. She drank enough water. She oiled her skin regularly. After every shower she applied moisturiser carefully, sometimes looking at her naked body in the mirror with a complicated expression. There were nights when she stood there longer than necessary, running her hands over her breasts, waist, and hips, thinking, “Someone should want this.” Then she would turn away, put on her nightdress, and go to bed.

---

### The Quiet Shift in the Fourth Year

By the middle of the fourth year, something subtle had changed. The strict control was still there, but it had developed small cracks.

She started dressing a little better. Not openly seductive, but more fitted blouses, better jeans on weekends, subtle lipstick even on ordinary days. She noticed when younger men looked at her, and instead of immediately looking away, she sometimes held their gaze for an extra second or two. The attention felt like water on dry ground.

Her private fantasies also grew bolder. The faceless men in her mind while she used the vibrator were now clearly younger, fitter, more dominant. Sometimes she imagined being wanted without having to ask. Sometimes she imagined being taken with force and hunger. Afterwards she would feel guilty, then push the guilt down and go to sleep.

She still did not cross any real line. She did not give her number to anyone. She did not accept invitations that could lead somewhere. But the desire to be desired had grown stronger than her ability to fully suppress it.

By the end of the fourth year, Pooja was a woman living in careful balance. Outwardly she was the responsible mother and competent professional. Inwardly she was a 37-year-old woman who had spent four years starving for touch, affection, and real sexual attention. She had controlled her feelings through routine, discipline, private release, and emotional distance. She had maintained her body with almost stubborn care. And underneath all of it, a quiet, growing hunger was waiting for someone who would finally break the pattern.

That was the state in which she entered her fifth year — still controlled, still lonely, still disciplined… and far closer to the edge than she realised.

---

[Vinis1]

Enter in her 5th year after separation with Hubby...but not divorce yet..

I hope you guys are involving my story..need compliment and comme


******
The fifth year began without any dramatic marker. No anniversary note on the calendar. No conversation with anyone. Pooja simply woke up one ordinary Monday, looked at herself in the bathroom mirror while brushing her teeth, and realised she had now been living as a married woman without a husband for five full years. The thought did not bring tears. It brought a quiet, tired recognition.

She was thirty-eight.  
Her daughter and Her son are studying.  
Her body still held the soft, full curves of a woman who had given birth twice and then refused to let herself disappear.

---

### The Outer Routine – Still Perfect

From the outside, her life looked almost enviably organised.

She woke at 5:40 a.m. without an alarm. The house was dark and cool. She made tea first, standing at the kitchen window while the water boiled, staring at the quiet lane outside. Then she prepared breakfast and college tiffins with the same efficient movements she had used for years. By 7:20 she had dropped both children at college. By 8:45 she was at her desk on the eleventh floor of a glass office building in Mumbai’s business district.

At work she was respected. Colleagues described her as calm, reliable, and slightly reserved. She never spoke about her personal life. When the conversation turned to husbands or weekends, she smiled politely and changed the subject. No one asked too many questions anymore. People had grown used to her quiet independence.

Evenings followed the same pattern: pick up the children, homework, dinner, a little television, lights out by 10:15. By 10:45 the house belonged only to her again.

That was when the real life of her fifth year began.

---

### The Loneliness – Deeper and More Dangerous

In the fifth year the loneliness changed shape.  
It was no longer the sharp, breathless pain of the first two years. It had become something heavier and more intimate — a constant low ache that lived under her ribs.

She missed being desired.  
Not the polite affection of relatives or the respectful nods of colleagues. She missed the specific heat of a man’s eyes looking at her body with clear intent. She missed the weight of a man on top of her. She missed being wanted without having to ask.

Some nights she would stand in front of the full-length mirror after her shower, towel dropped, and simply look at herself. Full breasts that had stayed high, a soft waist, rounded hips, thick but firm thighs. She would run her hands over her own skin and think, almost angrily, “Someone should be touching this. Someone should be losing control over this.”

Then she would turn away, put on a nightdress, and go to bed.

---

### How She Controlled Her Feelings

Pooja had developed a private system of discipline.

She allowed herself physical release, but she tried to keep it contained. She still refused to let loneliness turn into chaos. She did not drink to forget. She did not cry in front of the children. She did not confide fully in any friend. The feelings were acknowledged only in the locked privacy of her bedroom after midnight.

When the hunger became too strong, she dealt with it directly rather than letting it spill into the day. She had learned that ignoring it only made it worse.

---

### How She Started Satisfying Herself

By the fifth year her private habits had grown more deliberate.

She no longer felt the same sharp shame she had felt in the first two years. The small vibrator she had bought earlier was now used regularly — three or four nights a week. Sometimes she used only her hands. Sometimes she watched carefully chosen videos with earphones, volume low. The fantasies had changed. The men in her mind were no longer faceless. They were younger, stronger, more assertive. They looked at her the way her husband had not looked at her in years.

Afterwards she would lie still for several minutes, breathing, staring at the ceiling. The physical relief was real. The emotional emptiness that followed was also real. She would clean up, lock the drawer, and force herself to sleep.

She told herself this was enough.  
It was not.

---

### The Turn Toward Dating Apps

The decision did not come in one dramatic moment. It came in small, quiet steps.

In the middle of the fifth year, after a particularly restless week, Pooja downloaded a dating app late one night. She used a new email address. She uploaded only two photographs — one modest, one slightly more open. She wrote almost nothing in the bio. She set the age filter to men between 28 and 35.

At first she only looked.  
She scrolled through profiles in the dark, heart beating faster than she wanted to admit. Some messages came. She ignored most of them. A few she answered carefully, cautiously, with short sentences.

She was not looking for love.  
She was not even sure she was looking for sex.  
She was looking for proof that she could still be chosen.

Most conversations died quickly. Some men were crude. Some were boring. A few were polite and interesting enough to keep talking for a few days. She never shared her real number. She never agreed to meet. The app remained a private, slightly dangerous window she opened only after the children were asleep.

Still, something inside her had shifted. The act of creating the profile, of receiving attention, of allowing herself to be seen as a woman rather than only a mother and an employee, loosened something that had been held tightly for five years.

She was still controlled.  
She was still careful.  
But she was no longer completely closed.

---

### The Final Months Before Matteo

In the last months of the fifth year, the restlessness grew sharper.  
Her gym sessions became more intense. Her clothes, while still respectable, fit more closely. She held eye contact a little longer with attractive younger men at work and at the gym. She still did not cross any physical line. But the private hunger had become harder to ignore.

Late at night, after using the vibrator, she sometimes opened the dating app again and scrolled without messaging anyone. She was waiting for something she could not yet name — a different kind of attention, a stronger presence, a man who would not treat her desire as something small or inconvenient.

That was the state she was in when Matteo’s profile finally appeared on her screen.

Five years of discipline, silence, private release, controlled fantasy, and carefully buried longing had brought her to the edge of a decision she had been slowly moving toward without fully admitting it.

She was ready — even if she did not yet know exactly what she was ready for.

---

[Vinis1]

Hello guys....
Need your support..this is real story...

[Vinis1]

Continuing from the End of the 5th Year – Rising Hunger & The Italian Match**

By the final months of her fifth year of separation, the careful balance Pooja had maintained for so long began to crack in earnest. The disciplined routine was still there — college runs, office, household, responsibility — but underneath it a restless, physical hunger had grown sharper and harder to ignore.

Nights became longer. After the children slept, she found herself restless. The vibrator that had once been a quiet, almost mechanical release now felt insufficient. She would finish and still lie awake, body tense, mind replaying the same unfinished fantasy: a taller man, stronger hands, a thicker cock, a voice that told her exactly what to do. She wanted to be wanted with force and certainty. She wanted to be taken out of her own careful control.

One Thursday night, after another unsatisfying session alone in her bedroom, she sat up, unlocked her phone, and downloaded three dating apps. Tinder. Bumble. Hinge. She used a secondary email. She chose two photographs carefully — one elegant, one a little more open — and wrote a short bio that was both honest and guarded:

“38. Corporate. Mother of two. Separated. Looking for real chemistry, intensity, and a man who knows how to take control. Discreet.”

