27-01-2026, 03:24 AM
Feroz groaned low in his throat—the sound raw, almost pained—and reached for her hands.
He took both of her wrists gently but firmly, lifting them above her head in one slow, careful motion. His large hands pinned them to the pillow—fingers interlacing with hers, holding her arms stretched out, her body arched and open beneath him. The position made her breasts lift higher, the soaked bra clinging even more tightly, nipples straining visibly against the lace.
He leaned down—forehead coming to rest against hers, noses brushing in the smallest, most intimate touch. Their breaths mingled—hot, fast, uneven—lips so close they could feel each other’s exhales. His eyes searched hers in the amber light—dark, conflicted, filled with guilt and raw, aching need. Hers stared back—wide, vulnerable, shimmering with the same storm of emotions.
For a long moment they just stayed like that—foreheads pressed, noses brushing, breathing each other in, hearts pounding in sync.
Then he began to move.
Slow. Steady. Deliberate.
His hips rolled forward—gentle, controlled—grinding his hardness along her core through the fabric. The movement was languid, unhurried, savoring every second of contact. Each forward roll dragged him along her slick folds, teasing her clit with the perfect amount of pressure, building a slow, burning friction that made her thighs quiver and her breath come in soft, broken gasps.
Her fingers tightened in his grip, wrists flexing against his hold, but she didn’t fight it. Instead she surrendered—body yielding, opening to every gentle thrust, every slow grind.
Feroz took his time—enjoying every second of her. Every hitch in her breath. Every soft moan that spilled from her lips. Every tremble of her thighs around his hips. Every flutter of her pulse against his forehead.
He rolled again—deeper this time—pressing harder, lingering longer, letting her feel the full length of him sliding along her through the damp fabric. Kavya gasped—sharp, needy—her hips bucking up to meet him, seeking more friction, more pressure, more of him.
He groaned low against her forehead—nose still brushing hers, breath hot on her lips. His hips kept moving—slow, steady, torturously patient—each roll a promise, each grind a confession. He savored her—the heat of her, the wetness soaking through her salwar, the way her body trembled and opened for him with every slow thrust.
Kavya’s moans grew softer, deeper. She was lost in it—the slow, deliberate pleasure, the way he took his time, the way he worshipped her with every movement.
They stayed like that—foreheads pressed, noses brushing, his hips rolling slow and steady between her legs— enjoying every second, every gasp, every tremor— bodies speaking what words never could.
Feroz’s hips had been moving in that slow, deliberate rhythm—each roll gentle but deep, savoring every second of contact, every soft hitch in her breath. The wet lace of her bra still clung to her breasts, soaked from his earlier sucking, nipples hard and visible beneath the fabric. His mouth had returned to her neck—kissing passionately along both sides, lips open, tongue swirling over the sensitive pulse points, sucking gently then harder, stubble scbanging deliciously against her skin. Kavya’s hands were in his hair, fingers threaded and tugging, pulling him closer as her body arched beneath him, offering her throat, her breasts, her everything.
Then—without warning—his rhythm changed.
He increased the speed—still controlled, still measured, but faster now. His hips rolled quicker, each forward motion dragging his hardness along her slick folds through the thin layers of their clothes. The friction built rapidly—teasing her clit with every pass, pressing deeper, harder, faster.
Kavya gasped—sharp, desperate. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down, pressing her face into his shoulder as her body trembled violently. Every quick roll of his hips brought her closer—closer to him, closer to the edge—her breaths turning to soft, gasping cries against his neck. “Papa…” she breathed, voice breaking, “Papa…”
He groaned low in his throat—raw, primal—the sound muffled against her skin. His hips moved faster for a few minutes—steady, relentless—each thrust grinding against her core with perfect precision, building the pleasure higher, tighter, until her whole body was trembling, thighs quivering, hips bucking up to meet him, chasing the friction, chasing release.
Then—he slowed.
Abruptly.
His hips stilled for a heartbeat—pressed hard against her, throbbing—then rolled forward again—deeper this time. One slow, powerful thrust—grinding deep, lingering, letting her feel every inch of him. Kavya’s back bowed off the bed, a choked moan tearing from her throat. He did it again—second deep thrust—slow, deliberate, pressing firmly against her clit and holding there, letting the pressure build until she whimpered. Third thrust—deeper still—hips rolling with controlled force, grinding hard, making her gasp and clutch him tighter, nails scoring his back.
