Adultery Life of Avi Singh

[lee.jae.han]

## Update 145: The Sacrifice and the Violation (Avi and Sweta Didi)

I bolted out of the room right behind Sweta Didi. Didi was already fumbling with the heavy front gate latch.

"Avi, stop Didi!" Sital yelled, her voice urgent and laced with panic, rushing toward me.

My feet hesitated. "You know exactly what she wants if I stop her, Sital," I replied, a cold, heavy feeling settling in the pit of my stomach.

"I know," Sital pleaded, taking a step toward me. "But if she goes out into the village naked like this, we'll all be shamed forever. The whole family's honor will be ruined."

"But I can't just fuck her, she's—" I started, struggling with the moral boundary. Sital cut me off sharply.

"Do it with Didi! Nothing will happen, just do it with her! Hurry up, Didi is opening the gate!" she urged me, her words a direct, desperate command.

Didi managed to push the heavy gate open. It was only the grace of the village's early bedtime that saved us; no one was outside to see Didi's naked form against the darkness. I surged forward, grabbed her from behind, lifted her off the ground, and carried her struggling body back toward the room. Sital quickly closed the gate and bolted it, her hands shaking. I tossed Didi onto the bed. She immediately tried to scramble out of my grasp.

"You motherfucker! You're not doing anything! Let me go! You impotent bastard!" she screamed, thrashing wildly.

Didi's curses, especially the word "impotent," felt like a physical punch to my gut. A hot, blinding wave of pure rage surged through me, causing my vision to narrow and my hands to clench so hard my nails dug into my palms. My breath stopped in my throat, and I felt the powerful, desperate urge to throw her down and violently prove her wrong.

But then, the thought slammed into me: *Didi is drunk. She is not in her right mind today. She is crying inside with pain for Rohan.* She just needs a way to vent her utter humiliation and anger.

I controlled the violent surge of my anger, forced my hands to relax, and decided that if I had to fuck her, it would be done with a strange, forced kind of love and care, not rage.

I came on top of Didi and covered her mouth with mine, immediately starting to suck her lips. I could smell the strong, pungent odor of the vodka emanating from her mouth, but despite that, I continued the kiss, giving her deep, insistent contact. She also started kissing me back like a madwoman, consuming my lips. Didi was first taking out her rage on me for Rohan's betrayal, and now, she was violently showing her twisted love for him through me. She started sucking my lips, sometimes the upper one, sometimes the lower one, in sharp, possessive attacks.

While kissing, my hands began working elsewhere. One hand settled on her full breasts, kneading the soft flesh, and the other moved down to the center of her legs, resting on her chooť. Didi was quite heated now; I felt the unmistakable slickness of her chooť leaking onto my fingers. I didn't waste another second. I moved down, put my tongue right on Didi's chooť, and started licking it greedily. After thoroughly licking her chooť, I concentrated on playing with her clitoris.

Didi became even more heated, her hips beginning to rise toward my face. I moved up again and started sucking her breasts in my mouth. I kept massaging her chooť steadily with one hand while I moved between her firm nipples. One by one, I took both breasts into my mouth, giving Didi a desperate, confusing pleasure.

Then, I attacked her chooť again. This time, I pressed my tongue inside her chooť and started fucking it with my tongue. Didi started moaning—a silent, muffled sound into the pillow. The combined effect of the strong vodka and the intense oral sex was too much for her to handle for long, and her chooť released its water in a sudden, warm flood.

I drank all the water greedily and stood up. Didi immediately sat up and started aggressively taking off my clothes.

"Sweta, that's enough now. We should stop this," I said, catching her hands, trying to reason with her drunken mind.

"Shut up, motherfucker! If you say another word, I'll find something and cut off your lunď and throw it away! You were having so much fun with that girl at the mall, what's so wrong with me that you hesitate?" she yelled, her voice breaking.

Didi didn't wait. The last of the liquor and her raw emotional pain drove her to finish stripping off my remaining clothes violently. She tore at the fabric in her rush. The second my lunď was free, she dropped down and immediately began sucking it. This wasn't about slow pleasure; it was a frenzied, mad hunger.

I quickly glanced at Sital. Her face was serious, but she gave me a slight nod, a silent sign that stopping was impossible and I had to continue with the inevitable.

My mind raced, trying to justify the madness: *If I do this with one sister, I'm a bastard. If I do it with ten, I'm still a bastard. The line is already crossed.*

Didi's control was completely gone. She used her mouth on my lunď with a desperate, consuming force. She attacked my shaft, biting and pulling, and licking every surface of my lunď like a starving creature.

