Adultery The Language of Her Heart

[yazhiniram]

He didn’t say a word.

Not even one.

Not even a whisper.

No breath sound.

No grunt.


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He just moved.

Like breath.

Like wave.

Smooth.

Certain.


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Slow.

So slow.

He pulled back.

Soft sound.

Then forward again.


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Again slow.

Same beat.

Same glide.

Not rush.

Not force.


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Back.

And forward.

One rhythm.

One tempo.

One body.


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My head—

It rocked.

Not because he pushed.

Not pulled.

Just… rhythm.


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Like my body…

Was syncing.

To his motion.

Without asking.

Without thinking.


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My mouth—

It was losing the fight.

Slowly.

Quietly.

Without drama.


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My jaw…

Stopped resisting.

It didn’t fight.

Didn’t clench.

Just opened.


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Hung open.

Too tired now.

Muscles soft.

Like cloth.

Just… accepting.


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I could feel it.

The stretch.

Still there.

But not new.

Not shocking anymore.


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Still wide.

Still sore.

Still full.

But not tearing.

Not panicking.


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My lips—

They had gone numb.

From stretching so wide.

From holding him.

Too long.


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The corners—

They burned.

That raw feeling.

Like skin split.

Like paper cut.


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And the drool—

Oh god.

It was dripping now.

Not drops.

Not soft.


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Long strands.

Stretchy.

Sticky.

From my chin to neck.

Pulled like thread.


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It soaked—

The front of my blouse.

My chest.

My throat.

That cloth stuck to me.


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Every time—

He pulled out a bit.

More drool came.

With him.

Clinging.


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Sticky.

Hanging.

Like syrup.

Like spider web.

Wet and shiny.


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I wasn’t swallowing.

Not anymore.

Not even trying.

There was no time.

Only movement.


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Push.

Pause.

Pull.

Pause.

Push again.


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Every deep stroke—

Brought the gag.

Not loud.

Not violent.

Just dull.


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Helpless choking.

From my throat.

Soft.

Regular.

Surrendered.


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“Ghhk—uhhn—ghk—”

That sound.

From me.

Every time.

Like habit.


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But he understood.

Somehow.

Without talking.

Without asking.

He knew.


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Because every time—

The gag hit hard,

He pulled back.

Just a little.

Just enough.


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Like his cock—

Knew.

Where to stop.

When to stop.

When to wait.


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As if—

It had done this before.

Trained.

Experienced.

Certain.


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Like my mouth—

Was a sheath.

For him.

Learning its shape.

Learning how to hold.


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My throat…

God.

It felt used.

Touched again and again.

Pressed and rubbed.


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Each movement—

Scratched the roof of my mouth.

Rubbed my tongue.

Nudged the back.

Hit the wall.


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That edge.

Where I couldn’t take more.

He danced on it.

Didn’t cross.

Just tested.


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Fucking my face—

Like music.

One-two.

One-two.

Slow drumbeat.


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Hypnotic.

Mindless.

Automatic.

And me—

Just there.


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Drooling.

Like a broken tap.

Steady line.

From lips to neck.

To chest.


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My whole chin—

Soaked.

Slippery.

Shiny.

Raw.


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Even my nose—

Was starting to run.

Thin drip.

Joining the wet mess.

No control.


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Still gagging.

Still choking.

But not stopping.

Not pulling back.

Not fighting.


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I didn’t know why.

Truly.

Didn’t understand.

But it was happening.

Like surrender.


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My body…

Had given in.

Some part of me.

Had accepted.

Without voice.


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His cock—

Moved in and out.

Wet.

Hot.

Salty.


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Rubbed my tongue.

Pressed my roof.

Claimed space.

Took shape.

Stayed there.


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That gag—

Now background.

Softer.

Like distant drum.

Not screaming.


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My hands—

Still holding his thighs.

Fingers curled.

Nails light.

No grip.


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Then suddenly—

He let go.

Of my head.

Just for a second.

I blinked.


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Then—

He took my right hand.

Firm grip.

Not rough.

Not loose.


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He pulled it.

Forward.

Then down.

I followed.

Still confused.


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Then I felt it.

Hair.

