Adultery Talk and Action by misterwho

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"So what happened?" he asked.

"Why do you want to know all that?" she protested.

"That is also part of the deal," he reminded her. That was true. She had promised to tell him every detail.

"I was in the kitchen," she explained. "I was clearing up the kitchen and he came up to me."

She had been shy. He came up from behind and hugged her, his hands claiming her breasts. She struggled to get away. The professor squeezed the breasts, marveling that one of those globes would not fit in one of his hands. He lifted them, rotated them and pressed them.

"Mmmm!" she had murmured. But this, she did not tell Sunil. Nor did she tell him that she pushed back against the professor, finding his erection with her ass. She ground her perfect, round bottom on his cock.

"I asked him if that did he not have to get back to college," she told Sunil, swaying gently. As she swayed her dupatta fell, unveiling her swinging breasts. As she looked into the screen suggestively, the heavy orbs swung. Sunil's eyes riveted on them. He imagined the professor's hands on them. He imagined his own hands on them.

"Then?" asked Sunil.

"Then he did something he had never done before," she said, smiling demurely. "With one of this hands he reached lower and he stroked the entire area of my pussy with his palm." She omitted to tell him that she had reached back and found the outline of the professor's cock.

"I do have to go," the professor had said. Through the fabric of his pants she managed to locate the head of his cock and her thumb and fingers squeezed on it. He managed to slide his forefinger easily into his wife's pussy as she lowered herself, widening the opening to his hands.

They stimulated each other and quivered in lust. "We have never done this before," she sighed achingly to the professor.

He had whispered into her ear, "No, never!"

What she did mention to Sunil was that they went to the bedroom. She did not tell him that the route to the bedroom was marked by her unraveled saree, her blouse, her bra, her panties and panting they fell on the bed.

He mounted her in a hurry. The professor entered in one swift stroke. He pounded into her establishing quickly the rhythm man and wife were used to.

"Did it last the usual twenty minutes?" asked Sunil, at once excited and jealous.

"No," she replied shyly. "He was more intense and adventurous than usual."

Fresh juices welled up within her and her cunt flowed freely once again, worsening the need to cleanup. But Sunil was not letting her go.

Her mind went back to the unusual behavior the professor had exhibited that day. After thumping into her, he pulled back. Leaving her gasping he withdrew fully. He hoisted one of her legs over his shoulder to give him more access and hammered his wife's now-gaping cunt.

Nalini whimpered under the assault and felt her pussy turn to a pulsating, vibrating jelly. Just when she had thought she could take no more, the professor left her again. This time the vacantness was unbearable.

She screamed low in her throat when the professor returned to her cunt - not with his cock but with his tongue. He lapped at her furiously, his face quickly messing up with the aromatic flavors of her pussy.

His cock though missed her throbbing cunt and just when Nalini was feeling the onset of one more orgasm he left her, babbling like a mad woman. The professor dried himself with one end of her saree and entered her again roughly. He pounded her. The cock was on a rampage. Then the tongue. Cock. Tongue. Cock. She exploded in a huge orgasm, once with the tongue and then man and wife came together, drenching, collapsing in a quivering heap.

She had smiled lovingly at her husband the professor. She kissed him tenderly. He had become an expert. "What, professor sahib?" she said cooingly. " Becoming an expert in your old age?"

She did not tell Sunil any of this.

But they were in some subliminal manner, connected. Her eyes, even across space and spanning the digital world, told him that there was much she was not telling him.

He closed his eyes. He imagined Nalini, his Nalini. Not the Nalini the professor had married. Not the Nalini he had found a few weeks. 'This' Nalini, his Nalini. Voluptuous and yet divine. Impish and yet innocent. Mischievous, yet naïve.