28-06-2025, 04:45 PM
From the front.
Delicately, firmly—his fingers found her warmth, her softness, the heart of her ache. He cupped her fully, his palm cradling her mound, his fingertips grazing through her tender folds.
My Wife gasped.
Her knees nearly buckled. A loud moan escaped her lips, raw and broken, echoing through the room like a melody he had waited all evening to hear.
“Balu…” she moaned, her voice thick with need, her body pressing against his, helpless and burning.
My Wife’s breath shuddered as Balu’s hand moved with quiet expertise inside her white panties, his fingers gliding through her wet Pussy he had awakened. Every movement—every stroke—was unhurried, intimate, intended.
As he began fingering my wife’s pussy, “mmmmmmmm mmmmmmm mmmmmmm mmmm,” my wife began to moan.
Her moans had grown softer now, but deeper. Like her body was learning a new rhythm—his rhythm.
Balu kissed down her Boobs slowly, planting soft, open-mouthed kisses that left behind warmth and need. He reached the swell of her left Boobs, and paused—his lips brushing against the curve but not yet taking. My Wife’s fingers curled gently around the back of his head, urging, pleading without words.
He smiled against her skin. Then finally, he sucked—deep and slow.
Her nipple disappeared into the heat of his mouth as his tongue circled it in lazy spirals. A moan escaped her lips—soft, high-pitched, helpless.
While his mouth adored one Boobs, his right hand remained inside her panties—fingers gently exploring, slipping between her folds, stroking the most sensitive part of her with teasing, wet pressure. Every movement down below was mirrored with a kiss above.
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” she moaned.
He switched, now taking the right Boobs into his mouth, licking and kissing with a reverence that bordered on worship. His mouth was hot and slow, tongue flicking her nipple, lips tugging just enough to draw out another moan.
My Wife’s hands clutched his hair now, her thighs beginning to tremble. Her body was losing strength—each suck, each stroke, each breath he took against her skin pulled her deeper into surrender.
“Balu…” she whimpered, her voice breaking. Her hands moved to hold his face, as if needing to anchor herself—because everything else in her was dissolving.
She looked down at him, her eyes heavy, her lips parted, her skin flushed.
Her knees felt weak.
Her soul, undone.
Her fingers, trembling yet tender, held his face as if she feared he might vanish if she let go. Balu looked up from her Boobs—his lips wet from worship, eyes ablaze with a heat that wasn't just lust, but love woven through desire.
She bent down slightly, breathing heavily, her breath brushing against his face. Then she began kissing his lips passionately, deeper, lips pressing into his like she had been waiting all her life to meet this version of herself.
The kiss was messy, hot, breathless. His fingers still moved inside her white panties, curling, caressing, stroking her in rhythm with her gasps. She groaned against his mouth, unable to kiss him without moaning into him.
Her hands gripped the sides of his face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones. She pulled him closer, kissing as if his mouth was the only anchor to hold onto in the tidal wave rising within her.
As Balu continued fingering her Pussy, “mmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmm mmmmmmm mmmmm,” she began to moan.
His right hand stayed buried between her thighs—his fingers slick, knowing, unrelenting. Every time he circled her most sensitive spot inside her Pussy, her legs quivered and her moans grew louder. Her panties were soaked now, sticking to her skin like a second breath.
“Balu…” she whispered into his mouth, almost in disbelief.
He didn’t respond with words.
He kissed her harder, while his hand moved faster.
My Wife felt herself unraveling—every inch of her skin alight, every part of her pulled taut like strings of a veena about to sing.
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” my wife began to moan.
She gasped, “I… I can’t…” Her knees nearly gave way.
Balu caught her, holding her by the waist, fingers still moving deep inside her soaked warmth.
Her head fell forward onto his shoulder, breath hot against his neck. She was moaning now—broken, beautiful, breathless—as her hips began to grind gently into his hand, body chasing the pleasure like waves reaching for the shore.
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,”
Her voice cracked against his ear.
“Don’t stop… please… Balu…”
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,”
Her moans grew higher, softer, sweeter—as if every breath was being pulled from a secret part of her soul.