Curly.

Dense.

Wet with sweat.


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His balls.

My palm touched.

The skin.

Rough.

Soft beneath.


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Warm.

Swinging.

Alive.

Heavy.

Like small animal.


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He pressed my hand there.

Firmly.

Not forcing.

Just placing.

Like saying: hold this.


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I didn’t move.

Didn’t ask.

Just looked up.

Eyes glossy.

Throat twitching.


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His cock—

Still in my mouth.

Still moving.

Still filling.

Still there.


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Then I gripped.

Stupidly.

Awkward.

Like I didn’t know how.

Like mistake.


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They shifted.

Inside my hand.

Heavy.

Real.

Furry fruit.


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And his cock…

It didn’t stop.

It kept moving.

In and out.

In and out.


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Like it belonged there.

Fully.

Claimed.

Fitted.

And my mouth…

Was starting to shape around it.


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He was fucking my mouth.

No doubt now.

No maybe.

No confusion.

He was doing it.


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Fucking.

Not teasing.

Not nudging.

Not pressing.

But fucking.


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That rhythm—

It returned.

Same as before.

But different now.

Faster.


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The slow back-and-forth—

It changed.

Became something else.

Steady.

Relentless.


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Pump.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.


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No stop.

No wait.

No ask.

Just drive.

Just rhythm.


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My head—

It rocked with it.

Loose.

Like doll.

Like toy.


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My lips—

Flapping wetly.

Around his shaft.

Stretched.

Slippery.


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And I—

I was making sounds.

Me.

From my mouth.

From my throat.


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Not words.

Not cries.

Just noises.

Wet.

Helpless.


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“Mhhkk—ghk—mhhh—uhhn—”

Each one—

Fell out.

From inside.

Trapped.


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Trapped under him.

Under his thick length.

Each sound bouncing.

Off my tongue.

Out through lips.


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And the spit—

God.

There was so much.

Too much.

Endless.


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Thick.

Stringy.

Ropes of it.

Clinging to his shaft.

Pulling from my lips.


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Some of it—

Hung.

Between us.

Like thread.

Like glue.


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My mouth—

To his cock.

A bridge.

Made of spit.

Made of need.


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And in that spit—

Something new.

Something different.

Warm.

Strange.


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Pre-cum.

I could taste it.

Sudden.

Bitter.

Soft.


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Like plastic.

Like warm salt.

Like something not clean.

But not dirty either.

Just… there.


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I didn’t flinch.

Not even blink.

No protest.

My mouth…

Accepted it.


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That sharp urine stink—

From earlier.

It was fading.

Gone now.

Almost.


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Maybe my nose—

Had adjusted.

Or maybe—

His pre-cum washed it out.

Changed it.


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Now—

Only musk.

Male.

Warm.

Like locker.


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Not unpleasant.

Just strong.

Just heady.

Just there.

On my skin. In my mouth.


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And I—

I was still holding his balls.

No.

Not just holding.

Playing.


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When did that start?

I didn’t know.

Couldn’t remember.

Just happened.

Like breath.


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My fingers—

Moving without thought.

Curling around.

Squeezing gently.

Feeling him.


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They swung—

With every thrust.

Loose.

Heavy.

Real.


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And me—

Petting them.

Thumb circling.

Fingertips brushing hair.

Palm pressing soft.


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Like I knew how.

Like I’d done this before.

I hadn’t.

But my hand…

It remembered.


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Same rhythm.

Same tempo.

Same strokes.

My hand and his cock.

Moving together.


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And my mouth—

It had opened more.

Wider now.

No force.

Just surrender.


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I couldn’t take him fully.

Still too big.

Still too thick.

Still too much.

Still trying.


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Each thrust—

Left one inch outside.

The base.

Veined.

Slick with spit.


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Shiny.

Hard.

Waiting.

Beating with pulse.

Right at my lips.


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But he didn’t slow.

Not one bit.

He went faster.

Firmer.

Deeper.


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My head—

Jerked with each one.

Back and forth.

Like toy.

No control.


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His skin—

Slapped my lips.

Again and again.

Sticky sounds.

Sharp pressure.


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My throat—

Fluttered.

