13-01-2026, 11:16 PM
Ashok did not slow, his body seized by a rhythm beyond conscious control. He hammered her, hard and insistent, the bed groaning under their combined need. The third spasm sent another rush of cum into Latha, and this time, she felt it overflow, a trickle escaping her clenched pussy to drip down the crease of her thigh. Each movement smeared the mess further, making her slicker, the sounds of their joining growing louder, wetter, more obscene.
The fourth pulse came as he withdrew nearly all the way, his cockhead caught tight in the velvet ring of her entrance, and the spurt hit the edge, leaking out immediately, leaving a milky trail along the folds of her vulva. Latha could feel the warmth bead and slip, sticky and cool in the air. She blushed, half from embarrassment, half from the thrill of being so thoroughly claimed.
Ashok’s vision swam as a fifth contraction, smaller but no less intense, rocketed another glob inside her. His hips stuttered, legs threatening to give out, but he braced himself and kept going, the need to empty himself into her overwhelming all other concerns. He pulled her hips back against him with both hands, slamming into her with a force that left them both breathless. The sixth and seventh pulses blurred together, each one a frantic flare of pleasure that left her cunt overflowing.
Latha’s arms wrapped tighter around his hips, her voice muffled by the pillow as she tried to speak through the onslaught of new sensation.
“Anna… it’s too much… I can feel every drop, it’s so thick… I never imagined it would be like this…”
Her body trembled violently, the combination of fullness and heat overwhelming her.
“It feels like you are melting into me, Anna! Like my whole womb is glowing. Is this how it is supposed to feel?”
Her voice was filled with awe, her innocence raw and exposed, even as she instinctively ground herself back against him, milking the last spasms from his shaft with hungry, involuntary squeezes.
Ashok could only groan in response, his hands gripping her ass as he pumped another slow, luxurious thrust, savoring the wet, noisy squelch of his seed mixing with her juices, oozing out around his cock and slicking their thighs. He was still hard, still inside her, and he felt a dangerous urge to keep going, to see how much of himself she could take. He bent down over her back, kissing the nape of her neck.
“You’re amazing, Latha… you’re perfect…” His words were feral, unguarded, and as he spoke he slid his hand under her stomach, feeling the subtle swell there, as if he could sense his own sperm pooling deep inside her, desperate to take root.
Latha moaned, her legs trembling with aftershocks. “Anna, I feel so full… I never want it to stop. Please, can you… keep it inside, just for a little longer? I want to remember what it feels like to have your seed inside me, all night.” She shuddered at her own boldness, the admission somehow more intimate than the act itself.
Ashok withdrew with a slow, soft gasp, and they both watched as a pearly ribbon of his cum dripped from her, trailing down her thigh before pooling on the sheets. Latha stared in fascination, her fingers reaching back to touch the mess, her expression a mix of pride and wonder. “We made this together,” she said softly. “It’s like a promise, Anna. You gave me your everything.”
He rolled her onto her back, pulling her to his chest, and for a long while they simply lay there, sticky and spent, her head on his shoulder.
Latha’s hand drifted down between her legs, idly tracing the slickness that coated her inner thighs. “Is it okay if I… hold some of it inside, Anna?” she asked, her voice small.
“Maybe, if I am lucky, there will be a miracle. Maybe I will be yours forever.”
Ashok felt a pang of something he could not name, guilt, yes, but also a fierce, possessive gratitude that Latha wanted this with him, that she understood the gravity of what they’d done and welcomed it. He kissed her, lips lingering on her brow.
“You already are, Latha. You already are.”
Outside, the moon had risen, casting a pale blue light across the room. Latha drifted toward sleep, her hands still cupped protectively over her belly. Ashok watched her, thinking of Vanitha’s photograph on the dresser, its smile now less a condemnation than a approval.
He wondered if, somewhere far away, his wife was lying with another man, or if she was truly as alone as she’d seemed in their last phone call. He wondered if, when she returned, she would know from the change in his gaze that he had crossed an impossible threshold, and that nothing in their marriage would ever be the same.
But for tonight, Ashok let himself forget. He let himself believe in miracles, in the power of Latha’s small, hopeful hand pressed to her stomach, in the ancient story of two bodies coming together to make a new world.