He lowered his mouth to her neck again—kissing passionately, lips open, tongue swirling over the pulse point, sucking hard enough to draw another sharp cry from her.
Kavya clung to him—arms wrapped around his neck, Feroz groaned against her neck—low, broken—his hips pressing one last time, holding deep, letting her feel the full weight of him, the heat, the hardness, the power he had barely restrained.
Then he stilled Completely.
He lifted his head slowly, eyes searching hers in the dim light—dark, conflicted, filled with a storm of guilt, tenderness, and something deeper he could no longer name. Kavya looked back at him—eyes wide, shimmering, lips parted on shallow breaths, cheeks flushed. Neither spoke. The weight of their earlier confessions, the raw honesty of the night, hung between them like a fragile thread.
Feroz exhaled shakily, voice barely a whisper near her ear. “Tell me when to stop.”
Kavya’s throat worked. She wanted to speak—wanted to say the word that would end this, that would pull them back from the edge. But her mind felt distant, hazy, drowned in the warmth of his body, the safety of his arms, the way he had held her through the storm and the fear. Her hand remained curled in his kurta, fingers trembling but not releasing.
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she let her eyes drift closed, a small, shaky breath escaping her lips.
Feroz took that silence as permission.
He leaned in—slowly, reverently—and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering there, lips brushing her skin like a blessing. Then he moved to her cheek—another gentle kiss, warm and careful, stubble grazing softly. He kissed the other cheek, then trailed lower, lips finding the side of her neck again.
This time the kisses were slower, deeper—open-mouthed, tongue flicking out to taste the salt of her skin, sucking gently at the tender spots that made her breath hitch. He kissed along the curve of her throat, then lower, nose dipping into the shadowed valley of her cleavage. His lips brushed the upper swells of her breasts kissing the soft skin above the neckline, tongue tracing slow paths along the exposed curves.
Kavya’s back arched slightly—small, instinctive—pressing herself closer. A soft sigh escaped her, fingers flexing in his kurta.
Feroz’s hand slid to her waist, fingers brushing the side of her breast as he moved lower—kissing down the center of her chest, past her sternum, until his lips found the soft dip of her navel. He kissed there—slow, reverent—tongue circling the delicate hollow, tasting the warm skin of her stomach. Kavya’s breath caught again, a quiet whimper slipping out, her stomach fluttering under his mouth.
His fingers found the knot of her salwar—slow, hesitant. He paused, waiting.
Kavya’s hand moved—covering his, fingers trembling.
He froze.
Then he lifted his head, coming back up to hover over her. Their eyes met again—his dark, searching; hers wide, conflicted, shimmering.
He leaned down—forehead resting against hers, noses brushing—and whispered, voice rough with emotion:
“Trust me, beta. I won’t cross the line.”
Then he closed the distance—just enough—and pecked her lips for the first time.
It was soft. Brief. A gentle press of lips—warm, careful, almost innocent. Kavya’s breath caught, eyes fluttering closed. Her hand on his tightened, not pushing him away.
Feroz pulled back slightly, eyes searching hers once more.
Then—slowly—he returned to the knot of her salwar. His fingers worked carefully, untying the drawstring with trembling hands. The fabric loosened.
Kavya hesitated—her hand still on his—then, in the flow of the moment, she lifted her hips slightly off the bed.
Feroz slid the salwar down—slowly, reverently—over her hips, past her thighs, until it pooled at her ankles. He pulled it off completely, tossing it aside into the shadows.
Kavya lay beneath him now in just her black lace bra and matching panties—skin glowing in the amber light, curves soft and flushed, thighs trembling slightly.
Feroz’s gaze darkened, pupils blown wide. He leaned down again—kissing her navel once more, then lower, lips brushing the soft skin just above the waistband of her panties. His fingers found the elastic—slow, careful—pausing again.
He whispered against her lower stomach, voice hoarse:
“Tell me when to stop, beta.”
Kavya’s breath hitched. Her hand reached down—covering his—but didn’t push him away.