Tightened.

Jumped.

Held.


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The wet sounds—

Louder now.

Worse.

Obscene.

Unstoppable.


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“Ghhkk—uhhk—slrk—mmhh—”

Over and over.

No breaks.

No pause.

Just noise.


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Drool—

Ran freely now.

Down my chin.

Over my throat.

Dripped between my breasts.


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I couldn’t breathe fully.

Didn’t try.

Didn’t care.

Mouth too full.

Too stretched.


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My mouth—

Had given up.

It wasn’t mine.

Just a hole now.

His.


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A home for his cock.

Jaw aching.

Lips stinging.

Nose dripping.

Neck stiff.


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But my fingers—

Still played with his balls.

Gently.

Regular.

Like I owned them.


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Rolling.

Squeezing.

Petting.

Slow circles.

Like second nature.


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As if—

This was my job.

My role.

My ritual.

Mine.


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And my mind—

Blank.

No thought.

No plan.

Just rhythm.


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Only cock.

And spit.

And skin.

And pulse.

And movement.


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Then—

Suddenly—

He pulled out.

All of it.

One sharp move.


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That thick shaft—

Slid out.

Fast.

Wet.

Loud.


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“Plup.”

That sound.

Sloppy.

Smacking.

Like kiss.


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And I gasped.

Mouth still open.

Breath caught.

Throat sore.

Lips parted.


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Chin soaked.

Face red.

Eyes wet.

And hands—

Still there.


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Still cupping his balls.

Still holding him.

Like nothing had happened.


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The moment he pulled out—

I felt something.

Not relief.

Not freedom.

But emptiness.


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Empty.

Not only in my mouth.

Not only on my tongue.

But inside.

In my chest.


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In my head.

Like something unplugged.

Disconnected.

Removed.

Quiet.


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Air rushed in.

Fast.

Cold.

Strange.

Like winter breath.


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I coughed.

Once.

Then again.

Jaw snapped shut.

On its own.


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But it trembled.

Like shivering.

The corners of my lips—

They felt raw.

Pulled. Tired.


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My throat—

It throbbed.

Like pipe had been forced in.

Stretched.

Then removed.


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I blinked.

Once.

Then again.

My eyes wet.

My mind blank.


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Spit—

Ran down my chin.

Big drops.

Fat.

Sticky.


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Soaking into my blouse.

Right at the top.

Near the buttons.

Dark patch.

Wet cotton.


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My knees—

Still on the floor.

Still bent.

Still frozen.

Numb.


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My hands—

Still on him.

Still touching.

His balls.

Loose and wet.


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Then—

He looked at me.

Not smiling.

Not frowning.

Just… looking.


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Expressionless.

Nothing in his face.

No smirk.

No pride.

No victory.


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Just calm.

Like shadow.

Still.

Dark.

Present.


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And then—

He stood.

Slow.

No word.

No help.


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No kiss.

No touch.

No gesture.

Nothing.

Just standing.


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He adjusted himself.

Casually.

As if fixing a belt.

As if wiping his face.

Normal.


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For one second—

I stared up.

From below.

My knees still down.

My mouth still half open.


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My lips—

Swollen.

Sticky.

Shiny with spit.

Slightly open.


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He looked down.

At himself.

At his cock.

Wet.

Red near the ridge.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Coated in spit.

My spit.

Our spit.

From my mouth.

Still glistening.


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Then—

He looked away.

No word.

No kiss.

Nothing.


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That part—

It hit something.

Inside me.

Not pain.

Not rejection.


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Just space.

A strange space.

Empty.

Open.

Quiet.


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My hands—

Dropped.

Slow.

From his body.

To my lap.


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He unbuttoned his shirt.

Now.

One by one.

Slow fingers.

Like routine.


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Casual.

No rush.

No tension.

Like at home.

Like comfort.


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Like it was his room.

Not mine.

Not shared.

Only his.

Only for him.


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He dropped the shirt.

Then vest.

Then pants.

Then underwear.

Everything.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


All on the floor.

One pile.

Soft cloth.

Empty shell.

Gone.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


And me—

Still kneeling.

Still silent.

Still wet-faced.

Still warm.