Balu held her firmly, one arm around her waist, the other hand still deep inside her white panties, fingers gliding, circling, pressing gently against her wet pussy, aching center.
He kissed her neck, slowly, over and over—his lips hot, his tongue tasting the salt of her skin, the scent of her surrender.
“You’re so beautiful like this…” he whispered, voice thick with reverence. “Let go for me, Sudha... come in my arms.”
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” she moaned.
Her body was trembling—legs weak, belly tightening, breath stuttering.
She clutched his face again, forehead resting against his, tears pricking the corners of her eyes—not from sadness, but from the overwhelming pleasure building like thunder within her.
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmm,”
Her voice broke into a cry—soft, shattering, helpless.
“Balu… I’m… I can’t… I—”
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” as the began to moan loud, the moment he began inserting his finger deep inside my wife’s Puss, “aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” She moaned loud and began cumming…..
Right there, standing, wrapped in his arms, his hand buried between her thighs. Her hips jerked once, twice, her breath caught, and her whole body arched into him like a wave crashing onto shore.
She moaned loud, her head falling back, hair cascading down her spine. Her hands gripped his arms, nails sinking into his skin as her climax washed over her in waves—sharp, deep, beautiful.
Balu held her through it, never stopping his fingers until she gasped his name again and again, riding the trembling aftershocks.
When she finally collapsed against him, breathing hard, her face pressed to his bare chest, he cradled her gently—like she was something precious that had bloomed and broken open just for him.
He kissed her hair.
“You’re mine, Sudha,” he whispered into the silence, smiling softly.
“Every moan, every breath, every heartbeat… mine.”
She didn’t speak.
She just nodded faintly… still wrapped around him, still melting, her white panties damp with love, her body boneless in his embrace.
My Wife rested in his arms, her body still fluttering with aftershocks. Her breath was uneven, her skin glistening, her heart beating against his chest like a bird that had just tasted sky.
Balu held her without a word, his lips occasionally brushing her temple, his fingers gently stroking her back through the thin fabric of her damp white panties.
After a long, slow moment, he whispered in her ear.
“Come…”
His voice was low. Grounded. Sacred.
He guided her gently toward the bed, each step unhurried, his hand cradling the curve of her waist as though her body were something holy.
As they reached the edge, he sat down first and pulled her slowly into his lap—her legs straddling him, her bare Boobs pressing into his chest, the only barrier between them now that final soft, soaked fabric.
He looked up into her eyes. And smiled.
"Still not in the mood?" he teased gently.
She laughed—weakly, breathlessly—then leaned in and kissed him again. It was slower now, deeper. A kiss that said thank you, and don’t stop, and I’m yours.
Balu’s hands slid down her back, warm palms resting just at the curve of her hips.
He held her there, kissed her one last time, then gently lifted her—one hand under her thighs, the other at her back—and laid her down on the bed like he was placing her at the center of a frame he’d been waiting his whole life to shoot.
She lay there now, her hair a dark halo on the white pillow, her Boobs rising and falling, her skin flushed, glowing. The white panties were the only thing left—a final veil over her heat, her hunger, her heart.
Balu knelt beside her, brushing her thigh with the back of his fingers.
“Can I take these off?” he asked softly, reverently, eyes meeting hers.
My Wife nodded.
Slowly.
The room was hushed, as if even time itself held its breath.
My Wife lay before him, soft and undone, her body still tingling from the waves that had rippled through her just moments ago. Her skin glowed in the golden lamplight—Boobs bare and rising gently with each breath, legs slightly apart in quiet invitation.
Only her white panties remained—wet with need, clinging to her like a memory she was finally ready to shed.
Balu ran his hand up her thigh slowly, pausing at her hip, fingers teasing the waistband. His voice was a whisper, low and reverent.
“I want to see all of you, Sudha… May I?”
Her eyes fluttered open. She didn’t speak—just nodded once, slowly, shyly.
Balu leaned down, pressing a kiss to her belly, then her hipbone, and then—gently, gently—he began to slide the panties down.
Inches at a time.
He kissed her thighs as he uncovered them, trailing warm lips along soft skin. As the damp fabric peeled away, she arched slightly, breath hitching, the sensation as intimate as a secret being told between skin and soul.
