Adultery Radiance of Vanitha

[adams_masala]

Selvam's eyes darkened, pupils dilating until only a thin ring of brown remained. "Beyond my wildest dreams," he confessed, his voice rough with desire. "In my most forbidden thoughts, I never imagined such perfection."


His thumbs traced gentle circles on her inner thighs, each spiral drawing closer to her center without quite touching where she needed him most. The anticipation was exquisite torture, her body trembling with need as his breath caressed her sensitive flesh.

"In the ancient Tamil texts," he murmured, his gaze never leaving the glistening petals before him, "they describe the yoni as having the taste of amrita—divine nectar that grants immortality." His tongue darted out to wet his lips, a gesture that sent a fresh wave of heat through Vanitha's core.

The first touch of his tongue against her center drew a cry from Vanitha that seemed to echo through the room. The sensation was electric—his tongue warm and firm against her most sensitive flesh. He traced her outer folds with deliberate slowness, savoring her taste as if sampling a rare delicacy. Each languid stroke built upon the last, gradually increasing in pressure and precision.

"Mama," she gasped, her fingers threading through his silver-streaked hair, anchoring herself to him as pleasure coursed through her body. "Oh god, mama..."


As waves of pleasure crested through her body, a flash of clarity cut through Vanitha's haze of desire. This morning's encounter—his skilled mouth bringing her to climax while he remained fully clothed, denying her the sight she of his cock she most craved—would not be repeated. Not tonight. Tonight was about completion, about balance between giving and receiving.

With surprising strength, she pressed her palms against his shoulders, creating space between them. Selvam looked up, confusion clouding his eyes, his lips glistening with evidence of her arousal.

"Not again," she said, breathless but determined. Her hand reached down to the knot securing his dhoti, fingers brushing against the hardness beneath. "I haven't forgotten what you promised me, mama. Why should I be the only one naked? This isn't fair."

A slow smile spread across Selvam's face, understanding dawning in his eyes.

“I know I didn't let you see it”

“are you worried I’ll be scared?”

Selvam's fingers brushed against the edge of his dhoti, his eyes never leaving Vanitha's. "I'm not worried about scaring you," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I'm concerned about overwhelming you."

Vanitha's lips curved into a smile that was both innocent and knowing. "After all you did this morning, do you think I don't know what to expect?" Her fingers reached out, hovering just above his thigh. "I can’t wait anymore, I want to see it like for real this time. I know I saw your morning wood from far. But I want to see it up close, mama. Please!"

Selvam's eyes darkened with desire, the last threads of his hesitation dissolving under the heat of her plea. With deliberate slowness, he rose from the bed, towering over her kneeling form. His fingers worked at the knot securing his dhoti, the white silk loosening under his touch.

"Come closer," he commanded softly.

Vanitha shuffled forward on her knees, the mangalsutra swinging gently between her breasts with each movement.

Vanitha reached for the loose end of his dhoti with trembling fingers. The white silk felt cool against her skin as she gently tugged at the fabric, her eyes locked with his in silent communion. The knot had already been loosened by his skilled hands, requiring only her final touch to complete the unveiling. With reverent deliberation, she unwound the traditional garment, each turn revealing more of his muscular thighs. The silk whispered secrets against her wrists as it surrendered its hold on his body, pooling at his feet like sacred offering.

"Oh," she gasped, her eyes widening in surprise.

Instead of finding him bare beneath the dhoti as she had expected, Selvam wore a traditional cotton loincloth—a langot—wrapped snugly around his hips and between his thighs. The thin white fabric did nothing to conceal his arousal, which

"Is this what you want to see?" he asked, his voice husky with both desire and restraint.

Unable to form words, she was pleasantly surprised to see a traditional loin cloth.

Vanitha nodded, her eyes wide with anticipation. Her fingers reached out, trembling slightly as they traced the edge of the fabric where it rested low on his abdomen.

"May I?" she whispered, looking up at him through her lashes, the perfect picture of demure desire.

Selvam's chest rose and fell with quickened breaths as he nodded his assent. "Slowly," he cautioned, his voice strained with the effort of control.

With reverent precision, Vanitha's fingers found the knot at his hip. The cotton was soft beneath her touch, worn to perfect smoothness by countless washings. She worked at the simple knot, her knuckles occasionally brushing against hard cock inside, the hardness hidden beneath, sending jolts of electricity through both their bodies. As the knot yielded to her efforts, the fabric loosened, and Vanitha held her breath as she slowly unwound the loincloth.

The kovanam fell away, revealing Selvam in his full glory. Vanitha's lips parted in a silent gasp as she beheld him—thick and proud, jutting forward with undeniable vigor. The shaft was impressively veined, each ridge and contour exactly as she had glimpsed in those forbidden photos he had seen from SilverFox77. But seeing it through a screen had not prepared her for the reality—the heat emanating from it, the subtle pulse of blood visible beneath the taut skin, the sheer presence of it demanding her attention.

"Oh," she breathed, the simple syllable carrying volumes of appreciation. Her eyes traveled along its impressive length, from the broad head to the thick base where it emerged from a nest of silver-streaked hair. It was beautiful in its masculinity, a testament to the virility that still coursed through Selvam despite his years.