She set the filters high: 28 to 34, 6'1" and above, fit. Then she began swiping.

Most profiles left her cold. Some were too soft. Some were crude. A few were attractive enough to message, but the conversations stayed polite and went nowhere. Still, the act of being seen again — of receiving attention as a woman rather than only as a mother or employee — stirred something that had been dormant for years.

---

### The Match

On the thirteenth night after she downloaded the apps, while lying in bed in a soft purple nightie, she saw his profile.

**Matteo Rossi**
31
Italian
Currently in Mumbai for a three-month work project
6'3"

The photographs stopped her scrolling. Sharp jawline, thick dark hair, intense eyes, lean muscular body with clear definition. In one gym mirror selfie the outline of his cock was visible beneath grey sweatpants — thicker and longer than she had allowed herself to imagine in a long time. She stared at the profile for several minutes, heart beating faster, a familiar heat already gathering low in her stomach.

She felt an immediate, almost frightening certainty.
This was the exact shape of the fantasy she had been feeding for months.

She sent the first message.

---

### Dating App Chat – The Beginning

**Pooja (10:47 PM):**
Hi Matteo. Saw you’re in Mumbai for work. How are you finding the city so far?

**Matteo (11:05 PM):**
Hey. Finally someone with a real smile. Mumbai is chaotic but beautiful. The food is dangerous for my gym routine. You look stunning in that purple dress photo — elegant, but something tells me there’s a wilder side.

**Pooja (11:12 PM):**
Maybe. Work keeps me busy during the day. Nights are quieter. Italian in India must be interesting.

**Matteo (11:28 PM):**
Quieter nights can be dangerous. I’m here for luxury brand events. Lots of meetings. Wouldn’t mind someone who could make the nights more memorable.

They continued for two days on the app — light, careful, exploratory. Food, city life, travel, work. Nothing explicit. Yet every message carried a low current of interest. Pooja felt it in her body. She began checking her phone more often than she wanted to admit.

---

### Moving to WhatsApp – The Shift

On the third day she suggested moving to WhatsApp. He agreed immediately.

The tone changed once they left the app.

Morning messages became regular. Evening conversations grew longer. He began complimenting her more directly — her eyes behind the glasses, the way she held herself in photographs, the quiet confidence in her smile. She found herself responding with small admissions.

**Matteo:**
You have the kind of face that looks soft in public and completely different when no one is watching. Am I wrong?

**Pooja:**
You’re not entirely wrong.

By the end of the first week on WhatsApp the conversation had become openly flirty. He asked for a better photograph. She hesitated for twenty minutes, then sent a mirror selfie in a fitted black top that showed the curve of her waist and the weight of her breasts. His reply was immediate and hungry.

**Matteo:**
Those curves are dangerous. You know exactly how to dress to make a man lose focus.

She stared at the message, already wet, and felt the last of her careful restraint begin to slip.

---

### Bold Exchange

Two nights later the chat turned visual.

He sent a clearer shirtless photograph — defined abs, the deep V-line at his hips, the heavy outline in his sweatpants unmistakable. She looked at it for a long time before answering.

**Pooja:**
You’re really built like that. That body looks like it could… handle a lot.

**Matteo:**
I can do more than handle. Your turn. Show me something bolder.

After the children were asleep she stood in front of her mirror, heart racing, and took a photograph in a low-cut nightie that revealed the side of her breast and the curve of her hip. She sent it before she could change her mind.

His response was raw.

**Matteo:**
Madonna. Your body is built for exactly what I’ve been thinking about. That ass. Those tits. I want to see more.

She sent one more — a back view, the fabric stretched across her rounded ass. His reply made her push her hand between her legs.

**Matteo:**
I would spank that ass red while fucking you from behind. You’re making me hard right now.

**Pooja:**
Good. I’m already wet reading that.

---

### The Long Dirty Night

On the nineteenth night the conversation stopped pretending.

It was past eleven. The house was silent. Pooja was in bed, nightie pushed up, phone in one hand, the other already moving slowly between her thighs.

**Matteo:**
Tell me what you actually want from a man in bed. Be honest.

She stared at the message for a long moment, then typed the truth she had been holding for years.

**Pooja:**
I want to be dominated. Thrown around. Spanked hard. My breasts sucked and bitten until they’re sore. I want a thick, long, veiny cock that stretches me and lasts. Multiple rounds. Raw. I want to feel owned.

**Matteo:**
My cock is 8.5 inches, thick, heavy veins. I can fuck for forty or fifty minutes without stopping. I will put you in every position, choke you lightly, use your mouth, your pussy, your ass if you let me. I will make you come until you can’t speak clearly. Is that what you need?

**Pooja:**
Yes. Exactly that. I need to be ruined for anyone else.

The chat became explicit and continuous. He asked for photographs. She sent them — breasts bare, dark nipples hard; later a lower shot that showed how wet she was. He described in detail what he would do to her. She touched herself openly while reading, moaning quietly into the pillow so the children would not hear. She came twice from the conversation alone, thighs shaking, phone still in her hand.

By the time they finally said goodnight it was nearly one in the morning. Pooja lay in the dark, body still pulsing, mind completely occupied by the Italian man on the other side of the city.

The careful, controlled woman of the past five years was still present.
But she was no longer in charge.

She was ready to meet him.

---

[Uvaaaa]

Update soon

[Yash120]

Nice start

[Vinis1]

Continue – Full Dirty Explosion & First Video Call**


The next morning Pooja woke up already wet.
The previous night’s conversation with Matteo had left her body restless. She lay in bed for several minutes with her hand between her thighs, two fingers moving slowly, replaying his words. She brought herself to a quiet orgasm before she even got out of bed, biting her lip so she wouldn’t make noise.

Throughout the workday she was distracted. Every time her phone vibrated she hoped it was him. Her nipples stayed sensitive under her formal blouse. By the time she returned home, helped the children with dinner and homework, and finally put them to bed around 10:30 PM, her body was already aching for more.

She locked her bedroom door, changed into the soft purple wrap dress she knew he liked, and left it loosely tied with nothing underneath. The lights were dimmed. She opened WhatsApp.

---

### The Long Dirty Session Begins (11:15 PM)

**Matteo:**
I’ve been hard thinking about you all day. Are you ready to be honest with me tonight?

**Pooja:**
Yes… the children are asleep. I’m wearing the purple dress you liked. Nothing underneath. I’m already wet.

What followed was a long, continuous, extremely explicit exchange. Matteo asked questions one after another. Pooja answered every single one while touching herself.

**Matteo:** How wet is your pussy right now on a scale of 1 to 10?
**Pooja:** 9… it’s already dripping down my thighs.

**Matteo:** When was the last time you were properly fucked?
**Pooja:** It’s been a long time. Nothing recent has come close to what I actually need.

**Matteo:** Do you like it raw?
**Pooja:** Yes. I want to feel everything. No barriers.

**Matteo:** How many times can you cum in one night when it’s really good?
**Pooja:** Many. I’m multi-orgasmic when someone knows how to handle me.

**Matteo:** Do you squirt?
**Pooja:** Yes… when I’m fucked hard enough or when my G-spot is pressed properly.

**Matteo:** Have you been choked during sex?
**Pooja:** Only lightly. I want to feel it done properly.

**Matteo:** Do you like your breasts slapped and bitten?
**Pooja:** Yes. I want them red and sensitive. I want teeth.

**Matteo:** How do you feel about your ass being played with?
**Pooja:** Tongue and fingers first. I’m open to more if it feels right.

**Matteo:** Send me a photo of your breasts in that dress.
She opened the front of the dress and sent a clear photo showing deep cleavage and the edge of her dark nipples.

**Matteo:** Those nipples look perfect. Pinch them hard for me and describe it.
**Pooja:** I’m pinching them now… it hurts in the best way. They’re getting stiffer.