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He walked over.

Naked.

Without shame.

Without pause.

Without mask.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Thick legs.

Dark with hair.

Feet firm.

Steps slow.

Close.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Belly soft.

But full.

Chest open.

Cock hanging.

Still wet.


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He sat.

On the bed.

Our bed.

Just like that.

No ask.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Right in the middle.

Legs wide.

Balls resting down.

Between his thighs.

Like they belonged there.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I blinked again.

Still down.

Still floor.

Still stuck.

Still spinning.


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What was I doing?

What was this?

What was happening?

No answer.

Just breath.


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He reached.

Grabbed my wrist.

Simple hold.

Not tight.

Just sure.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He pulled.

Gently.

Forward.

Up.

Inviting.


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I stood.

Slow.

Legs wobbled.

Unsteady.

Still dazed.


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No words.

From him.

From me.

Only breath.

Only silence.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Breathing hard.

But quiet.

Face hot.

Chest tight.

Skin buzzing.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He pulled me closer.

Still holding my wrist.

Then leaned back.

On the bed.

One slow motion.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Flat.

Back on sheet.

Like resting.

Like relaxing.

After long day.


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And me—

He pulled me too.

Right on top.

I stumbled.

Fell a little.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Knees landed.

On the bed.

Either side of his hips.

Now I was—

Straddling him.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Me fully clothed.

He, fully nude.

My skirt loose.

His cock softening.

But warm.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My thighs—

Touched his stomach.

Light.

Warm.

Firm.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My breasts—

Just above his chest.

Breath rising.

And falling.

Like tide.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


His cock—

Touched my inner thigh.

Still wet.

From my mouth.

Sticky heat.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I felt it.

Breathless.

Was he going to—

Fuck me?

Was this it?


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Done with my mouth.

Now ready for more?

For next part?

I didn’t know.

My body asked.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


But he didn’t move.

Not like that.

Didn’t thrust.

Didn’t pull.

Didn’t open buttons.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He slid down.

Back against bedsheet.

Head to pillow.

Hips flat.

Eyes calm.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


And he pulled me.

With him.

Not rough.

But straight.

Smooth shift.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Now I was lower.

My hips moved.

Back.

To balance.

To hold position.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


And I felt it.

Suddenly.

His knees.

Under my thighs.

Supporting me.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He had moved me.

Not over his cock.

Not between legs.

But back.

Lower.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My ass—

Now resting just above his knees.

Skirt bunched.

Thighs exposed.

Breath quick.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Then his hands came.

Both.

Upward.

To my shoulders.

Firm.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


And he pushed.

Not body.

Not waist.

But head.

My head.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Down.

Slowly.

Guiding.

Not force.

But final.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


No struggle.

No option.

Just path.

One line.

One command.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I froze.

Just for one second.

Paused.

Because I knew.

Already knew.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Where he was sending me.

What he wanted.

Where this was going.

My mouth had taken him.

Now he wanted more.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He pushed again.

Gently.

But sure.

And I obeyed.

No protest.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My head lowered.

Neck bending.

Hair falling.

Face moving down.

Over his stomach.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Past his belly.

Past his navel.

Breath hot on skin.

Eyes half closed.

Breath slower.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


And then…

Right to his balls.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He removed his hand from my head.

Just like that.

No grip now.

No fingers.

No weight.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Just air.

Just nothing.

Like a thread snapped.

Like leash untied.

Like he trusted.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Trusted I’d stay.

Trusted I’d do.

Trusted I’d finish.

Not with words.

But with stillness.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He didn’t move.

Didn’t pull.

Didn’t guide.

Just waited.

Just breathed.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


And me—

I didn’t move either.

Not right away.

Not fast.

Not with want.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Just stayed.

Right there.

Face hanging.

Just above his crotch.

So close.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My breath—

It brushed.

Softly.

Across his skin.

Across those balls.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


They were right there.

Hanging.

Loose.

Heavy.

Still damp.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I looked at them.

Just looked.

One second.

Two.

Three.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Half-shaven.

Half-wild.

Hair stuck to sweat.

Curly tufts.

Skin dark.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Darker than before.

Maybe from spit.

Maybe from blood.

