Adultery Priya Didi

[shailu4ever]

 
"Ah!" Priya gasped, a combination of ecstasy and desperate need, body arching, fingers tightening painfully in his hair.
 
"Ravi, please… I can’t… I need…"
 
But he continued, methodical, obsessed with the worship of her body, alternating between gentle and firm, soft licks and deep suction, learning what made her gasp loudest, what made her hips move restlessly, what made her fingers clench in desperate pleasure.
 
He released her nipple with a soft pop, moving his mouth lower, pressing kisses along the underside of her breast, that sensitive, secret zone he had discovered earlier.
 
His tongue traced the delicate crease where breast met ribcage, and Priya nearly sobbed with the intensity of sensation, body trembling uncontrollably.
 
Then he returned to the valley between her breasts, kissing, licking, worshiping, before moving to lavish attention on the inner curves, the soft flesh pressed together to form her cleavage.
 
He seemed determined to taste every inch, explore every curve and valley, worship every ounce of her soft, fair skin.
 
His hands supported her from beneath, occasionally lifting and pressing them like offerings, moving in perfect harmony with his mouth, pressing them together so he could shift from one to the other without breaking contact, without letting a second of sensation pass unclaimed.
 
Priya’s hips moved restlessly now, searching, seeking friction, seeking relief for the ache building between her legs.
 
The petticoat still bound her waist, the last barrier between them, but it felt too much, too confining, too restrictive.
 
"Ravi," she moaned, voice desperate, trembling with need.
 
"Please… please, I need more… I need…"
 
He pulled back from her breasts slowly, lips releasing her nipple with a soft, satisfying pop.
 
Both peaks were now wet, glistening, hardened into tight, sensitive buds.
 
Her skin flushed slightly under his attention, evidence of his worship, soft, damp impressions of his lips and tongue, tender marks where he had sucked a little harder, veins raised from the rush of blood and arousal.
 
His eyes met hers, dark with desire, lips wet and slightly swollen from the relentless worship of her body.
 
He could see the hunger mirrored in her gaze, the desperate need, the aching anticipation, and he felt an intoxicating sense of power and reverence combined.
 
In that quiet bedroom, bathed in golden morning light, they existed in a universe that belonged entirely to their bodies, their breaths, their intimate rhythm, a moment suspended in time, alive with sensation, worship, and surrender.
 

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