He slid the left side of her panties down—just a little—exposing the smooth skin of her hip and the soft curve of her upper thigh. He kissed there—slow, open-mouthed—tongue flicking out to taste the warm skin. He did the same on the right side—sliding the elastic down slightly, kissing the newly bared skin, sucking gently at the tender flesh.
Then he reached for his own pajamas—slowly untying the drawstring, sliding them down his hips. His underwear followed—black cotton stretched tight over his arousal, the thick bulge unmistakable in the dim light.
Kavya’s eyes drifted down—widening slightly as she saw him—then flicked back up to his face, cheeks burning.
Feroz settled between her legs again—this time more fully, knees parting her thighs wider, hips lowering until he rested completely in the cradle of her hips. His bare thighs pressed against the soft skin of hers, heat radiating between them, his hardness now nestled firmly against her core through only the thin lace of her panties.
He leaned down—forehead resting against hers again, noses brushing, breaths mingling.
Then he began to move—slow, deep rolls of his hips—grinding gently against her, savoring every second, every hitch in her breath, every soft moan that spilled from her lips.
The bed creaked softly beneath them—slow, rhythmic—matching the pace of his movements.
Kavya’s hands clutched his shoulders, nails digging in, hips lifting to meet his slow thrusts. Her moans were soft but constant—breathless, needy—her body trembling.
Minutes passed—four, five—his movements never stopping, never rushing.
Kavya was lost—flooded with pleasure she couldn’t name, couldn’t control. She had never felt this kind of slow, deliberate intensity—never imagined a man his age could move with such patience, such restrained power. Every roll of his hips surprised her—sometimes shallow, teasing; sometimes deep, claiming—keeping her guessing, keeping her trembling, keeping her right on the edge without letting her fall.
Her hands clutched his shoulders tighter, nails scoring lightly on his skin. Her breaths turned to soft, gasping cries—each one higher, more desperate. Her body trembled violently beneath him.
Feroz had been moving for what felt like forever—forty minutes of slow, deliberate rolls that shifted into quicker rhythms, then back to deep, lingering presses. He varied everything: sometimes shallow, teasing glides that made Kavya’s breath hitch and her hips lift instinctively; sometimes slower, deeper rolls that pressed him firmly against her core, holding there for long seconds until she trembled and gasped. Each change caught her off guard—her body never quite able to predict what came next, keeping her suspended on that razor edge of pleasure, sweating now, skin glistening in the amber light, strands of hair clinging to her forehead and neck.
She was drenched in sensation—every nerve singing,
breaths coming in soft, uneven gasps that turned to quiet moans when he found the perfect angle. She had never imagined a man his age could sustain this—could move with such patient, relentless control, could make her body respond so completely. The strength in him—the quiet, mature power—was overwhelming. She felt small beneath him, claimed, cherished, consumed.
Feroz groaned low against her ear—raw, almost pained—as the tension coiled tighter inside him. He shifted again—lifting her legs gently but firmly, guiding them up until they rested on his shoulders. The new angle changed everything—opened her wider, allowed him to sink deeper, the heat between them intensifying with every slow, deliberate motion. He leaned forward completely now—chest pressing fully against hers, coarse hair on his chest brushing her sensitive skin through the thin, damp lace of her bra, nipples dragging against him with every roll.
Kavya gasped—sharp, stunned—pleasure spiking through her like lightning. Her hands clutched his back, nails scoring lightly through his kurta. Her moans grew louder—soft but constant—her body trembling violently beneath him, thighs quivering on his shoulders, hips lifting to meet each deep roll.
Feroz’s control slipped.
He groaned louder now—low, guttural sounds muffled against her neck—his hips moving faster, harder, the rhythm losing its earlier patience. Each thrust echoed in the quiet room—soft, rhythmic sounds of skin against skin, fabric shifting, breaths catching. The bed creaked beneath them—louder now, matching the pace of his movements, the wooden frame protesting the steady, urgent rhythm.
Kavya’s moans rose to match—higher, more desperate—her arms wrapping tightly around his neck, pulling him down as pleasure crashed over her in waves. The whole room seemed to echo with their intimacy—the creak of the bed, the wet slide of skin, the ragged gasps and moans mingling in the humid air.