He tossed the panties aside gently, as though removing the final line from a poem that had found its perfect end.
Now, she was completely naked—and stunning.
Her body open to him, trembling in anticipation, but glowing with trust.
Balu hovered over her, his body already aching with love, yet still taking his time. He kissed her thighs. Her hips. Her belly. Then moved upward—his lips finding the valley between her Boobs, her collarbone, her throat—each kiss a vow without words.
When he finally looked into her eyes again, she pulled him close, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, her voice barely a whisper:
“Make love to me, Balu…”
And he did.
As he began inserting his cock inside her pussy and began making love to my wife with a slow, trembling breath—his body sinking into hers like a river meeting the sea. They gasped together—one breath, one rhythm, one slow, rising tide.
Their bodies moved in perfect unison—skin to skin, heart to heart.
No words. Just moans. Sighs. The wet, tender sounds of deep love unfolding.
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmm,” as my wife was moaning, he held her face as he began inserting his cock deeper and deeper inside her pussy, watching every expression bloom across her features. She pulled him closer, wrapping her legs around his waist, moaning his name into his ear like a sacred chant.
The world narrowed to just this:
Her body clenching around him.
His lips brushing hers.
Their souls pressing closer with every thrust.
“Balu…” she whispered again, voice shaking. “I… I’m there again… I am am gonna cum mmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm” she moaned.
And he kissed her, breathing against her lips,
“Come with me this time… together, Sudha… now.” as he exclaimed began digging his cock deeper and deeeper inside my wife’s pussy, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” she moaned and came all over his cock.
And they did.
Together.
Their climax was not a peak, but an ocean—vast, deep, endless—pulling them under and lifting them higher in the same breath. Her cry mingled with his groan, their hands clutching each other like lifelines, their bodies trembling in waves of pleasure and peace.
When it was over, Balu collapsed beside her, pulling her close, kissing her forehead with a tenderness only love could shape.
My Wife lay wrapped in his arms, naked.
I didn’t know how I walked away.
I only knew that if I didn’t—I’d lose whatever was left of myself.
Delicately, firmly—his fingers found her warmth, her softness, the heart of her ache. He cupped her fully, his palm cradling her mound, his fingertips grazing through her tender folds.
My Wife gasped.
Her knees nearly buckled. A loud moan escaped her lips, raw and broken, echoing through the room like a melody he had waited all evening to hear.
“Balu…” she moaned, her voice thick with need, her body pressing against his, helpless and burning.
My Wife’s breath shuddered as Balu’s hand moved with quiet expertise inside her white panties, his fingers gliding through her wet Pussy he had awakened. Every movement—every stroke—was unhurried, intimate, intended.
As he began fingering my wife’s pussy, “mmmmmmmm mmmmmmm mmmmmmm mmmm,” my wife began to moan.
Her moans had grown softer now, but deeper. Like her body was learning a new rhythm—his rhythm.
Balu kissed down her Boobs slowly, planting soft, open-mouthed kisses that left behind warmth and need. He reached the swell of her left Boobs, and paused—his lips brushing against the curve but not yet taking. My Wife’s fingers curled gently around the back of his head, urging, pleading without words.
He smiled against her skin. Then finally, he sucked—deep and slow.
Her nipple disappeared into the heat of his mouth as his tongue circled it in lazy spirals. A moan escaped her lips—soft, high-pitched, helpless.
While his mouth adored one Boobs, his right hand remained inside her panties—fingers gently exploring, slipping between her folds, stroking the most sensitive part of her with teasing, wet pressure. Every movement down below was mirrored with a kiss above.
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” she moaned.
He switched, now taking the right Boobs into his mouth, licking and kissing with a reverence that bordered on worship. His mouth was hot and slow, tongue flicking her nipple, lips tugging just enough to draw out another moan.
My Wife’s hands clutched his hair now, her thighs beginning to tremble. Her body was losing strength—each suck, each stroke, each breath he took against her skin pulled her deeper into surrender.
“Balu…” she whimpered, her voice breaking. Her hands moved to hold his face, as if needing to anchor herself—because everything else in her was dissolving.