"Is it what you expected?" Selvam asked, his voice tight with restrained passion.

Vanitha swallowed, finding her voice. "No.. Not at all… It's way more," she whispered, her fingertips hovering just millimeters from its surface.

“way more.. what?”

"Way more..." Vanitha's voice trailed off, her thoughts scattering like jasmine petals in a sudden breeze. She had imagined this moment countless times—had seen glimpses in those forbidden photos, had felt its outline through fabric—but reality rendered her speechless. The words she had prepared, the clever phrases she'd rehearsed, evaporated from her mind, leaving only primal wonder.

Her eyes traced every vein, every ridge, every subtle curve of his manhood. It stood proudly before her, a testament to his desire, its girth stretching wider than her wrist, its length intimidating yet enticing. The broad head glistened slightly in the oil lamp's glow, a drop of anticipation beading at the tip.

Selvam watched her face, savoring her stunned silence, the parting of her lips, the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

"Way more..." Vanitha's voice caught in her throat. "...magnificent than I imagined. Even from your pictures, I couldn't have known..."

A gentle evening breeze swept through the open window, carrying with it the scent of night-blooming jasmine from the garden below. The sudden breeze made a single jasmine petal from the jasmine flower worn on Vanitha's hair, sending it floating downward in a lazy spiral between them.

Time seemed to slow as they both watched the delicate white petal drift through the air, tumbling end over end in the golden lamplight. It landed with perfect precision atop Selvam's engorged cock, the pristine white of the flower stark against the dark hue of his flesh. The petal trembled there with each pulse of blood beneath, a sacred offering upon a living altar.

"The gods themselves approve," Selvam murmured, his voice rich with reverent humor.

"A blessing," Vanitha whispered, her voice filled with reverent awe. "yes, mama the gods themselves approve."

Vanitha reached out with trembling fingers, lifting the jasmine petal from its resting place. The brief contact of her fingertip against his heated flesh sent a visible shudder through Selvam's powerful frame. She brought the petal to her lips, kissing it gently while locking her eyes on his eyes, before releasing it to continue its journey on the night breeze.

"May I touch it properly now, mama?" she whispered, her voice honeyed with desire.

Selvam nodded, his jaw clenching with the effort of restraint.

The honorific—now laden with erotic undertones—sent a visible shudder through Selvam's body. His manhood twitched in response, as if reaching for her touch.

"Yes," he growled, his hand moving to cradle the back of her head, fingers threading through her jasmine-scented hair.

With exquisite slowness, Vanitha's fingers made contact with the heated flesh, a soft gasp escaping her lips at the contrast between its velvet surface and the steel-like hardness beneath. She encircled him tentatively, her slender fingers unable to meet around his impressive girth. The weight of him in her palm was substantial, almost reverent in its gravity.

"It's so warm," she whispered, her voice filled with wonder as she explored this forbidden territory. Her thumb traced the prominent vein that ran along the underside, feeling it pulse beneath her touch. "And alive."

Selvam's breath hitched as her fingers tightened experimentally around him. His hand in her hair gripped slightly harder, guiding her without force. "Gently," he instructed, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control. "It's been... a long time."

The vulnerability in his admission touched something deep within.

Vanitha's eyes widened as she fully appreciated his dimensions, her fingers barely meeting around his girth.

"Mama," she whispered, her voice a blend of awe and trepidation as she looked up at him through long lashes, "romba perusa irukku." The Tamil phrase—it's so big—fell from her lips like a prayer, heavy with meaning and need.

A primal satisfaction flashed in Selvam's eyes at her words, his chest swelling slightly with masculine pride. The admission, spoken in their mother tongue, carried an intimacy that transcended the physical—connecting them through language, culture, and forbidden desire.

Selvam's expression softened at her words, his hand gentling in her hair. "We'll go slowly," he promised, his thumb caressing her cheek with surprising tenderness. "I would never hurt you, Vanitha."

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his impressive manhood as she continued her exploration. The weight of it in her palm felt both intimidating and thrilling. "I've never seen anything like it," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "hmm his... nothing compared to this."

A flicker of satisfaction crossed Selvam's features at the comparison, quickly replaced by something more tender.

Vanitha's fingers continued their exploration, tracing the prominent veins that mapped the surface of his shaft. Each ridge and contour told a story of virility and power that belied his years. The broad head was smooth and darker than the shaft, a drop of clear fluid beading at the tip like morning dew on a lotus.

"May I taste you, mama?" she asked, her voice innocent yet heavy with desire. The request hung in the air between them, charged with taboo and longing.

Selvam's breath caught in his throat, his hand gently cupping her cheek. "Wait," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "Before you taste..."

His thumb traced the fullness of her lower lip, his eyes darkening as he watched it yield to his touch. "There's something I've imagined since I first saw your lips in those videos you posted."

Vanitha looked up at him questioningly, her eyes wide with innocent curiosity despite the intimacy of their position.

"The nectar," he murmured, his gaze dropping to the glistening droplet at his tip. "In ancient tantric practices, it's considered sacred—the first offering of a man's essence." His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Would you anoint your lips with it? Like the finest lip gloss nature provides?"

The request sent a shiver of excitement through Vanitha.


"Yes, mama," Vanitha whispered, entranced by the ritualistic nature of his request.