Feroz’s breathing turned ragged—deep, broken groans against her neck as the tension finally snapped. His hips drove forward—hard, deep, holding there for a heartbeat—then again, deeper still—thrusting with a force he could no longer contain. Kavya cried out—sharp, almost a sob—her body jerking beneath him, arms locking around his neck, hugging him tight as the intensity overwhelmed her.
Feroz shuddered violently—groaning louder, raw and primal—his teeth grazing the side of her neck in a gentle, instinctive bite as the wave finally broke over him. His body tensed completely—muscles locking, breath stopping for a second—before a deep, broken shudder ran through him. He thrust once more—deep, final—holding himself there, trembling as the release hit him with a force he hadn’t felt in eighteen years.
Kavya clung to him—arms locked around his neck, legs still on his shoulders—her own body trembling violently, a soft cry muffled against his shoulder as the intensity overwhelmed her. She hugged him tight, nails digging into his back, holding him as if afraid he might vanish.
Feroz couldn’t move for several long seconds—body locked, breath ragged, teeth still grazing the side of her neck in that gentle bite that left a faint mark. The orgasm had been overwhelming—years of pent-up longing crashing through him in one shattering wave. He shuddered again, softer this time, a low groan escaping him as he finally relaxed, weight easing off her slightly.
They stayed like that—bodies still joined, breaths mingling, hearts pounding in sync.
The room echoed with the fading sounds of their intimacy—the soft creak of the bed, the wet slide of skin, the ragged gasps slowly calming.
His release had come in a powerful, shuddering wave—deep, overwhelming, after years of denial. The warmth of it spread between them, soaking through the thin lace of her panties and dampening the soft skin of her inner thighs in slow, heavy pulses. Kavya felt it—hot, intimate, undeniable—her body still quivering from the intensity of the moment, thighs slick and trembling around his hips.
He exhaled shakily, a low, broken groan muffled against her throat. His forehead rested against her shoulder, teeth grazing the side of her neck in that gentle, instinctive bite—leaving a faint mark that would bloom tomorrow. His arms shook as he held himself above her, not wanting to crush her, but unable to pull away just yet.
He took both of her wrists gently but firmly, lifting them above her head in one slow, careful motion. His large hands pinned them to the pillow—fingers interlacing with hers, holding her arms stretched out, her body arched and open beneath him. The position made her breasts lift higher, the soaked bra clinging even more tightly, nipples straining visibly against the lace.
He leaned down—forehead coming to rest against hers, noses brushing in the smallest, most intimate touch. Their breaths mingled—hot, fast, uneven—lips so close they could feel each other’s exhales. His eyes searched hers in the amber light—dark, conflicted, filled with guilt and raw, aching need. Hers stared back—wide, vulnerable, shimmering with the same storm of emotions.
For a long moment they just stayed like that—foreheads pressed, noses brushing, breathing each other in, hearts pounding in sync.
Then he began to move.
Slow. Steady. Deliberate.
His hips rolled forward—gentle, controlled—grinding his hardness along her core through the fabric. The movement was languid, unhurried, savoring every second of contact. Each forward roll dragged him along her slick folds, teasing her clit with the perfect amount of pressure, building a slow, burning friction that made her thighs quiver and her breath come in soft, broken gasps.
Her fingers tightened in his grip, wrists flexing against his hold, but she didn’t fight it. Instead she surrendered—body yielding, opening to every gentle thrust, every slow grind.
Feroz took his time—enjoying every second of her. Every hitch in her breath. Every soft moan that spilled from her lips. Every tremble of her thighs around his hips. Every flutter of her pulse against his forehead.
He rolled again—deeper this time—pressing harder, lingering longer, letting her feel the full length of him sliding along her through the damp fabric. Kavya gasped—sharp, needy—her hips bucking up to meet him, seeking more friction, more pressure, more of him.
He groaned low against her forehead—nose still brushing hers, breath hot on her lips. His hips kept moving—slow, steady, torturously patient—each roll a promise, each grind a confession. He savored her—the heat of her, the wetness soaking through her salwar, the way her body trembled and opened for him with every slow thrust.