**Matteo:** Spread your legs and show me how wet you are.
She obeyed and sent a close-up photograph. Her pussy was visibly swollen and shiny.

**Matteo:** Good girl. Do you swallow?
**Pooja:** Yes. I like the taste.

**Matteo:** Would you let me fuck you in front of a mirror so you can watch yourself getting stretched?
**Pooja:** Yes. I want to see it.

**Matteo:** How loud do you get when you cum hard?
**Pooja:** Very loud. I can’t stay quiet when it’s really good.

**Matteo:** Do you like being called dirty things?
**Pooja:** Yes… especially when I’m already wet. Call me whatever you want.

**Matteo:** How many rounds can you take in one night?
**Pooja:** Four or five if the man can last. After the second I become completely shameless.

**Matteo:** Will you beg for cum inside you?
**Pooja:** Yes. I’ll beg.

**Matteo:** Have you ever been fucked so thoroughly you felt it the next day?
**Pooja:** Not yet. I want that.

**Matteo:** Send a short video of you touching yourself.
She recorded a 25-second video — legs open, fingers moving, soft moans, his name under her breath — and sent it.

**Matteo:** Perfect. My cock is throbbing watching that. Do you want it raw every time?
**Pooja:** Yes. I want to feel every vein and every drop.

**Matteo:** Would you let me record us?
**Pooja:** Only if it stays between us. Then yes.

**Matteo:** What’s your strongest fantasy with me right now?
**Pooja:** Being completely dominated for hours. Choking, spanking, hair-pulling, multiple times inside me, making me lose control.

**Matteo:** Pussy or ass first?
**Pooja:** Pussy first. Destroy that. Then we’ll see.

**Matteo:** Send one more photo. Bend over and show me your ass.
She pulled the dress up, bent over in front of the mirror, and sent the photo.

**Matteo:** That ass is going to be red. I’m going to spank it while I fuck you from behind.
**Pooja:** Please… I want that.

**Matteo:** You’re mine now. Say it.
**Pooja:** I’m yours. This body is yours. I want your cock to ruin me.

The exchange continued without pause until nearly 2:50 a.m. Pooja came twice during the conversation, thighs shaking, phone still in her hand, trying to keep her voice low.

---

### 3:00 AM – First Video Call

Matteo switched to video.
Pooja answered immediately.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, purple dress open, breasts fully exposed, hair slightly messy, glasses still on. The soft lamp light made her skin look warm.

**Matteo** (shirtless, muscular chest and abs clearly visible, thick bulge obvious in his shorts):
Look at you. Show me properly.

Pooja stood up, let the dress fall completely to the floor, and turned slowly so he could see her full figure — heavy breasts, soft waist, rounded hips, and the wetness between her thighs.

**Pooja** (voice already breathy):
This is what you do to me… I’m so wet for you.

Matteo pushed his shorts down and freed his cock on camera. It was thick, heavily veined, and clearly larger than average. Pooja stared at it openly.

**Matteo:**
Stroke it with your eyes while you finger yourself. Do exactly what I say.

For the next thirty-five minutes they masturbated together on video. He gave clear instructions:

“Pinch your nipples harder.”
“Slap your breasts lightly.”
“Spread yourself and show me.”
“Say out loud who this pussy belongs to while you cum.”

Pooja followed every command. She came three times on the call — the second time hard enough that her thighs trembled visibly, the third time with a broken, high moan she tried to muffle against her forearm. A small wet patch formed on the sheet beneath her.

Matteo finished last, thick ropes of cum shooting across his stomach while he described in detail how he planned to fuck her when they finally met — deep, rough, repeated, and without holding back.

By 3:45 a.m. the call ended.
Pooja remained sitting on the bed, dress still around her waist, body flushed and sensitive, a small satisfied smile on her face. She did not clean up immediately. She simply lay back, legs still slightly open, and let the reality settle in.

She had crossed a line she had been approaching for five years.
And she already knew she was not going to turn back.

---

[Hotgiri]

Awasome update, please add gif to story

[Vinis1]

Let's continue she is now moving towards real meet who's she chatted through dating app and WhatsApp
---he is strenger till now..now going forward that will change...

Let's enjoy guy's.. wants like and comments please..

*****************

### The Decision to Meet

After the long, explicit video call that ended at nearly 4 a.m., something inside Pooja settled into certainty. She no longer wanted to keep this at the level of messages and screens. The five years of careful control, private release, and suppressed hunger had reached their limit.

The next evening, once the children were asleep, she opened the chat again.

**Pooja:**
I don’t want to wait anymore. I need to feel you for real.

**Matteo:**
Then we meet. This weekend. I’ll book a suite. Good hotel, private, high floor. You only need to come.

**Pooja:**
Coming Saturday night.

**Matteo:**
Send me your preferred area. I’ll handle everything. I want you already wet when you walk through the door.

They exchanged a few more practical messages — timing, location, what she should say if anyone asked. By the time she put the phone down, her hands were slightly unsteady. For the first time in five years she had committed to a night that belonged only to her desire.

On Friday she confirmed all schedule.On Saturday afternoon she showered slowly, shaved carefully, applied light perfume, and put on the tight maroon-purple wrap dress with the deep V-neck. No bra. No panties. By the time she sat in the cab her inner thighs were already slick.

---

### Arrival – 8:30 PM

The suite was on a high floor of a quiet 5-star hotel. When the door opened, Matteo stood there in a black fitted shirt, taller than she had expected even after the video calls. For a second they only looked at each other. Then he stepped aside to let her in, closed the door, and locked it.

The moment the lock clicked he pushed her back against the door.

His mouth covered hers — deep, demanding, tongue sliding against hers without hesitation. One hand gripped her waist; the other moved straight to her breasts, squeezing through the thin fabric, finding her nipples and pinching until a sharp sound left her throat.

**Matteo:**
You’re already shaking. How long have you been wet?

**Pooja** (breathless):
Since I left the house… longer than that, actually. Please don’t make me wait.

He pulled the zipper of the dress down in one slow movement. The fabric slid off her shoulders and fell to the floor. She stood in front of him completely naked except for the yellow heels — heavy breasts, dark nipples already tight, soft stomach, wide hips, thick thighs, and a round ass that he immediately gripped with both hands.

---

### Round 1 – Entrance & Against the Wall (Long)

Matteo turned her to face the wall, pressed her palms flat against it, and kicked her feet apart. He rubbed the thick head of his cock along her soaked slit, coating himself in her wetness, before pushing forward in one continuous, deep thrust.

The stretch forced a loud, broken cry from her.

**Pooja:**
Ah— fuck… you’re so thick… it’s filling me completely…

He fucked her standing with steady, powerful strokes. One hand stayed around her throat, firm but controlled; the other moved between spanking her ass and reaching around to squeeze and slap her breasts. Every thrust made her heavy tits bounce against the wall. The wet sound of his cock moving inside her was constant and obscene in the quiet suite.

**Matteo** (against her ear):
This is what you needed after five years? A real cock stretching you open?

**Pooja** (moaning freely):
Yes… harder… I’ve been empty for so long… don’t hold back…

He kept her in that position for a long time — deep, relentless strokes that made her legs tremble. When she came the first time it was sudden and violent; her forehead dropped against the wall and a clear splash of wetness hit the floor between her heels. He did not stop. He fucked her through the orgasm until her voice turned hoarse, then pulled out, turned her, and pushed her down to her knees.

He fed his cock into her mouth. She took it messily — saliva running down her chin, eyes watering — but she kept her lips sealed around him and let him use her throat. After several minutes he lifted her again, bent her over the narrow console table, and entered her from behind. This angle was even deeper. He gripped her hips and drove into her with short, hard thrusts while her breasts swung freely beneath her.

She came a second time bent over the table, crying out openly. Only then did he bury himself to the base and release the first thick load deep inside her. When he pulled out, cum immediately began to leak down her thighs in a slow, heavy stream.

