12-12-2024, 11:43 PM
Priya’s body arched like a feline under my touch, her skin slick with anticipation as I slid my length against her soaked heat, teasing us both with the promise of what was to come. Harpit, who had shifted momentarily to catch his breath, returned to his knees before us with a reverence that was palpable, his trembling hands resting on my thighs.
He hesitated for only a heartbeat before leaning forward, his lips brushing tentatively against the tip of my shaft, slick with the mingled essence of his wife’s arousal. The contact sent a ripple of electricity through the room, a charged moment that defied logic or convention. Slowly, he let his tongue slip out, tracing the ridge with a deliberate, almost worshipful motion, his breath warm against me as he explored this forbidden act.
Priya moaned softly, her hand threading through Harpit’s hair, guiding him closer as he worked his way down my length. “You like that, don’t you?” she murmured, her voice dripping with approval as she glanced over her shoulder at me, her lips parted in a wicked smile.
Harpit didn’t answer, his mouth too occupied as he reached the base of my shaft, his tongue darting lower to caress my balls. His hands, still trembling, moved to grip me, guiding my cock back toward Priya’s entrance. He positioned me with precision, almost as if offering a gift, before I thrust forward, burying myself inside her again.
The sounds she made were primal, her hips rocking back to meet me with every push. Harpit didn’t flinch, didn’t falter. Instead, he leaned closer, his tongue flicking against me each time I withdrew slightly, his lips brushing the point where our bodies met, tasting the blend of our secretions with an eagerness that bordered on devotion.
---
What might have seemed like degradation to an outsider—a scene of utter humiliation—was, to Harpit, a transcendent act of worship. His hands guided me deeper into his wife, his tongue savoring every lingering trace of our connection. His eyes fluttered closed, lost in the moment as if he were communing with something far greater than the sum of our bodies.
“This...” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper as he pulled back for a breath, “this is everything. The way it’s meant to be.”
Priya reached for him, her fingers brushing his jaw as she cupped his face, pulling him up to kiss her deeply. Their tongues met, and she moaned against his mouth, sharing the taste of herself and me in an intimate exchange that left no question about their unity. When their lips parted, she glanced back at me, her eyes blazing with an intensity that made my next thrust even more forceful.
---
The room was a symphony of sounds—her cries of pleasure, the wet, rhythmic slapping of flesh, and the occasional guttural groan from Harpit as he relished his role in this moment. His hands remained steady, guiding me into her each time I drew back, his tongue darting out to tease me, to savor every nuance of the act.
For Harpit, this wasn’t shame; it was purpose. The weight of expectation, the constructs of society, they all melted away in that moment. What remained was pure: his wife’s pleasure, his own surrender, and my dominance over both of them.
He hesitated for only a heartbeat before leaning forward, his lips brushing tentatively against the tip of my shaft, slick with the mingled essence of his wife’s arousal. The contact sent a ripple of electricity through the room, a charged moment that defied logic or convention. Slowly, he let his tongue slip out, tracing the ridge with a deliberate, almost worshipful motion, his breath warm against me as he explored this forbidden act.
Priya moaned softly, her hand threading through Harpit’s hair, guiding him closer as he worked his way down my length. “You like that, don’t you?” she murmured, her voice dripping with approval as she glanced over her shoulder at me, her lips parted in a wicked smile.
Harpit didn’t answer, his mouth too occupied as he reached the base of my shaft, his tongue darting lower to caress my balls. His hands, still trembling, moved to grip me, guiding my cock back toward Priya’s entrance. He positioned me with precision, almost as if offering a gift, before I thrust forward, burying myself inside her again.
The sounds she made were primal, her hips rocking back to meet me with every push. Harpit didn’t flinch, didn’t falter. Instead, he leaned closer, his tongue flicking against me each time I withdrew slightly, his lips brushing the point where our bodies met, tasting the blend of our secretions with an eagerness that bordered on devotion.
---
What might have seemed like degradation to an outsider—a scene of utter humiliation—was, to Harpit, a transcendent act of worship. His hands guided me deeper into his wife, his tongue savoring every lingering trace of our connection. His eyes fluttered closed, lost in the moment as if he were communing with something far greater than the sum of our bodies.
“This...” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper as he pulled back for a breath, “this is everything. The way it’s meant to be.”
Priya reached for him, her fingers brushing his jaw as she cupped his face, pulling him up to kiss her deeply. Their tongues met, and she moaned against his mouth, sharing the taste of herself and me in an intimate exchange that left no question about their unity. When their lips parted, she glanced back at me, her eyes blazing with an intensity that made my next thrust even more forceful.
---
The room was a symphony of sounds—her cries of pleasure, the wet, rhythmic slapping of flesh, and the occasional guttural groan from Harpit as he relished his role in this moment. His hands remained steady, guiding me into her each time I drew back, his tongue darting out to tease me, to savor every nuance of the act.
For Harpit, this wasn’t shame; it was purpose. The weight of expectation, the constructs of society, they all melted away in that moment. What remained was pure: his wife’s pleasure, his own surrender, and my dominance over both of them.
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