Kerala Arranged Marriage

[vickyxon]

I didn’t waste a breath. I moved her against the wall beside the bookshelf, the hard wood of the door frame a cold contrast to the feverish heat radiating from her skin. My hands moved with a frantic precision, undoing the buttons of her blouse. When the fabric fell away, revealing her perky breasts still flushed from the morning, I felt a familiar, violent throb in my groin.

I stripped off my own clothes in a blur of motion, my cock springing free, rock-hard and pulsing with a life of its own. I didn't lead her to the bed; the urgency was too great. I grabbed her thighs and hoisted her up. Sowmya let out a sharp, stifled gasp as she wrapped her legs around my waist, her heels digging into the small of my back.

I pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, using the other to guide myself to her entrance. She was already overflowing. The slick, hot friction of her desire was everywhere. As I drove upward, burying my full length into her in one deep, territorial thrust, her head hit the wall with a soft thud and her eyes instantly rolled back.

"Mmmph—!" she muffled her own scream against my shoulder, her teeth grazing my skin as she fought to keep the sound from reaching the kitchen.

The position allowed for a devastatingly deep penetration. With every upward piston of my hips, I felt myself hitting the very back of her. I was relentless, a hard, rhythmic drumming against her core.

She wasn't just receiving; she reached down, her hands gripping my hips with surprising strength, her fingers digging into my flesh as she pulled me deeper into her. She began to move with me, lifting and dropping her weight onto my cock, her "fine ass" grinding against the wall with every stroke.

The sounds were a chaotic, hushed symphony: the wet, heavy squelch of our union—the lubrication was so intense that I could hear the liquid sloshing with every thrust, the frantic, rhythmic slap of my stomach hitting her thighs, and her jagged, desperate whispers of "Vickychetta... Vickychetta... more..."

I looked down and saw it—the evidence of her arousal. Her honeyed essence was flowing in a steady stream, dripping from where we were joined, trickling down her inner thighs and splattering onto the floorboards in a rhythmic, tell-tale patter.

My vision began to blur. The scent of her—musky, sweet, and raw—was all I could process. I felt the pressure building in my base, a coiled spring ready to snap. I increased the pace, my thrusts becoming shorter, harder, and faster, driving into her with a savage intensity.

"Sowmya... I'm... I'm going to..." I hissed, my teeth bared.

I felt her internal walls suddenly tighten in a series of violent, rhythmic spasms. She was there. Her head tossed back, her eyes rolling into her head, her mouth hanging open in a silent, soul-shattering moan.

I followed her immediately. I let out a low, guttural grunt as I erupted, sending jet after jet of hot, thick cum deep into her womb. The force of my release triggered a secondary, even more powerful wave for her. She went completely limp in my arms, her grip on my hips loosening as her mind went blank, lost in the white-hot void of a total sensory blackout.

We stayed like that for several minutes, me holding her weight against the wall, both of us gasping for air in the stifling heat of the small room. The only sound was the ticking of the wall clock and the steady drip-drip of our combined fluids onto the floor.

She finally blinked, her eyes coming back to focus on mine, glazed and overflowing with a dark, primal love. She looked down at the mess on the floor and then back at me, a small, triumphant smile tugging at her swollen lips.

"Lunch... might be a problem," she whispered breathlessly.

I kissed her forehead, my heart still hammering against my ribs. "Let them wait. I’m not letting go of you just yet."