---

### Round 2 – The Bed (Extended)

He carried her to the large bed and laid her on her back. For a long time he did nothing but work on her breasts — sucking, biting, leaving dark marks across the soft flesh and around both nipples until they were swollen and highly sensitive. Pooja held his head with both hands and arched into every pull of his mouth.

Only when her breasts were thoroughly marked did he push her knees back toward her shoulders and slide inside her again. The second penetration was slower at first, almost careful, then built into deep, grinding thrusts that pressed against her cervix. The mixture of his cum and her wetness made every movement loud and filthy.

**Matteo** (looking down at her):
Look at how easily you open for me now. This is what happens when a woman finally stops holding back.

**Pooja** (eyes unfocused, voice breaking):
Don’t stop… keep it deep… I want to feel another one inside me…

He stayed in that deep missionary position for more than half an hour, changing the angle slightly every few minutes, grinding against her clit, forcing her through multiple orgasms. She came four times — each one louder and less controlled than the last. On the final thrust he pushed as deep as the position allowed and emptied the second load directly against her cervix while she shook under him.

---

### Round 3 – Sofa (Detailed)

They moved to the large sofa. Pooja climbed on top without being told. She sank down onto him in one long, slow movement, taking every inch, and began to ride. At first her movements were careful. Then her hips found a harder rhythm — rising high and dropping heavily, grinding forward so her clit rubbed against him with every stroke.

Matteo held her waist and sucked on her breasts while she rode. Two fingers slid between her cheeks and pressed slowly into her ass. The added sensation made her drop her head back and moan without restraint.

**Pooja:**
It’s so deep like this… I can feel you everywhere… don’t let me stop…

She came twice while riding him. The second orgasm was strong enough that a clear gush of fluid spilled across his stomach. He held her hips down and thrust upward hard until he filled her a third time.

---

### Round 4 – Shower (Extended)

He carried her into the marble bathroom and turned on the large rain shower. Hot water ran over both of them. He pressed her back against the glass wall, lifted one of her legs high against his hip, and entered her again. The angle was sharp and relentless. Every thrust forced a cry from her throat.

They moved from the glass to the wide sink, where he bent her forward and fucked her from behind while she watched their reflection. Then he sat on the marble bench and pulled her down onto his cock so she could ride him under the falling water. He came inside her for the fourth time while her forehead rested against his and her voice broke into another orgasm.

---

### Round 5 – Balcony & Final Bed (Long Closing)

Sometime after midnight he took her out onto the private balcony. The city stretched below them in lights. He bent her over the railing, one hand covering her mouth, and fucked her from behind while the night air cooled their skin. Her muffled cries still carried a desperate edge.

Back inside, the final round on the bed was slower but no less intense. He kept her on her back, legs wrapped high around him, and moved with deep, deliberate strokes while looking into her eyes. When he came the fifth time he stayed buried inside her, kissing her through the pulses.

By 4:30 a.m. Pooja lay in the middle of the large bed, legs still open. Thick cum continued to leak from her in a slow, steady stream onto the sheets. Her breasts were covered in bite marks. Her ass carried the red shape of his hands. Her voice was almost gone.

She pulled him down beside her and rested one hand low on her stomach.

**Pooja** (hoarse, quiet, completely spent):
I’ve never been fucked like this in my life.
Not once in five years.
I feel open… finally.

She fell asleep with his cum still inside her and the heavy, satisfied weight of years of held-back need at last released.

---

[rp7575]

Great Update Keep It Up Bro

[Vinis1]

Continue.....

**Morning After – The Suite**


The first light of morning entered the suite slowly. Soft grey turned into pale gold across the white sheets. Outside, Mumbai was already moving, but inside the high-floor room everything remained quiet except for the low hum of the air-conditioner and the sound of two people breathing.

Pooja woke first.

For several seconds she did not move. Her body felt heavy in a way she had not experienced in years — not exhausted from work or children, but used. Satisfied. Marked. She could still feel the dull, pleasant ache between her legs and the tenderness in her breasts where his mouth and teeth had spent so much time. When she shifted slightly, a slow trickle of cum slid from her and warmed the inner skin of her thigh. The sensation made her close her eyes again.

Matteo was still asleep beside her, one heavy arm dbangd across her waist, his chest rising and falling against her back. She lay there for a long time just feeling the weight of him. Five years of sleeping alone made the simple presence of another body feel almost unreal.

Eventually she turned carefully in his arms. His eyes opened almost at once, dark and clear even in the early light.

**Matteo** (voice rough with sleep):
Morning.

**Pooja** (soft, a little hoarse):
Morning.

He did not speak again right away. Instead he leaned in and kissed her slowly — not the hungry, claiming kisses of the night before, but deeper, slower, tasting. His hand slid down her back, over the curve of her ass, and rested there. When the kiss broke, he looked at her body in the daylight.

Bite marks bloomed across her breasts and the soft skin of her neck. Faint red handprints still showed on her hips. Her nipples were darker and slightly swollen. Between her legs she was still open and messy with him.

**Matteo**:
You look thoroughly fucked.

**Pooja** (a small, tired smile):
I feel thoroughly fucked.

He kissed her again, then moved lower. This time there was no rush. He spent long minutes on her breasts, licking and sucking gently over the marks he had left, careful now where he had been rough before. Pooja’s fingers threaded into his hair. Soft sounds left her throat. When his mouth finally travelled down her stomach and settled between her thighs, she opened for him without hesitation.

He licked her slowly, thoroughly, cleaning his own cum from her while coaxing fresh wetness. Two fingers slid inside, curling, finding the sensitive place that made her hips lift. He kept the pace steady until her breathing broke and she came with a long, trembling sigh, thighs closing lightly around his head.

Only then did he move up her body and push inside her again.

The first thrust of the morning was deep and unhurried. She was still slick and open from the night, so he sank in easily to the base. They both exhaled at the same time. He stayed still for a moment, buried completely, forehead against hers.

**Matteo**:
Still so warm. Still taking me so well.

**Pooja** (eyes half-closed):
Don’t pull out yet… just stay.

He began to move — long, slow strokes that let her feel every thick inch. There was no frantic pace this time. It was deliberate, almost heavy, the kind of fucking that came after a night of excess when the body still wanted more but no longer needed to prove anything. Pooja wrapped her legs around him and held on. Every time he bottomed out she made a soft, broken sound against his shoulder.

They stayed like that for a long time. When she came again it was quieter than the night before, a deep rolling climax that left her shaking. He followed soon after, pushing deep and spilling inside her once more with a low groan. They remained joined afterward, neither in a hurry to separate.

---

Eventually hunger and the practical world returned.

Matteo ordered room service — eggs, toast, fresh fruit, strong coffee. They ate sitting up in bed, still naked, the sheets tangled around their legs. Pooja’s hair was messy. Her glasses sat slightly crooked on her nose. She looked softer than she had the night before, less tightly held together.

They talked in low voices while eating.

About the night.
About how long it had been since she had felt anything close to this.
About how strange it felt to wake up with someone else’s cum still inside her and not feel shame.

**Pooja** (quietly, looking at her coffee cup):
I kept thinking I would feel guilty this morning. I don’t. Not yet.

**Matteo**:
Good. Guilt can wait. You needed this.

She nodded, then leaned over and kissed him, tasting coffee and the faint salt of her own skin on his mouth.

After breakfast they showered together. The large marble shower filled with steam. He washed her carefully — shoulders, breasts, between her legs — while she leaned back against his chest. At one point he grew hard again against her. She turned, wrapped her hand around him, and stroked slowly until he came over her wet stomach with a quiet curse. She watched it happen with open curiosity, then rinsed them both clean.

---

By late morning the suite began to feel temporary again.

Pooja stood in front of the bathroom mirror and assessed the damage. The bite marks on her breasts would need careful clothing. The ache between her legs would remind her of him with every step. She put the purple dress back on — the same one she had arrived in — and smoothed it down. No bra. No panties again. The fabric clung to her in ways that felt different now that she knew what she looked like underneath it after being thoroughly used.

