12-12-2024, 11:47 PM
The moment hung heavy in the air, a mix of lust, submission, and something unspoken that thrummed like a low electric current. As Harpit pulled back from Priya's kiss, his gaze shifted to me. There was a question in his eyes, an unspoken plea that was both hesitant and resolute.
I cocked my head, reading the silent request. Was it for her? For me? I decided to let him choose, pulling myself free from Priya with a wet, obscene sound and resting my slick shaft on the curve of her thigh. The move was deliberate, an unspoken invitation for him to do as he pleased.
But it wasn’t Priya he turned to. His lips, trembling but determined, pressed against the side of my shaft, his breath hot against me. I froze for a moment, caught between disbelief and the heady rush of dominance that surged through me. I wasn’t gay—never even entertained the thought—but this? This was something else entirely. This was power.
---
His lips parted further, and then I felt it—wet heat enveloping me as he took me into his mouth. Slowly at first, tentative and unsure, but guided by some innate drive that kept him going. His tongue swirled around my tip, tasting the blend of his wife’s arousal and my essence, savoring it as if it were some forbidden delicacy. My body responded despite myself, a deep groan rumbling from my chest as I pressed a hand against Priya’s back to steady myself.
Priya turned her head to watch, her lips curling into a wicked smile as she reached down, her fingers threading through her husband’s hair. “That’s it,” she murmured, her voice a sultry purr. “Take him. Show him how much you want this.”
Encouraged by her words, Harpit grew bolder. He took more of me into his mouth, his tongue working in tandem with the rhythmic bobbing of his head. It was clumsy, inexperienced, but the raw eagerness with which he worked made up for any lack of skill. Each flick of his tongue, each soft, wet sound, sent a thrill through me that was impossible to ignore.
---
For two minutes, the world narrowed to this—the sensation of his mouth around me, the sight of Priya guiding him, her hand gentle yet commanding. I couldn’t look away, the sheer depravity of the scene rooting me in place. Harpit wasn’t just doing this for her; he was doing it for himself, for the dynamic we had created, for the way it made him feel to surrender so completely.
When he finally pulled back, his lips glistening and his face flushed, he looked up at me with an expression I would never forget. It was a mix of shame, pride, and a deep, almost reverent satisfaction that I hadn’t seen before.
Priya leaned down, kissing him softly as if to reward his bravery, her lips lingering on his for a moment before she turned to me, her gaze burning. “He’s yours now,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but heavy with meaning.
And in that moment, I knew she was right.
I cocked my head, reading the silent request. Was it for her? For me? I decided to let him choose, pulling myself free from Priya with a wet, obscene sound and resting my slick shaft on the curve of her thigh. The move was deliberate, an unspoken invitation for him to do as he pleased.
But it wasn’t Priya he turned to. His lips, trembling but determined, pressed against the side of my shaft, his breath hot against me. I froze for a moment, caught between disbelief and the heady rush of dominance that surged through me. I wasn’t gay—never even entertained the thought—but this? This was something else entirely. This was power.
---
His lips parted further, and then I felt it—wet heat enveloping me as he took me into his mouth. Slowly at first, tentative and unsure, but guided by some innate drive that kept him going. His tongue swirled around my tip, tasting the blend of his wife’s arousal and my essence, savoring it as if it were some forbidden delicacy. My body responded despite myself, a deep groan rumbling from my chest as I pressed a hand against Priya’s back to steady myself.
Priya turned her head to watch, her lips curling into a wicked smile as she reached down, her fingers threading through her husband’s hair. “That’s it,” she murmured, her voice a sultry purr. “Take him. Show him how much you want this.”
Encouraged by her words, Harpit grew bolder. He took more of me into his mouth, his tongue working in tandem with the rhythmic bobbing of his head. It was clumsy, inexperienced, but the raw eagerness with which he worked made up for any lack of skill. Each flick of his tongue, each soft, wet sound, sent a thrill through me that was impossible to ignore.
---
For two minutes, the world narrowed to this—the sensation of his mouth around me, the sight of Priya guiding him, her hand gentle yet commanding. I couldn’t look away, the sheer depravity of the scene rooting me in place. Harpit wasn’t just doing this for her; he was doing it for himself, for the dynamic we had created, for the way it made him feel to surrender so completely.
When he finally pulled back, his lips glistening and his face flushed, he looked up at me with an expression I would never forget. It was a mix of shame, pride, and a deep, almost reverent satisfaction that I hadn’t seen before.
Priya leaned down, kissing him softly as if to reward his bravery, her lips lingering on his for a moment before she turned to me, her gaze burning. “He’s yours now,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but heavy with meaning.
And in that moment, I knew she was right.
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