Adultery My fiancé climbs the corporate ladder

[incest_cuck]

The atmosphere in the room shifts palpably as Supratim's demeanor changes, his movements becoming more forceful, more primal. He grips Anita's hips roughly, pulling her flush against him as his mouth crashes down on hers. The kiss is hungry, almost bruising in its intensity.

"Mmmmph!" Anita's muffled moan of surprise quickly transforms into a low, throaty sound of pleasure. Her body arches involuntarily, pressing closer to Supratim's hairy, muscular frame. As his tongue plunders her mouth, Anita lets out a series of soft, needy whimpers. "Nnnghhh... ahhhhh..." The sounds are barely audible, swallowed up by Supratim's demanding lips.

When he finally breaks the kiss to trail his mouth along her jaw, Anita gasps for air. "Oh god, Supratim!", she breathes, her tone a mixture of desire and desperation. Her body stiffens slightly, the pleasure warring with her sense of loyalty. Anita whimpers, her hands pushing against his chest in a feeble attempt at resistance. "Supratim, please... we can't..." Her voice trembles, caught between desire and guilt.  

But her protests are silenced as he tangles his fingers in her hair, tugging sharply. "Ahhhhhh! Nnnnnggghhhhh..." The sound escapes her lips, a mixture of shock and almost unmistakable arousal. Her eyes flutter closed, head tilting back instinctively to expose the smooth column of her dusky neck. Anita's gasp of surprise turns into a low moan of pleasure, her body betraying her despite her mind's reluctance.

Supratim's free hand roams possessively over Anita's curves, groping and fondling with unrestrained lust. His teeth sink into her neck, leaving a trail of angry marks that brand her as his fucktoy. Each time Anita tries to squirm away, he yanks her back roughly, grinding his rock-hard cock against her soft belly.

"Feel what you do to me, Anita baby!" he growls nipping at her earlobe. "This is what a real man feels like, Anita."

His fingers gradually dig into the flesh of her ass, spreading her cheeks through the thin fabric of her pants. Arijit watches, transfixed, as Anita's resistance continues to crumble under Supratim's relentless assault on her senses. Her hands, once pushing him away, now cling to his broad shoulders for support. As the scene unfolds before him, something shifts within his psyche. The anger and humiliation are still there, but they're overshadowed by a growing sense of... acceptance? Arijit finds himself mesmerized by Supratim's raw masculinity, his dominance over Anita.

For the umpteenth time, Arijit can see the difference between him and Anita’s boss. Supratim is a lion, a true alpha male, while he... is just a spectator in the savannah of life. The realization should be devastating, but instead, it feels almost... right. He continues to watch, his own arousal growing despite himself, as Supratim's hands move to the clasp of Anita's bra.

Supratim's fingers deftly unhook Anita's bra, slowly sliding the straps down her arms. With a flourish, he tosses the red lacy garment to the floor, leaving Anita bare from the waist up.

Anita gasps, her arms instinctively moving to cover her exposed breasts. "Supratim, please..." she whispers, her face flushing with embarrassment.

But Supratim is relentless. He gently pulls her arms away, his eyes drinking in the sight of her topless form. "Don't hide from me, Anita. You're exquisite." His gaze lingers on her dark brown areolas, a stark contrast against her olive skin. Anita shivers as his thumbs brush over her sensitive nipples, already pebbling under his touch.

"So fucking responsive," Supratim growls, lowering his head. His hot tongue darts out, lapping at Anita's stiff nipple before sucking it into his greedy mouth. Her breathy gasp echoes as he alternates between hungry sucks and teasing bites on her aching bud.

"These tits are mine," he grunts, roughly kneading her other breast.

“Aaaarrgghhhhh…!!!!!”, His fingers pinch and twist her neglected nipple, drawing a whine from Anita's throat. "No one else gets to play with these perfect little tits but me.", he says.

Anita's resistance wavers further. She arches her back, pressing her chest further into Supratim's eager mouth. Her hands tangle in his hair, caught between pulling him closer and pushing him away. "Oh godddd!!!," she moans, as her eyes roll to the back of her head in pleasure, her body betraying her with every flick of his skilled tongue.

For Arijit, the reality of the situation begins to sink in. This isn't just a momentary lapse - this is Anita surrendering to a primal desire, one that he himself could never fulfil. Supratim's raw masculinity, his dominant presence, is awakening something in her that her fiance has never seen before.

"We shouldn't..." Anita somehow manages a meek protest, but her body betrays her words. Her back arches further, pressing her chest even more firmly against Supratim's eager mouth.

"God, Anita," Supratim growls, "I've missed the taste of you."

Arijit hears a soft thud - Anita's back hitting the wall perhaps? - followed by a surprised yelp that turns into a drawn-out moan. He strains to see what is happening, but can mostly hear their voices.

"Supratim, please..." Anita's voice is barely above a whisper, torn between desire and reluctance. "We can't... Arijit..."

The sound of Arijit’s name on her lips sends a jolt through his spine. He clenches his fists, nails digging into his palms. The pain grounds him, a sharp counterpoint to the confusing mix of anger, humiliation, and unwanted arousal swirling within his very being.

"Forget him," Supratim's voice is low, commanding. "He's not half the man I am. You know it, Anita. Your body knows it."