Maybe from shadow.

I didn’t know.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


They moved.

Just a little.

Every breath he took—

They twitched.

Soft sway.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


The skin—

So strange.

Wrinkled.

But soft.

Like dried fruit.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


But heavier.

Fleshier.

More alive.

Not dry.

Not dead.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I swallowed.

Once.

Hard.

Throat sore.

Still sore.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Then my tongue came out.

Slow.

Unsure.

Like it was learning.

Like it wasn’t mine.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My hand—

It moved too.

Without thought.

Reached.

Found him.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


His cock.

Still warm.

Still damp.

Still thick.

Still real.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I wrapped my fingers around.

Held.

Felt it settle.

Heavier than before.

Like it knew my palm.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My thumb—

It rubbed.

Gently.

Just under.

Near the base.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Slick already.

From spit.

From before.

Still wet.

Still pulsing.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Then I leaned.

Head down.

Face close.

Lips parted.

Tongue forward.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


And touched.

Just touched.

With the tip.

One ball.

One stroke.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


The taste—

It hit.

Fast.

Strong.

Familiar now.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


That smell.

That same smell.

From before.

Sour.

Male.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Like briefs.

Like old clothes.

Like sweat.

And maybe…

A little piss.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


But I didn’t stop.

Didn’t recoil.

Didn’t blink.

My head stayed.

My tongue moved.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Maybe I was used to it.

Maybe my brain…

Had shifted.

Maybe I didn’t care.

Not anymore.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I licked again.

Slower.

Longer.

From base to fold.

Savoring.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Salty.

Musky.

Real.

Like skin.

Alive skin.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


His thighs—

They jerked.

One twitch.

Then still.

Then breath.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I didn’t stop.

Swirled now.

Circles.

Little ones.

Between them.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Where the skin folded.

Where they met.

That seam.

That soft crease.

I licked there.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He was silent.

Still.

But I felt him.

His chest.

Rising slower.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Like melting.

Like surrender.

Like trust.

Not loud.

But full.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My hand—

It gripped.

Tighter now.

His shaft—

It grew.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Thicker.

Heavier.

Hardening again.

With each lick.

With each second.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I bent lower.

Mouth open.

One ball.

I sucked it.

Gently.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


It filled me.

Not like his cock.

Different.

Soft.

But full.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Slippery.

Warm.

Skin folding.

My tongue underneath.

Holding.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Then I let go.

And took the other.

Same way.

Same suck.

Same pull.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


His crotch—

It was soaked.

From my mouth.

From drool.

From breath.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Wet sounds.

Sticky.

Thin trails.

From lips to skin.

To crease.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Then I moved.

Mouth up.

Tongue out.

From base to top.

One long drag.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Over veins.

Over shaft.

Over ridge.

Up to tip.

There it was.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Pre-cum.

A drop.

Clear.

Sticky.

Waiting.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I didn’t think.

Just moved.

Lips wrapped.

Mouth opened.

I began.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My second one.

A blowjob.

Slow.

Focused.

Careful.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He slid in.

Not all.

Still big.

Still hard.

But smoother.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My hand stayed.

At the base.

Guiding.

Helping.

Holding.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My lips moved.

Better now.

My tongue—

It knew.

Where to press.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I sucked.

I licked.

I pulled.

I gave.

And he—


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He lay there.

Still.

Flat.

Naked.

Quiet.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Eyes closed.

One arm up.

The other near me.

Not touching.

Just resting.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He wasn’t watching.

Wasn’t moving.

Wasn’t helping.

Just letting me.

Just receiving.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Like it was normal.

Like it was mine to do.

Like I belonged there.

Mouth full.

Heart quiet.

I kept going.

Just like that.

My lips—

They stayed on him.

My hand—


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


It kept moving.

Together.

With my mouth.

With my breath.

No thought now.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Just rhythm.

Slow.

Steady.

Even.

Like habit.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


In.

Out.

Suck.

Glide.

Hold.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My tongue curled.

Under the shaft.

Each time.

A little scoop.

A little press.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My lips—

They held him.

Not tight.

Not loose.

Just enough.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Spit covered everything.

My mouth.