He slept with Latha’s breath warm in his ear, her body curled around his, and in the quiet dark, he dared to wish for a future that belonged to them both.
The fourth pulse came as he withdrew nearly all the way, his cockhead caught tight in the velvet ring of her entrance, and the spurt hit the edge, leaking out immediately, leaving a milky trail along the folds of her vulva. Latha could feel the warmth bead and slip, sticky and cool in the air. She blushed, half from embarrassment, half from the thrill of being so thoroughly claimed.
Ashok’s vision swam as a fifth contraction, smaller but no less intense, rocketed another glob inside her. His hips stuttered, legs threatening to give out, but he braced himself and kept going, the need to empty himself into her overwhelming all other concerns. He pulled her hips back against him with both hands, slamming into her with a force that left them both breathless. The sixth and seventh pulses blurred together, each one a frantic flare of pleasure that left her cunt overflowing.
Latha’s arms wrapped tighter around his hips, her voice muffled by the pillow as she tried to speak through the onslaught of new sensation.
“Anna… it’s too much… I can feel every drop, it’s so thick… I never imagined it would be like this…”
Her body trembled violently, the combination of fullness and heat overwhelming her.
“It feels like you are melting into me, Anna! Like my whole womb is glowing. Is this how it is supposed to feel?”
Her voice was filled with awe, her innocence raw and exposed, even as she instinctively ground herself back against him, milking the last spasms from his shaft with hungry, involuntary squeezes.
Ashok could only groan in response, his hands gripping her ass as he pumped another slow, luxurious thrust, savoring the wet, noisy squelch of his seed mixing with her juices, oozing out around his cock and slicking their thighs. He was still hard, still inside her, and he felt a dangerous urge to keep going, to see how much of himself she could take. He bent down over her back, kissing the nape of her neck.
“You’re amazing, Latha… you’re perfect…” His words were feral, unguarded, and as he spoke he slid his hand under her stomach, feeling the subtle swell there, as if he could sense his own sperm pooling deep inside her, desperate to take root.
Latha moaned, her legs trembling with aftershocks. “Anna, I feel so full… I never want it to stop. Please, can you… keep it inside, just for a little longer? I want to remember what it feels like to have your seed inside me, all night.” She shuddered at her own boldness, the admission somehow more intimate than the act itself.
Ashok withdrew with a slow, soft gasp, and they both watched as a pearly ribbon of his cum dripped from her, trailing down her thigh before pooling on the sheets. Latha stared in fascination, her fingers reaching back to touch the mess, her expression a mix of pride and wonder. “We made this together,” she said softly. “It’s like a promise, Anna. You gave me your everything.”
He rolled her onto her back, pulling her to his chest, and for a long while they simply lay there, sticky and spent, her head on his shoulder.
Latha’s hand drifted down between her legs, idly tracing the slickness that coated her inner thighs. “Is it okay if I… hold some of it inside, Anna?” she asked, her voice small.
“Maybe, if I am lucky, there will be a miracle. Maybe I will be yours forever.”
Ashok felt a pang of something he could not name, guilt, yes, but also a fierce, possessive gratitude that Latha wanted this with him, that she understood the gravity of what they’d done and welcomed it. He kissed her, lips lingering on her brow.
“You already are, Latha. You already are.”
Outside, the moon had risen, casting a pale blue light across the room. Latha drifted toward sleep, her hands still cupped protectively over her belly. Ashok watched her, thinking of Vanitha’s photograph on the dresser, its smile now less a condemnation than a approval.
He wondered if, somewhere far away, his wife was lying with another man, or if she was truly as alone as she’d seemed in their last phone call. He wondered if, when she returned, she would know from the change in his gaze that he had crossed an impossible threshold, and that nothing in their marriage would ever be the same.
But for tonight, Ashok let himself forget. He let himself believe in miracles, in the power of Latha’s small, hopeful hand pressed to her stomach, in the ancient story of two bodies coming together to make a new world.
He slept with Latha’s breath warm in his ear, her body curled around his, and in the quiet dark, he dared to wish for a future that belonged to them both.
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