She looked down at him, her eyes heavy, her lips parted, her skin flushed.
Her knees felt weak.
Her soul, undone.
Her fingers, trembling yet tender, held his face as if she feared he might vanish if she let go. Balu looked up from her Boobs—his lips wet from worship, eyes ablaze with a heat that wasn't just lust, but love woven through desire.
She bent down slightly, breathing heavily, her breath brushing against his face. Then she began kissing his lips passionately, deeper, lips pressing into his like she had been waiting all her life to meet this version of herself.
The kiss was messy, hot, breathless. His fingers still moved inside her white panties, curling, caressing, stroking her in rhythm with her gasps. She groaned against his mouth, unable to kiss him without moaning into him.
Her hands gripped the sides of his face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones. She pulled him closer, kissing as if his mouth was the only anchor to hold onto in the tidal wave rising within her.
As Balu continued fingering her Pussy, “mmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmm mmmmmmm mmmmm,” she began to moan.
His right hand stayed buried between her thighs—his fingers slick, knowing, unrelenting. Every time he circled her most sensitive spot inside her Pussy, her legs quivered and her moans grew louder. Her panties were soaked now, sticking to her skin like a second breath.
“Balu…” she whispered into his mouth, almost in disbelief.
He didn’t respond with words.
He kissed her harder, while his hand moved faster.
My Wife felt herself unraveling—every inch of her skin alight, every part of her pulled taut like strings of a veena about to sing.
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” my wife began to moan.
She gasped, “I… I can’t…” Her knees nearly gave way.
Balu caught her, holding her by the waist, fingers still moving deep inside her soaked warmth.
Her head fell forward onto his shoulder, breath hot against his neck. She was moaning now—broken, beautiful, breathless—as her hips began to grind gently into his hand, body chasing the pleasure like waves reaching for the shore.
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,”
Her voice cracked against his ear.
“Don’t stop… please… Balu…”
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,”
Her moans grew higher, softer, sweeter—as if every breath was being pulled from a secret part of her soul.
Balu held her firmly, one arm around her waist, the other hand still deep inside her white panties, fingers gliding, circling, pressing gently against her wet pussy, aching center.
He kissed her neck, slowly, over and over—his lips hot, his tongue tasting the salt of her skin, the scent of her surrender.
“You’re so beautiful like this…” he whispered, voice thick with reverence. “Let go for me, Sudha... come in my arms.”
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” she moaned.
Her body was trembling—legs weak, belly tightening, breath stuttering.
She clutched his face again, forehead resting against his, tears pricking the corners of her eyes—not from sadness, but from the overwhelming pleasure building like thunder within her.
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmm,”
Her voice broke into a cry—soft, shattering, helpless.
“Balu… I’m… I can’t… I—”
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” as the began to moan loud, the moment he began inserting his finger deep inside my wife’s Puss, “aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” She moaned loud and began cumming…..
Right there, standing, wrapped in his arms, his hand buried between her thighs. Her hips jerked once, twice, her breath caught, and her whole body arched into him like a wave crashing onto shore.
She moaned loud, her head falling back, hair cascading down her spine. Her hands gripped his arms, nails sinking into his skin as her climax washed over her in waves—sharp, deep, beautiful.
Balu held her through it, never stopping his fingers until she gasped his name again and again, riding the trembling aftershocks.
When she finally collapsed against him, breathing hard, her face pressed to his bare chest, he cradled her gently—like she was something precious that had bloomed and broken open just for him.
He kissed her hair.
“You’re mine, Sudha,” he whispered into the silence, smiling softly.
“Every moan, every breath, every heartbeat… mine.”
She didn’t speak.
She just nodded faintly… still wrapped around him, still melting, her white panties damp with love, her body boneless in his embrace.
My Wife rested in his arms, her body still fluttering with aftershocks. Her breath was uneven, her skin glistening, her heart beating against his chest like a bird that had just tasted sky.
Balu held her without a word, his lips occasionally brushing her temple, his fingers gently stroking her back through the thin fabric of her damp white panties.
After a long, slow moment, he whispered in her ear.
“Come…”
His voice was low. Grounded. Sacred.