Kavya’s moans grew softer, deeper. She was lost in it—the slow, deliberate pleasure, the way he took his time, the way he worshipped her with every movement.
They stayed like that—foreheads pressed, noses brushing, his hips rolling slow and steady between her legs— enjoying every second, every gasp, every tremor— bodies speaking what words never could.
Feroz’s hips had been moving in that slow, deliberate rhythm—each roll gentle but deep, savoring every second of contact, every soft hitch in her breath. The wet lace of her bra still clung to her breasts, soaked from his earlier sucking, nipples hard and visible beneath the fabric. His mouth had returned to her neck—kissing passionately along both sides, lips open, tongue swirling over the sensitive pulse points, sucking gently then harder, stubble scbanging deliciously against her skin. Kavya’s hands were in his hair, fingers threaded and tugging, pulling him closer as her body arched beneath him, offering her throat, her breasts, her everything.
Then—without warning—his rhythm changed.
He increased the speed—still controlled, still measured, but faster now. His hips rolled quicker, each forward motion dragging his hardness along her slick folds through the thin layers of their clothes. The friction built rapidly—teasing her clit with every pass, pressing deeper, harder, faster.
Kavya gasped—sharp, desperate. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down, pressing her face into his shoulder as her body trembled violently. Every quick roll of his hips brought her closer—closer to him, closer to the edge—her breaths turning to soft, gasping cries against his neck. “Papa…” she breathed, voice breaking, “Papa…”
He groaned low in his throat—raw, primal—the sound muffled against her skin. His hips moved faster for a few minutes—steady, relentless—each thrust grinding against her core with perfect precision, building the pleasure higher, tighter, until her whole body was trembling, thighs quivering, hips bucking up to meet him, chasing the friction, chasing release.
Then—he slowed.
Abruptly.
His hips stilled for a heartbeat—pressed hard against her, throbbing—then rolled forward again—deeper this time. One slow, powerful thrust—grinding deep, lingering, letting her feel every inch of him. Kavya’s back bowed off the bed, a choked moan tearing from her throat. He did it again—second deep thrust—slow, deliberate, pressing firmly against her clit and holding there, letting the pressure build until she whimpered. Third thrust—deeper still—hips rolling with controlled force, grinding hard, making her gasp and clutch him tighter, nails scoring his back.
He lowered his mouth to her neck again—kissing passionately, lips open, tongue swirling over the pulse point, sucking hard enough to draw another sharp cry from her.
Kavya clung to him—arms wrapped around his neck, Feroz groaned against her neck—low, broken—his hips pressing one last time, holding deep, letting her feel the full weight of him, the heat, the hardness, the power he had barely restrained.
Then he stilled Completely.
He lifted his head slowly, eyes searching hers in the dim light—dark, conflicted, filled with a storm of guilt, tenderness, and something deeper he could no longer name. Kavya looked back at him—eyes wide, shimmering, lips parted on shallow breaths, cheeks flushed. Neither spoke. The weight of their earlier confessions, the raw honesty of the night, hung between them like a fragile thread.
Feroz exhaled shakily, voice barely a whisper near her ear. “Tell me when to stop.”
Kavya’s throat worked. She wanted to speak—wanted to say the word that would end this, that would pull them back from the edge. But her mind felt distant, hazy, drowned in the warmth of his body, the safety of his arms, the way he had held her through the storm and the fear. Her hand remained curled in his kurta, fingers trembling but not releasing.
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she let her eyes drift closed, a small, shaky breath escaping her lips.
Feroz took that silence as permission.
He leaned in—slowly, reverently—and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering there, lips brushing her skin like a blessing. Then he moved to her cheek—another gentle kiss, warm and careful, stubble grazing softly. He kissed the other cheek, then trailed lower, lips finding the side of her neck again.
This time the kisses were slower, deeper—open-mouthed, tongue flicking out to taste the salt of her skin, sucking gently at the tender spots that made her breath hitch. He kissed along the curve of her throat, then lower, nose dipping into the shadowed valley of her cleavage. His lips brushed the upper swells of her breasts kissing the soft skin above the neckline, tongue tracing slow paths along the exposed curves.
Kavya’s back arched slightly—small, instinctive—pressing herself closer. A soft sigh escaped her, fingers flexing in his kurta.