As if to prove his point, you hear the unmistakable sound of flesh on flesh - Supratim's hand connecting with Anita's breast in a firm slap. “Arrrgghhhhhhhh!!!!!”, Anita's resulting cry is one of pleasure mixed with pain.

Arijit’s breath catches in his throat. He’s never heard Anita make a sound like that before. Never for you. The realization hits him like a physical blow, forcing him to confront an uncomfortable truth: Supratim is giving Anita something he never could.

The room fills with the sound of heavy breathing and soft whimpers as Supratim continues his assault on Anita's senses. His hands roam her body possessively, squeezing and pinching, drawing more of those intoxicating sounds from her throat.

Suddenly, the sound of a zipper being lowered cuts through the heavy breathing and soft moans. The metallic rasp seems to jolt Anita back to reality.

"Supratim, stop," Anita's protest is firmer this time, though still tinged with uncertainty. "We can't do this..."

But her words are met with the rustle of fabric hitting the floor - Supratim's pants joining the growing pile of discarded clothing. The soft thud echoes in the room, a clear indication that Supratim has no intention of stopping.

"Anita," Supratim's voice is low, husky with desire. "You know you want this as much as I do."

A sharp intake of breath from Anita reaches her fiance’s ears. He can almost picture her eyes widening as they take in Supratim's form, barely concealed by his grey boxers.

"Oh gosh!" Anita whispers, her voice a mix of shock and something else... desire? "Supratim, we shouldn't..."

"Shh," Supratim murmurs. "Just feel, Anita. Feel what a real man's dick can do to that tight little pussy of yours."

The sound of skin on fabric reaches her fiance’s ears - Anita's hand running along Supratim's length, he imagines. Her breath hitches audibly.

"I... I can't," Anita's voice wavers, but you detect a note of awe beneath her protest. "Arijit..."

"Forget about him," Supratim interrupts, his voice thick with promise. "Focus on me. On us."

Arijit stands rooted to the spot, overwhelmed by a toxic cocktail of anger, shame, and unwanted arousal. The dim light reveals only tantalizing silhouettes, forcing his imagination to fill in the gaps with torturous detail. Each sound, each breathless word from Anita, hammers home his inadequacy. Her unspoken awe of Supratim's masculinity cuts deeper than any direct comparison, leaving Arijit to once again confront the bitter truth that his rival offers Anita pleasures he never could.

The room fills with the sound of Anita's ragged breathing, punctuated by soft whimpers that betray her internal struggle. "Supratim, we can't..." she protests weakly, her voice trembling. "This is wrong, I'm enagaged, I…...ughhhhhhhhhh"

Her words trail off into a sharp gasp as Supratim's hands roam her body. Arijit can almost feel the tension in the air, the war raging within his fiance.

"Tell me to stop then," Supratim challenges, his voice low and husky. "Tell me you don't want this."

A moment of heavy silence follows, broken only by Anita's shaky exhale. When she speaks again, her voice is barely above a whisper, thick with conflicting emotions. "But Arijit….I love him, I do. This will destroy him, destroy us..."

"Then why aren't you stopping me?" Supratim's voice is smug, confident.

Anita's whimper pierces the air, heavy with unmistakable desire. The tension in the room is palpable, a heady mixture of lust and self-loathing. Arijit's heart clenches painfully as he listens to Anita's silent struggle. Her labored breathing speaks volumes - the sharp inhales of arousal warring with shaky exhales of guilt. He can almost picture her face, flushed with desire yet streaked with tears of shame.

"Don't hate yourself," Supratim murmurs right next to her earlobe. "Embrace what you feel. What that tight little body of yours craves."

A choked sob escapes Anita, quickly muffled as Supratim crashes his lips against hers. His mouth devours hers hungrily, tongue plunging deep to taste every inch of her. Anita whimpers into the kiss, her body melting against his despite her internal conflict. Supratim's teeth nip at her lower lip, drawing a gasp from her throat. His beard scratches roughly against her soft skin as he deepens the kiss, one large hand tangling in her hair to hold her in place.

When the bruising kiss finally breaks, Anita's next words are breathless, desperate.

"Supratim don’t….," she begs, though whether she's pleading for him to stop or continue is unclear even to her. "Please..."

The conflict in Anita's voice paints a vivid picture of her internal struggle - her loyalty to Arijit warring against her undeniable desire for Supratim. Each sound, each word, is a testament to her crumbling resolve. Arijit stands frozen, his heart pounding as he listens to Anita's inner battle play out. Every breathless gasp and desperate plea hammers home the reality of the situation. He can almost see her torn expression, her body betraying her even as her mind fights against the overwhelming lust Supratim has awakened.

The sounds of their encounter continue to assault Arijit's ears, forcing him to confront the bitter truth. Anita's resolve is weakening with each passing moment, her loyalty to him cracking under the weight of Supratim's dominating presence and skilled touch.

Suddenly, a sharp intake of breath cuts through the room.

"Supratim, what are you..." Anita's voice trails off, a mix of apprehension and curiosity.

The soft rustle of fabric signals Supratim slowly lowering his boxers. A moment of tense silence follows, broken by Anita's sharp gasp.