Matteo watched her dress from the bed, already in his black shirt and trousers.

**Matteo**:
You walking out of here like that?

**Pooja**:
Yes. I want to feel it while I leave.

He stood, crossed the room, and kissed her one more time — slower, deeper, with a finality that said the night was ending but the arrangement was not.

At the door he paused with his hand on the handle.

**Matteo**:
This isn’t the last time.

**Pooja** (meeting his eyes):
I know.

He opened the door. She stepped into the quiet hotel corridor, the yellow heels clicking softly on the marble. Behind her the suite door closed.

In the elevator she caught her reflection in the mirrored wall — hair slightly undone, lips still a little swollen, the deep V of the dress showing the edge of a dark mark on the upper curve of her breast. She did not adjust it.

Outside, the city noise returned. She got into a cab, gave the driver her sister’s address, and sat back against the seat. Between her legs she was still wet and open, a slow leak of him warming the soft skin of her thighs with every bump in the road.

Five years of emptiness had ended in one long night.
And she already knew she would be back.

---

[Vinis1]

**Continuing the Story – After the First hot meet**  


Pooja returned home late Sunday morning.  
. The house felt unnaturally quiet. She closed the door behind her, leaned against it for a moment, and simply breathed. Between her legs she was still tender and wet. Every step reminded her of him. When she finally went to the bathroom and removed the purple dress, she stood in front of the mirror for a long time. Bite marks darkened her breasts. Faint bruises coloured her hips. Dried cum streaked the soft skin of her inner thighs.

She cleaned herself slowly, almost reluctantly, as if washing him away felt wrong.

That afternoon the children returned. She cooked, listened to their stories, helped with homework, and performed every motherly duty with her usual calm. But inside, her mind had already left the house. Every quiet moment pulled her back to the suite — the weight of his body, the stretch of his cock, the way he had looked at her while he came inside her. By evening she felt almost feverish with the memory.

When the children finally slept, she locked her bedroom door and opened WhatsApp.

**Pooja:**  
I’m home. The house feels empty without you already.

**Matteo:**  
I can still smell you on my skin. How do you feel?

**Pooja:**  
Open. Used. Happy. I keep touching the marks you left.

That single exchange opened the floodgates.

---

### The New day's

From that night onward they spoke like people who had crossed a permanent line.  
The careful distance of the early dating-app days disappeared. They began talking for hours.

Mornings started with soft messages while she prepared the children’s breakfast.  
Evenings, after the house grew quiet, turned into long voice notes and video calls that often lasted until 1 or 2 a.m.

They spoke about ordinary things with the intensity of new lovers:

Favourite food – she loved simple home dal and rice but confessed a secret weakness for creamy Italian pasta; he described the exact way his mother made carbonara.  
Colours – she preferred deep maroon, black, and soft cream; he told her he wanted to see her only in colours that made her skin glow.  
Clothes – she admitted she had started choosing outfits thinking about what he would want to tear off her.  
Life – the loneliness of the past five years, the weight of raising two children alone, the quiet anger she still carried toward her husband.  
Marriage – she began, carefully at first, to say the words out loud: “Sometimes I think about ending it properly… about being free.”

Matteo never pushed, but he also never discouraged her. He listened. He asked questions. He told her what he wanted in a woman who would eventually share his life. The conversations felt dangerously close to future-planning.

At the same time the physical hunger between them only grew stronger.

---

### The Long TND Night

One night, after nearly two hours of ordinary talking, the tone shifted.

**Matteo:**  
Lock the door. I want answers tonight. Honest ones. No holding back.

**Pooja:**  
Door’s locked. I’m ready.

What followed was a long, relentless questioning that lasted well over an hour. She answered every single one while her hand moved between her legs.

1. How often do you touch yourself thinking about me now?  
→ Every night. Sometimes twice.

2. Do you still get wet at work remembering my cock?  
→ Yes. I have to press my thighs together in meetings.

3. Have you looked at your husband differently since I fucked you?  
→ Yes. He feels smaller in every way.

4. Do you want me to breed you for real?  
→ Yes… the thought makes me drip.

5. How many times did you cum that first night?  
→ I lost count after the fifth.

6. Did you like when I choked you?  
→ Yes. I want it harder next time.

7. Do you want me to slap your tits until they’re red?  
→ Yes. Mark them again.

8. Have you tasted your own cum mixed with mine?  
→ Yes. I licked it off my fingers the next morning.

9. Do you want me to fuck your ass?  
→ I’m scared but I want to try with you.

10. Would you let me record us?  
→ Only for us. Then yes.

11. How loud can you get when no one is home?  
→ Very loud. I want to scream next time.

12. Do you want me to pull your hair while I fuck you from behind?  
→ Yes. Hard.

13. Have you worn the purple dress again?  
→ Not yet. I’m saving it for you.

14. Do you touch your pussy when we talk on the phone?  
→ Almost every time after the children sleep.

15. Do you want me to eat you for an hour straight?  
→ Yes. I almost came just from the thought.

16. Would you suck my cock after it’s been inside you?  
→ Yes. I want to taste us.

17. Do you want me to fuck you in front of a mirror?  
→ Yes. I want to watch my face while you stretch me.

18. How do you feel about being called my married whore?  
→ It makes me wetter.

19. Do you want multiple creampies in one night again?  
→ Yes. Fill me until it leaks down my legs.

20. Have you thought about leaving your husband for me?  
→ Yes. More and more every day.

21. Do you want me to dominate you completely for a full weekend?  
→ Yes. No work. No children. Only us.

22. Would you let me tie your hands?  
→ Yes.

23. Do you like slow deep strokes or hard fast pounding more?  
→ Both. Start slow, then ruin me.

24. Have you fingered your ass thinking about me?  
→ Yes. Twice.

25. Do you want me to make you squirt again?  
→ Please.

26. Would you go on your knees the moment you enter the room next time?  
→ Yes.

27. Do you want me to talk about breeding you while I fuck you?  
→ Yes… it drives me crazy.

28. How many days can you stay wet for me without being touched?  
→ Apparently all of them.

29. Do you want me to send you voice notes of me stroking my cock?  
→ Yes. I listen to them on repeat.

30. Will you open your legs the second I tell you to on video?  
→ Immediately.

31. Do you want me to fuck you so deep you feel it in your stomach?  
→ Yes.

32. Have you stopped touching yourself to anyone else?  
→ Completely. Only you.

33. Do you want me to own that pussy from now on?  
→ It already feels like yours.

34. Will you beg for my cum next time?  
→ I’ll beg.

35. Are you ready for me to book the next hotel?  
→ Yes. Please. Soon.

By the time the questions ended she had come three times. Her thighs were shaking. The sheets beneath her were damp. She lay on her back afterwards, phone still against her ear, listening to him breathe.

**Pooja** (quiet, wrecked):  
I think I’m falling for you. And it scares me how much I want this.

**Matteo:**  
Good. Stay scared. Stay wet. I’m booking the next suite.

---

### continuing Deepening

The following days blurred into a constant low-level intoxication.  
They spoke every free moment. Morning voice notes. Afternoon photos. Late-night video calls where she sometimes sat naked for him while he watched her touch herself. Soft conversations about the future mixed freely with filth.

She began imagining divorce papers.  
She began imagining introducing him to her children one day.  
She began imagining a life where she no longer had to hide.

At the same time the physical need became almost painful. She woke up wet. She pressed her thighs together in office meetings. She touched herself in the shower more than once a day. Every night she fell asleep with his name in her mouth.

One of  the evening almost 18th day first real meet the message finally arrived.

**Matteo:**  
Next Saturday. Same hotel. Different suite. Higher floor. Be there at 8:30. Wear something easy to remove. Nothing underneath. I’m going to take my time with you.

**Pooja:**  
I’ll be there. I already feel empty waiting.

She put the phone down, lay back on the bed, and stared at the ceiling with a racing heart.  
Fifteen days of talking, confessing, fantasising and orgasming to his voice had only made the hunger sharper.