He guided her gently toward the bed, each step unhurried, his hand cradling the curve of her waist as though her body were something holy.
As they reached the edge, he sat down first and pulled her slowly into his lap—her legs straddling him, her bare Boobs pressing into his chest, the only barrier between them now that final soft, soaked fabric.
He looked up into her eyes. And smiled.
"Still not in the mood?" he teased gently.
She laughed—weakly, breathlessly—then leaned in and kissed him again. It was slower now, deeper. A kiss that said thank you, and don’t stop, and I’m yours.
Balu’s hands slid down her back, warm palms resting just at the curve of her hips.
He held her there, kissed her one last time, then gently lifted her—one hand under her thighs, the other at her back—and laid her down on the bed like he was placing her at the center of a frame he’d been waiting his whole life to shoot.
She lay there now, her hair a dark halo on the white pillow, her Boobs rising and falling, her skin flushed, glowing. The white panties were the only thing left—a final veil over her heat, her hunger, her heart.
Balu knelt beside her, brushing her thigh with the back of his fingers.
“Can I take these off?” he asked softly, reverently, eyes meeting hers.
My Wife nodded.
Slowly.
The room was hushed, as if even time itself held its breath.
My Wife lay before him, soft and undone, her body still tingling from the waves that had rippled through her just moments ago. Her skin glowed in the golden lamplight—Boobs bare and rising gently with each breath, legs slightly apart in quiet invitation.
Only her white panties remained—wet with need, clinging to her like a memory she was finally ready to shed.
Balu ran his hand up her thigh slowly, pausing at her hip, fingers teasing the waistband. His voice was a whisper, low and reverent.
“I want to see all of you, Sudha… May I?”
Her eyes fluttered open. She didn’t speak—just nodded once, slowly, shyly.
Balu leaned down, pressing a kiss to her belly, then her hipbone, and then—gently, gently—he began to slide the panties down.
Inches at a time.
He kissed her thighs as he uncovered them, trailing warm lips along soft skin. As the damp fabric peeled away, she arched slightly, breath hitching, the sensation as intimate as a secret being told between skin and soul.
He tossed the panties aside gently, as though removing the final line from a poem that had found its perfect end.
Now, she was completely naked—and stunning.
Her body open to him, trembling in anticipation, but glowing with trust.
Balu hovered over her, his body already aching with love, yet still taking his time. He kissed her thighs. Her hips. Her belly. Then moved upward—his lips finding the valley between her Boobs, her collarbone, her throat—each kiss a vow without words.
When he finally looked into her eyes again, she pulled him close, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, her voice barely a whisper:
“Make love to me, Balu…”
And he did.
As he began inserting his cock inside her pussy and began making love to my wife with a slow, trembling breath—his body sinking into hers like a river meeting the sea. They gasped together—one breath, one rhythm, one slow, rising tide.
Their bodies moved in perfect unison—skin to skin, heart to heart.
No words. Just moans. Sighs. The wet, tender sounds of deep love unfolding.
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmm,” as my wife was moaning, he held her face as he began inserting his cock deeper and deeper inside her pussy, watching every expression bloom across her features. She pulled him closer, wrapping her legs around his waist, moaning his name into his ear like a sacred chant.
The world narrowed to just this:
Her body clenching around him.
His lips brushing hers.
Their souls pressing closer with every thrust.
“Balu…” she whispered again, voice shaking. “I… I’m there again… I am am gonna cum mmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm” she moaned.
And he kissed her, breathing against her lips,
“Come with me this time… together, Sudha… now.” as he exclaimed began digging his cock deeper and deeeper inside my wife’s pussy, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” she moaned and came all over his cock.
And they did.
Together.
Their climax was not a peak, but an ocean—vast, deep, endless—pulling them under and lifting them higher in the same breath. Her cry mingled with his groan, their hands clutching each other like lifelines, their bodies trembling in waves of pleasure and peace.
When it was over, Balu collapsed beside her, pulling her close, kissing her forehead with a tenderness only love could shape.
My Wife lay wrapped in his arms, naked.
I didn’t know how I walked away.
I only knew that if I didn’t—I’d lose whatever was left of myself.
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