Her actions grew even more chaotic. Driven by the destructive power of the alcohol, she pushed her head lower, burying it between my legs. She started to suck and lick my testicles (balls) with a wild, rough energy.

Without pausing, she moved lower to the sensitive skin of my gaand. She licked my asshole with a terrifying, wild intensity. She was clearly trying to destroy every boundary left between us.

When she finally pulled away, breathing hard and raggedly, I gently laid her back onto the bed. I looked at Sital again. She shook her head slightly, her eyes wide open, urging me to move forward and finish the act. The final violation, now demanded by Didi's drunkenness and Sital's urgent signal, had to happen.

*The future plan clicked into place:* Didi is drunk now. When she finds out tomorrow what I did, I will tell her Sital's name. I will explain that I only did all this on Sital's frantic advice to save the family honor. After I have sex with Sweta Didi, when she inevitably asks me why I committed this act, I will tell her the half-truth. She won't believe me, but if Sital says it too, Sweta Didi might understand that what happened was a terrible consequence of her own drunken actions.

I looked at Sital again, seeking confirmation. She again nodded and urged me to move forward.

I positioned my lunď against the entrance of Didi's chooť. I slowly began to apply pressure, but Didi was a virgin, and the lunď refused to go in. I kept trying, adjusting the angle. Didi, feeling the pressure of my lunď on her sensitive chooť, became frustrated and angry at the failure. She slapped me hard on the cheek again. At that same moment, I took a hard, powerful thrust. The slap hit me, but a raw, agonizing scream tore from Didi's throat. I looked directly at Sital and gave another sudden, forceful thrust, consecrating the lunď with Sweta Didi's blood. My lunď had successfully put its mark on another chooť, breaking the final seal.

I immediately covered Didi's mouth tightly with my hand. Didi was struggling and moaning in sharp pain against my palm. I quickly lowered my head and started kissing Didi fiercely, hoping the oral contact would give her some relief. For a while, I didn't move my hips at all, letting her body adjust to the invasion.

Then, Didi finally put her own hands on my ass and started pushing my lunď deeper in. It was the signal I was waiting for—Didi wanted the entire lunď inside her. I gave a final, deep thrust and put the entire lunď inside Sweta Didi's chooť.

Whenever my lunď goes into a chooť for the first time, a sharp, powerful scream always comes out. My lunď has even made used women scream in pleasure and surprise. Didi was a virgin, so her scream was inevitable. But her painful scream was completely muffled by my hand and the fierce kiss. I started pressing her breasts with my hands. After a short while, Didi's pain subsided. I slowly, tentatively started to move my waist.

Didi was still in pain, but she was carefully hiding it. She seemed desperate not to show the agony. Perhaps Didi was thinking that if Rohan had seen her pain, he would have thought of having sex with that other girl instead of her. Because of this deep-seated fear of rejection, Didi was masking her pain. Or perhaps the numbing effect of the vodka was successfully hiding the sharp edges of her pain.

But Didi's pain didn't last long. After a short while, she started to find pleasure in the movement. Didi began lifting her hips with my thrusts, eagerly taking the lunď deep inside. I glanced at Sital. She was completely heated up just from watching us have sex. Sital was vigorously rubbing her own chooť over her clothes.

I whispered to Sital to come closer and join the action, but she refused with a firm shake of her head. Sital refused because she correctly reasoned that if Sweta Didi was mentally mistaking me for Rohan, she might mistake Sital for the girl because of whom Rohan left her. Given that Sweta Didi could hit me, whom she supposedly loved, what would she do to the rival? That's why Sital refused to come.

Then, I focused all my attention back onto Sweta Didi. I knew I could get Sital anytime I wanted, but it would be nearly impossible to have sex with Sweta Didi again under these circumstances. I increased my speed, driving hard into her. Didi responded by increasing the speed of her own moans (now muffled in my neck). On the other side of the room, Sital also increased the frantic speed of rubbing her chooť.

I kept having sex with Sweta Didi for a solid thirty minutes. Then, my lunď gave up in front of her chooť. I lay heavily on top of Sweta Didi for a moment, letting my breathing slow. Then, I rolled off her. Didi was lying on the bed with her eyes closed, completely asleep, overcome by the alcohol and the traumatic, physical release.

I looked toward the gate; Sital wasn't there anymore. She had gone back to her room to recover herself.

I lay down next to Didi, pulling a sheet over our bodies, and quickly fell asleep.

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