The second meeting was six days away.

And this time she was not arriving as a curious, starved woman testing the water.  
She was arriving as a woman who had already decided she wanted to be ruined again — and perhaps kept.

---

[Vinis1]

Continue Second Hotel Meeting – Night One


The lie had been simple and effective.  
Pooja told her parents that she had a mandatory two-day corporate offsite in another city. The children were already at her parents’ house with packed bags and excited faces. No one questioned her. At 7:40 p.m. she left her own home with a small trolley bag that contained three bold one-piece dresses, two sets of Victoria’s Secret lingerie, a pair of thin black leggings, a tight crop top, high heels, and the purple wrap dress from the first night as a spare.

The hotel was a quiet 7-star property on the edge of the city, all dark wood, soft lighting, and thick carpets that swallowed the sound of her heels. Matteo had checked in earlier. When she messaged him from the lobby he replied with only the room number and the words:  
**Door is open. Come straight up.**

She walked down the long corridor with her heart beating hard against her ribs. The suite door was indeed ajar. She pushed it open and stepped inside.

The room was larger than the previous one — a wide living area, a dining table, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a massive bed already turned down. Matteo stood near the window in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The moment the door clicked shut behind her he crossed the space in three long strides.

There was no small talk.

He took her face in both hands and kissed her deeply, tongue sliding into her mouth with slow, deliberate hunger. The dark lipstick she had applied carefully smeared across both their mouths within seconds. His hands moved down her back, gripped her ass through the simple dress she had worn for travel, and pulled her hard against him so she could feel he was already thick and ready.

**Matteo** (against her lips):  
Two full days. No children. No interruptions. You’re mine until Monday morning.

**Pooja** (breathless):  
I know. I planned everything for this.

He released her only long enough for her to step back and open her bag. She pulled out a deep emerald-green one-piece with a plunging neckline and high-cut hips. Without shyness she stripped off the travel dress and stood in front of him in only her heels while she stepped into the new outfit. The fabric clung to every curve — the heavy weight of her breasts, the soft dip of her waist, the full roundness of her hips and ass. She adjusted the thin straps, smoothed the material down, and looked at him.

**Pooja**:  
Take photos first. I want to remember how I looked before you ruin this dress.

Matteo’s eyes darkened. He took his phone and directed her.

She posed against the window, one hand on the glass, chest pushed forward.  
She turned and looked over her shoulder so the high-cut back framed the lower curve of her ass.  
She sat on the edge of the bed with her legs slightly open.  
She knelt on the mattress and arched.  

Each time the camera clicked he gave a low sound of approval. After more than a dozen photographs he put the phone down and walked to her.

---

### Thirty Minutes of Slow Foreplay

He did not rush.

He stood behind her and kissed the side of her neck, open-mouthed and slow, while his hands slid up from her waist to cup her breasts through the thin fabric. He found her nipples and rolled them between his fingers until they stood out hard against the emerald material. Then he moved to her ear, biting the lobe gently before sucking it. Pooja’s head fell back against his shoulder.

He turned her, kissed her again — deeper this time, spoiling what remained of her lipstick completely — and walked her backward until her thighs hit the bed. He guided her to sit, then knelt between her legs.

For a long time he only kissed and sucked the soft skin of her inner thighs, moving higher by centimetres. When he finally reached the centre of her he pressed his mouth over the fabric of the one-piece and breathed heat against her already wet pussy. She gasped. He licked her through the material until a dark patch spread, then hooked two fingers under the crotch and pulled it aside.

The first direct contact of his tongue made her hips jerk.

He ate her slowly and thoroughly — long flat strokes, focused suction on her clit, two fingers sliding inside and curling upward. He kept the same unhurried rhythm for nearly twenty minutes while she trembled and moaned above him. When she came the first time it was with a broken cry and a hard pulse around his fingers. He did not stop. He licked her through it until she had to push at his head, oversensitive.

Only then did he stand, strip off his own clothes, and free his cock. It was already fully hard, thick, heavily veined, the head dark and wet.

---

### First Round – Approximately Fifty Minutes

He did not remove the one-piece yet.

He pushed the thin straps off her shoulders, freed her breasts, and left the rest of the garment bunched around her waist. Then he laid her back, hooked her knees over his elbows, and pushed inside her in one long, continuous thrust.

**Pooja** (voice already high):  
Ahh— fuck… I forgot how thick you are…

He fucked her in that deep missionary position with steady, powerful strokes, watching her breasts bounce with every impact. The emerald fabric stayed bunched at her waist, framing the place where their bodies joined. After a long stretch he pulled out, turned her onto her side, lifted one leg high, and entered her again from behind. The new angle made her fist the sheets.

**Matteo** (low, close to her ear):  
Still so tight. Still taking every inch like you were made for it.

**Pooja**:  
Harder… please… I’ve been empty since the last time…

He gave her harder. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the suite. When he finally pulled the one-piece the rest of the way down her legs and threw it aside, she was fully naked except for her heels. He moved her through position after position without ever fully leaving her body:

- Doggy on the edge of the bed, one hand in her hair, the other spanking her ass in sharp, rhythmic slaps.  
- Her on top, riding him with her hands braced on his chest while he sucked and bit her breasts.  
- Standing beside the bed, one of her legs hooked high over his arm while he thrust upward.  
- Back to missionary with her knees pressed to her shoulders so he could grind against her cervix.

She came the second time while he was behind her, a long shaking orgasm that made her drop her face into the mattress and cry out loudly into the expensive sheets. He fucked her through it and kept going.

The entire round lasted close to fifty minutes. His stamina had not lessened. When he finally pulled out it was only to stroke himself twice and finish across her face and the upper curve of her breasts. Thick ropes of cum landed on her lips, her cheeks, her chin, and the soft slope of her tits. The quantity shocked her — more than she remembered, heavy and warm.

She lay there breathing hard, eyes open, watching the white streaks slowly slide down her skin. One slow drop reached the corner of her mouth. She licked it without thinking.

**Pooja** (voice rough, almost wondering):  
There’s so much… it’s still coming out of you.

Matteo looked down at her — messy hair, ruined lipstick, cum on her face and breasts, legs still open, the emerald one-piece lying forgotten on the floor — and gave a dark, satisfied smile.

**Matteo**:  
Two full days. That was only the first round.

Outside the heavy curtains the city continued its night. Inside the suite, Pooja wiped a streak of cum from her cheek with one finger, looked at it, and then looked back up at the man who had just claimed her again.

She was already wet for the next one.

---

[Vinis1]

The first round had left Pooja lying on her back in the middle of the large bed, face and breasts streaked with thick cum, the emerald one-piece discarded on the floor. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Matteo stood at the edge of the mattress looking down at her, still hard, the heavy length of his cock glistening.

He did not give her long to recover.

**Matteo** (voice low and rough):
On your knees. Clean me.

Pooja rolled over and crawled to him without hesitation. She took his thick cock in both hands and licked the remaining cum from the head, then opened her mouth and sank down. She sucked him slowly at first, tasting herself mixed with him, then deeper, letting saliva run down the shaft. Matteo watched her with dark eyes, one hand resting on the back of her head but not forcing.

**Matteo**:
Good girl. Get it wet again. I’m going to use you harder this time.

When he pulled her off his cock it left her lips shiny and swollen. He pushed her onto her back, spread her thighs wide, and dropped between them. There was nothing gentle about the way he ate her this time. He sucked her clit hard, pushed two fingers inside her, and curled them roughly while his tongue worked. Pooja’s back arched off the bed.

**Pooja** (already moaning):
Ahh— fuck… your mouth…

He kept her there until her thighs trembled and she came with a sharp cry, wetness coating his lips and chin. Only then did he rise, wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, and drag her to the edge of the bed.

He entered her in one hard thrust.

The stretch forced a loud, broken sound from her throat. This round had none of the earlier patience. He fucked her with deep, powerful strokes, hands gripping the soft flesh of her hips hard enough to leave new marks. The wet slap of his body against hers filled the suite.