My chin.

The base of his cock.

The sheet beneath us.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


It was wet now.

So wet.

Sticky threads.

Glossy sheen.

Sloppy sounds.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


And I—

I didn’t care.

Not even a little.

My jaw ached.

But I didn’t stop.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He tasted—

Like salt.

Like skin.

Like heat.

And something deeper.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Something leftover.

From earlier.

From me.

From us.

Mixed.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Then suddenly—

It changed.

His hand came down.

Fast.

Firm.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Right on my head.

The back.

One palm.

Heavy.

Not angry.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Not guiding.

Not pressing in.

Not controlling.

Just—

Stopping.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


A pause.

A halt.

A message.

And I froze.

Mid-suck.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


His cock—

Still inside.

Halfway.

Still warm.

Still slick.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My fingers—

Still gripping.

Still holding the base.

Steady.

Waiting.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Then he pulled me.

Upward.

Not rough.

Not sudden.

Just… upward.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Like lifting something.

Something soft.

From the ground.

He picked me.

From his cock.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I followed.

Mouth wet.

Nose blocked.

Eyes blinking.

Face flushed.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I moved up.

Across him.

Chest.

Stomach.

Belly.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Then—

He kissed me.

Finally.

Without waiting.

Without pause.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


His lips—

They landed.

On mine.

Wet.

Heavy.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


No gentleness.

No question.

Just kiss.

Full.

Claiming.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


His tongue—

It entered.

Fast.

Certain.

Hungry.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He tasted me.

And him.

Mixed together.

On my lips.

In my mouth.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


There was no shame.

No flinch.

No grimace.

Just more.

More kiss.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Hot breath.

Wet lips.

Soft noses brushing.

His hand—

It found my waist.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Held me there.

Then—

A shift.

One movement.

One turn.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He flipped me.

Like page.

Like cloth.

Onto my back.

Flat.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I gasped.

One sound.

Soft.

Breathless.

Surprised.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


The bed caught me.

Sheets wrinkled.

Skirt bunched.

Hair stuck.

Face warm.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He didn’t stop.

Not even wait.

Hands came.

Strong.

Heavy.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Under my knees.

Gripping.

Pushing.

Opening.

Wide.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Wider than I would.

Wider than I could.

My legs—

They trembled.

Shocked.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


The air touched me.

Cool.

Wet.

Right there.

Between.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My panties—

Soaked.

Like glue.

Clinging.

Melting.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He grabbed them.

No gentleness.

No slow.

Just tug.

Snap.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Elastic pulled.

Snapped.

Then down.

To my knees.

Left hanging.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I didn’t speak.

Couldn’t.

My heart—

It thundered.

Too loud.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


In my ears.

In my throat.

My whole body—

Buzzing.

Still.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He moved.

Sat between my legs.

Firm.

Ready.

Cock in hand.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Hard now.

Wet.

Red.

Shiny.

Aimed.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He looked.

Down.

At me.

At my centre.

Then pressed.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I gasped.

One sharp sound.

Mouth open.

Head back.

“Ahhh—”


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


The tip—

It touched me.

Hot.

Alive.

Real.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My folds parted.

From the heat.

From the pressure.

And he—

He pushed.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Just one inch.

But it burned.

Not sharp.

But deep.

Stretching.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Like opening.

A part of me.

That was shut.

For too long.

Now waking.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He pushed more.

My hips jerked.

My back arched.

His hands—

They held me down.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


No delay.

No ask.

Just push.

Inch by inch.

Heavier.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My walls fought.

Tight.

Clenching.

But losing.

Slowly.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


“Unghh…”

That sound—

It escaped.

From me.

From deep.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


It hurt.

Yes.

It stretched.

Yes.

But—


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


God—

I needed it.

That ache.

That press.

That weight.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Even if it tore.

Even if I wept.

Even if it marked me.

I needed him.

Inside.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


That cock.

That thickness.

That pain.

That pressure.

That fill.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He entered me.

Truly.

Finally.

No stopping.

No pause.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Slow.

Deliberate.

So slow.

Not harsh.

Not sudden.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Just one…

Long…

Push.

Heavy.

Full.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I felt it.