Feroz’s hand slid to her waist, fingers brushing the side of her breast as he moved lower—kissing down the center of her chest, past her sternum, until his lips found the soft dip of her navel. He kissed there—slow, reverent—tongue circling the delicate hollow, tasting the warm skin of her stomach. Kavya’s breath caught again, a quiet whimper slipping out, her stomach fluttering under his mouth.
His fingers found the knot of her salwar—slow, hesitant. He paused, waiting.
Kavya’s hand moved—covering his, fingers trembling.
He froze.
Then he lifted his head, coming back up to hover over her. Their eyes met again—his dark, searching; hers wide, conflicted, shimmering.
He leaned down—forehead resting against hers, noses brushing—and whispered, voice rough with emotion:
“Trust me, beta. I won’t cross the line.”
Then he closed the distance—just enough—and pecked her lips for the first time.
It was soft. Brief. A gentle press of lips—warm, careful, almost innocent. Kavya’s breath caught, eyes fluttering closed. Her hand on his tightened, not pushing him away.
Feroz pulled back slightly, eyes searching hers once more.
Then—slowly—he returned to the knot of her salwar. His fingers worked carefully, untying the drawstring with trembling hands. The fabric loosened.
Kavya hesitated—her hand still on his—then, in the flow of the moment, she lifted her hips slightly off the bed.
Feroz slid the salwar down—slowly, reverently—over her hips, past her thighs, until it pooled at her ankles. He pulled it off completely, tossing it aside into the shadows.
Kavya lay beneath him now in just her black lace bra and matching panties—skin glowing in the amber light, curves soft and flushed, thighs trembling slightly.
Feroz’s gaze darkened, pupils blown wide. He leaned down again—kissing her navel once more, then lower, lips brushing the soft skin just above the waistband of her panties. His fingers found the elastic—slow, careful—pausing again.
He whispered against her lower stomach, voice hoarse:
“Tell me when to stop, beta.”
Kavya’s breath hitched. Her hand reached down—covering his—but didn’t push him away.
He slid the left side of her panties down—just a little—exposing the smooth skin of her hip and the soft curve of her upper thigh. He kissed there—slow, open-mouthed—tongue flicking out to taste the warm skin. He did the same on the right side—sliding the elastic down slightly, kissing the newly bared skin, sucking gently at the tender flesh.
Then he reached for his own pajamas—slowly untying the drawstring, sliding them down his hips. His underwear followed—black cotton stretched tight over his arousal, the thick bulge unmistakable in the dim light.
Kavya’s eyes drifted down—widening slightly as she saw him—then flicked back up to his face, cheeks burning.
Feroz settled between her legs again—this time more fully, knees parting her thighs wider, hips lowering until he rested completely in the cradle of her hips. His bare thighs pressed against the soft skin of hers, heat radiating between them, his hardness now nestled firmly against her core through only the thin lace of her panties.
He leaned down—forehead resting against hers again, noses brushing, breaths mingling.
Then he began to move—slow, deep rolls of his hips—grinding gently against her, savoring every second, every hitch in her breath, every soft moan that spilled from her lips.
The bed creaked softly beneath them—slow, rhythmic—matching the pace of his movements.
Kavya’s hands clutched his shoulders, nails digging in, hips lifting to meet his slow thrusts. Her moans were soft but constant—breathless, needy—her body trembling.
Minutes passed—four, five—his movements never stopping, never rushing.
Kavya was lost—flooded with pleasure she couldn’t name, couldn’t control. She had never felt this kind of slow, deliberate intensity—never imagined a man his age could move with such patience, such restrained power. Every roll of his hips surprised her—sometimes shallow, teasing; sometimes deep, claiming—keeping her guessing, keeping her trembling, keeping her right on the edge without letting her fall.
Her hands clutched his shoulders tighter, nails scoring lightly on his skin. Her breaths turned to soft, gasping cries—each one higher, more desperate. Her body trembled violently beneath him.