**Matteo** (thrusting steadily):
Look at me. Whose pussy is this?

**Pooja** (eyes half-lidded, voice shaking):
Yours… it’s yours…

**Matteo**:
Louder.

**Pooja**:
It’s yours— ah fuck— your cock owns it—

He pulled out suddenly.
**Matteo**:
Suck.

She scrambled up and took him into her mouth again, tasting her own wetness on his shaft. She bobbed her head quickly, messy and eager, until he pulled her off by the hair and turned her around.

He pushed her onto all fours and slammed back inside.

The new angle made her drop her face into the sheets and cry out. He spanked her ass hard — once, twice, three times — each slap sharp and loud. Then he gripped her hips and pounded her with short, brutal strokes that made her whole body jolt forward.

**Matteo**:
Do you like being fucked like a whore after five years of nothing?

**Pooja** (moaning into the mattress):
Yes— yes I do— don’t stop—

**Matteo**:
Tell me what you want.

**Pooja**:
Harder… fuck me harder… use me…

He delivered. The pace became almost punishing. When he reached under her and rubbed her clit roughly she came again, thighs shaking, a broken scream muffled by the sheets. He fucked her through it without slowing.

Again he pulled out.
**Matteo**:
Mouth.

She turned, took him between her lips, and sucked greedily, saliva dripping down her chin and onto her breasts. He let her clean him for only a short time before lifting her bodily and carrying her to the large sofa in the living area of the suite.

He sat down and pulled her onto his lap facing him. She sank down onto his cock with a long, open-mouthed moan. He gripped her ass and bounced her hard, forcing her to take every thick inch on every downward movement. Her heavy breasts swayed in front of his face; he caught one nipple in his mouth and bit down.

**Matteo** (between bites):
Are you going to leave your husband for this cock?

**Pooja** (riding desperately):
I— ah— I’m thinking about it every day—

**Matteo**:
Not thinking. Say it properly.

**Pooja**:
I want to leave him… I want this… I want you to keep fucking me like this—

He stood up still inside her, carried her to the floor-to-ceiling window, and pressed her back against the cool glass. The city lights blurred behind her. He hooked one of her legs high over his arm and thrust upward with brutal force. The new position made her cry out loudly against his neck.

**Matteo**:
Does it feel deeper like this?

**Pooja**:
Yes— so deep— you’re in my stomach—

**Matteo**:
Good. Take it.

He kept her there for a long stretch, fucking her hard enough that her bare shoulders squeaked against the glass. When her moans turned into continuous broken sounds he pulled out once more and pointed down.

She dropped to her knees on the thick carpet and took him into her mouth again, sucking with complete surrender, eyes watering, spit running down her neck. He watched her for almost a full minute before hauling her up, bending her over the back of the sofa, and entering her from behind for the final stretch of the round.

This time he did not hold back at all.
One hand twisted in her hair, the other spanked her ass in rhythm with his thrusts. The wet, filthy sound of their bodies filled the entire suite.

**Matteo** (voice rough):
Who owns this married cunt?

**Pooja** (screaming):
You— you own it—

**Matteo**:
Who’s going to fill it?

**Pooja**:
You— please fill me— please—

He lasted longer than she expected. When he finally came it was with a deep, guttural sound, burying himself to the base and pumping thick ropes of cum deep inside her. The volume of it made her moan in shock; she could feel every pulse. He stayed locked against her until the last spurt finished, then slowly pulled out.

Cum immediately began to leak from her in a heavy stream, running down the inside of both thighs and dripping onto the carpet between her high heels.

Pooja remained bent over the sofa, panting, hair wild, ass red from his hands, pussy still twitching open. Matteo ran one palm slowly over the warm skin of her backside, then down between her legs, gathering some of the mess on his fingers and pushing it back inside her.

**Matteo** (quietly, almost darkly pleased):
Still so greedy. We’re not even finished with the first night.

Pooja turned her head enough to look at him over her shoulder. Her lipstick was completely ruined, her eyes glassy, her voice almost gone.

**Pooja**:
Then don’t stop.

Outside the sealed windows the city continued, unaware.
Inside the suite the air smelled of sex and sweat, and the second round had only sharpened the hunger rather than satisfied it.

---

[Vinis1]

**✅ Day 2 – Morning Shower**


Morning light filtered through the edges of the heavy curtains.
Pooja woke to the sound of water running. The space beside her on the large bed was empty, the sheets still warm and tangled. For a moment she simply lay there, feeling the pleasant ache between her legs and the dull tenderness in her breasts and ass from the night before. Then she rose, naked, and followed the sound of the shower.

The bathroom was already filled with soft steam. Matteo stood under the wide rain shower, water cascading over his shoulders and down the hard lines of his body. Pooja paused in the doorway and watched him for several seconds — the broad back, the narrow waist, the thick muscles of his thighs and ass. When he turned and saw her, he said nothing. He only held out one hand.

She stepped under the water with him.

The heat immediately soaked her hair and ran down her skin. She placed both palms on his chest and slowly dragged them downward, feeling every ridge of muscle, the firmness of his stomach, the deep V that led lower. Her fingers traced the lines with open appreciation.

**Pooja** (voice still rough from sleep and the previous night):
I love your body… the way it feels under my hands.

She sank to her knees on the warm marble without being asked. Water streamed over her face and shoulders as she took his cock in both hands. It was already heavy and thickening. She kissed the tip, then opened her mouth and sank down, letting the water and her saliva mix as she sucked him. She worked slowly at first, then deeper, one hand stroking what her mouth could not take, the other cupping his balls. Matteo rested one hand on the wet wall and looked down at her, jaw tight.

**Matteo**:
That’s it… take it deeper.

She did. The wet heat of the shower made everything slicker. She bobbed her head with growing hunger, eyes half-closed, soft wet sounds rising even above the water. When he was fully hard and glistening she pulled off, kissed the shaft once more, and stood.

He turned her immediately.

---

### Pose 1 – Standing, Face to Face

Matteo lifted one of her thighs high against his hip and pushed inside her in a single smooth, deep thrust. The sudden stretch forced a loud gasp from her throat. Water ran between their bodies as he began to fuck her standing, one arm locked under her leg, the other braced on the wall beside her head. Each upward thrust lifted her slightly onto her toes.

**Pooja** (moaning against his wet shoulder):
Fuck… it’s so deep like this…

**Matteo**:
Feel every inch. This is how you get fucked in the morning.

He kept the pace steady and strong, the wet slap of their skin mixing with the sound of the shower. Her heavy breasts pressed and slid against his hard chest. She clung to him, fingers digging into the muscles of his back and shoulders, feeling them flex with every movement.

---

### Pose 2 – From Behind (Standing Doggy)

After a long stretch he pulled out, turned her to face the marble wall, and pushed her upper body forward. She braced both hands on the cool surface. He entered her again from behind in one hard thrust that made her cry out. The new angle felt even thicker. He gripped her wet hips and began to pound her with short, powerful strokes, water splashing around them with every impact.

**Pooja** (voice rising):
Ah— yes— just like that— harder—

**Matteo** (leaning over her, mouth close to her ear):
You’ve never been fucked standing in a shower before, have you?

**Pooja**:
Never… not like this… no one ever—

He spanked her wet ass once, sharply, then again. The sound cracked through the steamy air. She pushed back to meet every thrust, her breasts swaying heavily beneath her. The combination of the heat, the water, and the relentless depth made her legs tremble.

---

### Pose 3 – Lifted Against the Wall

When her thighs began to shake in earnest he pulled out, turned her, and lifted her completely off the floor as if she weighed nothing. Her back met the marble wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist on instinct. He thrust back inside her in the same motion and pinned her there, one arm under her ass, the other braced beside her head.

Then he fucked her.

Deep, hard, upward strokes that drove the air from her lungs. Their mouths met in a messy, open kiss — tongues sliding, water running between them, her ruined lipstick from the night before long gone. She could feel every thick inch moving inside her, every flex of the muscles in his shoulders and arms as he held her up and pounded her against the wall.