Every inch.

Every line.

As he spread me.

Wider.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My lips parted.

No sound.

Just breath.

Through my nose.

Sharp.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He was inside.

Truly inside.

Not just touching.

Not just pressing.

But in.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


The first inch—

It felt like a punch.

Like a fist.

Thick.

Intruding.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Then the second.

Deeper.

Hotter.

Heavier.

Like a stretch.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Then the third.

My walls—

They fluttered.

Squeezed.

Tried to adjust.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


It was heat.

Real heat.

Not just friction.

But pressure.

Weight.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


His cock—

I already knew.

It was thick.

But inside—

It felt bigger.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Too big.

Too deep.

Like it was making space.

Carving room.

Inside me.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Space that wasn’t there.

He pulled back.

Slow.

Wet.

A soft squelch.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I gasped.

Not loud.

Just air.

Pulled in.

From shock.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Then he pushed.

Again.

Same way.

Same weight.

Same press.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Push.

Pull.

Push.

Pull.

The rhythm started.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Slow strokes.

Measured.

Steady.

Like he was learning me.

From inside.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My hips shifted.

Automatically.

They rose.

They tilted.

They gave in.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My pussy—

It changed.

Softened.

Opened more.

Welcomed him.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Juice leaked out.

Warm.

Thin.

Not gushing.

Just streaming.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Soaking the sheet.

Under my ass.

Under my thighs.

His rhythm deepened.

Push.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Pull.

Push.

More push.

My walls—

They clung.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Tighter now.

Not resisting.

Needing.

My body…

It wanted.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Each stroke—

More welcome.

More right.

More deep.

He slid.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Veins.

I felt them.

Real.

Ridges.

Thick.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Along the sides.

Like ropes.

Brushing inside.

Every push.

Every pull.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Not painful.

Not hard.

Just… textured.

Raw.

Intense.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Pleasure—

Not smooth.

But ribbed.

Alive.

Gripping me.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I clenched.

All of me.

A twitch.

A flutter.

A gasp.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


And then—

He went deeper.

All the way.

One push.

Fully inside.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My mouth opened.

Shock.

Full shock.

My belly—

Tight.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I could feel him.

Everywhere.

Entrance.

Deep inside.

Higher.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Near my stomach.

So deep.

So thick.

He filled me.

Completely.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Then—

Faster.

Suddenly.

No warning.

He moved.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Thrusting.

Hard.

Steady.

Again.

And again.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


The bed—

It rocked.

Creaked.

Under us.

With us.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Slap.

Slap.

Slap.

Flesh.

On flesh.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


No gentleness.

No tease.

Just fuck.

Real.

Raw.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Sticky sounds.

Wet rhythm.

His weight—

It hovered.

Over me.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Not crushing.

But there.

His stomach—

It brushed mine.

His hairs—


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Tickled my thighs.

My smooth skin.

His breath—

On my cheek.

Hot.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Fast.

Sharp.

Real.

His mouth moved.

To my neck.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He kissed.

Not sweet.

Not hard.

Just present.

Wet lips.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


On my throat.

Gliding.

Sucking.

Tongue sometimes.

Skin to skin.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


And still—

Still thrusting.

Fast now.

Too fast.

My body—


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


It couldn’t match.

My hips twitched.

Tried to move.

To meet.

To follow.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


But he was faster.

Harder.

I just took it.

Arms loose.

Eyes shut.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Gasps.

From my mouth.

Moans.

Through teeth.

Breath cut.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


His hands—

One grabbed my hip.

Held me steady.

The other—

Found my breast.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Full grab.

Firm.

Not playful.

Not gentle.

Just… his.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Fingers around.

Thumb brushing.

My nipple—

Still covered.

Still sensitive.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He didn’t lift the top.

Didn’t need to.

He pressed.

Hard enough.

Through cloth.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


My breast bounced.

With every thrust.

Every slap.

Jiggling under him.

Under his palm.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


He was enjoying it.

Fully.

Completely.

Owning the moment.

And me.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Fucking me.

Like the bed was his.

Like the room was his.

Like my body—

Was his too.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - -


And it was.

Right then.

Right there.

It all was.

Ours.