Feroz had been moving for what felt like forever—forty minutes of slow, deliberate rolls that shifted into quicker rhythms, then back to deep, lingering presses. He varied everything: sometimes shallow, teasing glides that made Kavya’s breath hitch and her hips lift instinctively; sometimes slower, deeper rolls that pressed him firmly against her core, holding there for long seconds until she trembled and gasped. Each change caught her off guard—her body never quite able to predict what came next, keeping her suspended on that razor edge of pleasure, sweating now, skin glistening in the amber light, strands of hair clinging to her forehead and neck.
She was drenched in sensation—every nerve singing,
breaths coming in soft, uneven gasps that turned to quiet moans when he found the perfect angle. She had never imagined a man his age could sustain this—could move with such patient, relentless control, could make her body respond so completely. The strength in him—the quiet, mature power—was overwhelming. She felt small beneath him, claimed, cherished, consumed.
Feroz groaned low against her ear—raw, almost pained—as the tension coiled tighter inside him. He shifted again—lifting her legs gently but firmly, guiding them up until they rested on his shoulders. The new angle changed everything—opened her wider, allowed him to sink deeper, the heat between them intensifying with every slow, deliberate motion. He leaned forward completely now—chest pressing fully against hers, coarse hair on his chest brushing her sensitive skin through the thin, damp lace of her bra, nipples dragging against him with every roll.
Kavya gasped—sharp, stunned—pleasure spiking through her like lightning. Her hands clutched his back, nails scoring lightly through his kurta. Her moans grew louder—soft but constant—her body trembling violently beneath him, thighs quivering on his shoulders, hips lifting to meet each deep roll.
Feroz’s control slipped.
He groaned louder now—low, guttural sounds muffled against her neck—his hips moving faster, harder, the rhythm losing its earlier patience. Each thrust echoed in the quiet room—soft, rhythmic sounds of skin against skin, fabric shifting, breaths catching. The bed creaked beneath them—louder now, matching the pace of his movements, the wooden frame protesting the steady, urgent rhythm.
Kavya’s moans rose to match—higher, more desperate—her arms wrapping tightly around his neck, pulling him down as pleasure crashed over her in waves. The whole room seemed to echo with their intimacy—the creak of the bed, the wet slide of skin, the ragged gasps and moans mingling in the humid air.
Feroz’s breathing turned ragged—deep, broken groans against her neck as the tension finally snapped. His hips drove forward—hard, deep, holding there for a heartbeat—then again, deeper still—thrusting with a force he could no longer contain. Kavya cried out—sharp, almost a sob—her body jerking beneath him, arms locking around his neck, hugging him tight as the intensity overwhelmed her.
Feroz shuddered violently—groaning louder, raw and primal—his teeth grazing the side of her neck in a gentle, instinctive bite as the wave finally broke over him. His body tensed completely—muscles locking, breath stopping for a second—before a deep, broken shudder ran through him. He thrust once more—deep, final—holding himself there, trembling as the release hit him with a force he hadn’t felt in eighteen years.
Kavya clung to him—arms locked around his neck, legs still on his shoulders—her own body trembling violently, a soft cry muffled against his shoulder as the intensity overwhelmed her. She hugged him tight, nails digging into his back, holding him as if afraid he might vanish.
Feroz couldn’t move for several long seconds—body locked, breath ragged, teeth still grazing the side of her neck in that gentle bite that left a faint mark. The orgasm had been overwhelming—years of pent-up longing crashing through him in one shattering wave. He shuddered again, softer this time, a low groan escaping him as he finally relaxed, weight easing off her slightly.
They stayed like that—bodies still joined, breaths mingling, hearts pounding in sync.
The room echoed with the fading sounds of their intimacy—the soft creak of the bed, the wet slide of skin, the ragged gasps slowly calming.
His release had come in a powerful, shuddering wave—deep, overwhelming, after years of denial. The warmth of it spread between them, soaking through the thin lace of her panties and dampening the soft skin of her inner thighs in slow, heavy pulses. Kavya felt it—hot, intimate, undeniable—her body still quivering from the intensity of the moment, thighs slick and trembling around his hips.
He exhaled shakily, a low, broken groan muffled against her throat. His forehead rested against her shoulder, teeth grazing the side of her neck in that gentle, instinctive bite—leaving a faint mark that would bloom tomorrow. His arms shook as he held himself above her, not wanting to crush her, but unable to pull away just yet.
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