**Pooja** (breaking the kiss, almost sobbing with pleasure):
I’ve never been fucked like this in my life… never… you’re so strong… it’s so deep—

**Matteo** (voice rough, still thrusting):
Take it. This is what you needed for five years.

**Pooja**:
Yes— yes I needed this— don’t stop— please don’t stop—

She came hard, legs tightening around him, a broken cry echoing off the marble. He fucked her through it without slowing, the wet heat of the shower making every movement slick and filthy. When her orgasm finally loosened its grip he continued, chasing his own, until he buried himself to the base and emptied thick pulses of cum deep inside her with a low, guttural sound.

He held her there against the wall for a long moment afterward, still inside her, both of them breathing hard under the falling water. Slowly he let her feet return to the floor. Cum immediately began to leak down her inner thighs, washed away in pale streaks by the shower.

Pooja leaned her forehead against his wet chest, palms still resting on the hard muscles of his stomach.

**Pooja** (quiet, almost wondering):
I didn’t know it could feel like this… standing… held up… completely full…

Matteo tilted her chin up and kissed her once, slower now.

**Matteo**:
Good. Remember it. We still have the rest of the day and another night.

Outside the fogged glass the morning continued.
Inside the shower, Pooja stayed pressed against him, legs unsteady, already aware that the ache between her thighs would follow her for hours — and that she wanted it to.

---

[Vinis1]

Let's continue....

**Full Day in the Suite**

After the shower they dried each other slowly with the large white hotel towels. Pooja’s legs were still unsteady. Matteo’s hands lingered on her hips and the soft curve of her ass as he patted her dry. They did not get dressed. He ordered a full breakfast to the room — eggs, toast, fresh fruit, yoghurt, strong coffee, and cold juice — and they ate sitting on the disordered bed, still naked, the sheets pulled loosely around their waists.

They spoke quietly while eating.
About how sore she already felt.
About how she had never been held up and fucked against a wall before.
About how strange and good it felt to have an entire day with no children, no work, and no need to hide.

By the time the plates were pushed aside, the air between them had thickened again.

---

### Round 1 – Living Area Sofa

Matteo took the coffee cup from her hand and set it down. He kissed her with deliberate hunger, tasting sugar and fruit on her tongue. Then he guided her to the large sofa in the living area of the suite. He sat first and pulled her down so she straddled him. She sank onto his already hard cock with a long, open sigh.

She rode him slowly at first, hands braced on his shoulders, feeling the hard muscles flex under her palms. He sucked one breast and then the other, biting the nipples just hard enough to make her gasp. When she tried to keep the pace gentle he gripped her hips and forced her down harder, making her take every thick inch on every stroke.

**Matteo**:
Look at you. Still greedy after the shower.

**Pooja** (moaning):
I can’t help it… you feel too good inside me…

She came once while riding him, forehead dropped against his, thighs trembling. He kept her moving through it until she whimpered from sensitivity. Only then did he lift her off, turn her around, and push her onto her hands and knees on the sofa cushions. He entered her from behind in one deep thrust and fucked her with steady, powerful strokes while one hand reached under to rub her clit. The wet sound of their bodies filled the open living space.

---

### Round 2 – Floor-to-Ceiling Window

He pulled out while she was still shaking and walked her to the wide window. The city stretched far below. He pressed her breasts against the cool glass, kicked her feet apart, and slid back inside her from behind. The contrast of the cold glass and his hot cock made her cry out.

He fucked her hard against the window, one hand in her hair, the other gripping her hip. Every thrust pushed her tighter against the glass. Her breath fogged the surface in broken patches.

**Matteo** (against her ear):
Anyone looking up would see exactly how you take cock.

**Pooja**:
I don’t care… just don’t stop…

She came again with her palms squeaking against the glass, a long trembling orgasm that left her knees weak. He held her up and continued until he was close, then pulled out, turned her, and pushed her down to her knees. She took him into her mouth immediately, sucking the thick shaft clean of her own wetness while he finished across her tongue and lips with a low groan.

---

### Short Break

They drank water.
Pooja cleaned her face with a warm cloth.
Matteo watched her the entire time, already half-hard again.

---

### Round 3 – Dining Table

He lifted her onto the long dining table in the suite, spread her legs wide, and ate her openly. There was nothing soft about it this time — deep, hungry licking, two fingers pumping inside her, the wet sounds loud in the quiet room. She came on his tongue with a broken cry, fingers twisted in his hair.

Before she fully recovered he stood, hooked her knees over his elbows, and thrust into her. The table edge pressed against her ass as he fucked her with deep, angled strokes. Her breasts bounced heavily with every impact. She braced herself on her elbows and watched his cock disappear inside her again and again.

**Pooja** (voice high):
It’s so deep like this… fuck—

He changed the angle, pushing her knees higher toward her chest, and drove into her until she came once more, louder than before. Only then did he pull out and finish across the soft skin of her stomach and the underside of her breasts, thick ropes marking her.

---

### Lunch Break

They ordered a proper lunch and forced themselves to eat at the same table he had just fucked her on. Conversation drifted between ordinary things and filthy recollections of the morning. By the time the plates were cleared, both of them were restless again.

---

### Round 4 – The Bed (Longer Session)

They returned to the large bed. This round lasted longer and moved through several positions without truly stopping.

He started between her legs again, sucking and licking until she was dripping and begging. Then he flipped her onto her stomach and took her from behind, chest pressed to her back, one hand under her rubbing her clit. After she came he turned her onto her side, lifted her top leg, and fucked her slowly and deeply while kissing her neck and shoulder. Later he put her on top and let her ride until her thighs burned, then took control again, holding her hips and thrusting upward hard.

Dirty talk ran through the entire stretch.

**Matteo**:
Tell me how many times you’ve come today already.
**Pooja**:
I don’t know… five? Six? I’ve lost count…
**Matteo**:
Good. Keep counting.

When he finally finished it was deep inside her, both of them slick with sweat, her voice almost gone.

---

### Round 5 – Carpet / Floor

After a short rest he pulled her down onto the thick carpet in the living area. She sucked him back to full hardness on her hands and knees, looking up at him the entire time. Then he moved behind her and fucked her in a deep, animal doggy style on the floor, one hand pressing between her shoulder blades so her chest stayed low and her ass stayed high. The position made every thrust feel thicker. She came hard with her cheek against the carpet, fingers clawing at the fibres.

---

### Round 6 – Bathroom Vanity

He carried her into the bathroom and bent her over the wide marble vanity. The large mirror showed everything — her flushed face, swinging breasts, the place where his cock stretched her open. He made her watch while he fucked her. The sight alone pushed her into another orgasm. He followed soon after, pulling out at the last moment and finishing across the small of her back and the upper curve of her ass.

---

### Round 7 – Evening / Final Bed Round

By the time night fully settled over the city they had eaten a light dinner and showered once more. The final round of the day returned to the bed and began slower, almost tender, before turning heavy and deep again. He kept her on her back, knees pushed high, and moved with long, grinding strokes that forced broken sounds from her throat with every impact. She came twice more — once quietly, once with a raw cry she could no longer control.

When he finished inside her for the last time that day he stayed buried deep, forehead against hers, both of them breathing hard.

Pooja’s entire body felt used and open and satisfied in a way she had never known. Marks covered her breasts, hips, and ass. Her voice was hoarse. Between her legs she was swollen, slick, and still leaking him.

**Pooja** (whispering, almost dazed):
I’ve never been fucked like this in my entire life… not even close.

**Matteo** (kissing the corner of her mouth):
Good. Remember every hour of it. We still have tomorrow morning.

Outside the suite the city lights glittered.
Inside, Pooja curled against his chest, legs still weakly open, and let the full weight of the day settle into her bones. Seven rounds. Every corner of the room. More orgasms than she could cleanly count. And still the quiet knowledge that she would wake up wanting him again.

---