Adultery The Making of a Slut from a Wife - Shazia

[HotLove339]

He lifted her legs. Her high heels, still strapped to her feet, rose into the air. He pressed his lips to her right knee—a soft, warm kiss that made her shiver. Then her left knee. Then his mouth began a slow, torturous journey down her inner thigh, his lips trailing a wet, heated path along the sensitive skin. His stubble scbangd against her flesh—a rough, electric friction that made her gasp and squirm. His tongue darted out to taste her, a quick, hot flick that left a cooling trail of saliva in its wake.





Shazia's head fell back against the mattress. Her fingers gripped the white duvet, twisting the fabric in her fists. She felt his mouth moving higher—closer to the soaked, aching center of her—and her hips lifted involuntarily, seeking his touch, seeking anything.
 
He reached the waistband of her panties. The red lace was soaked through, clinging to her mound, the dark shadow of her sex visible through the sheer fabric. He hooked his thick fingers into the elastic and pulled.
 
The panties slid down—over her thighs, past her knees, coming to rest in a tight, wet band just below her calves. He felt the heat of her vagina on his face. He didn't bother to remove the panties entirely. They remained there, tangled around her lower legs, a binding that kept her ankles close together even as her thighs spread wide. The restriction was subtle but undeniable—she could move, but she could not close her legs. She could not hide. She was open to him. Exposed. Helpless. Looking at the wet woman’s hole that he was going to fuck, he settled his weight, kneeling directly between her spread thighs, leaving her bare legs securely hooked behind his waist and trapped by her own underwear.
 
Leaning over her body, he caught the pallu of her saree and threw it off to the side, exposing her frontal body and getting the fabric entirely out of his way. Shazia's small blouse did very little to cover her breasts. His lust-filled eyes locked onto her deep cleavage in the dark. His right hand clamped down firmly on her breast. His thick fingers dug possessively through the blouse into the soft, yielding flesh. He violently kneaded her boob, his thumb aggressively finding and pinching her stiff, rock-hard nipple. He unpinned her blouse to let her heaving breasts free. With both his palms now pushed into her bra, he pulled her massive flesh globes out, groping and kneading them.
 
Rohan looked at Shazia. His eyes swept down her body—the open blouse, the bra still in place but pushed down, the freshy, pale globes of her breasts spilling free, the bunched saree around her waist, the spread thighs, the dark, glistening, swollen lips of her pussy. Shazia was not fully naked. The clothes she still wore—the blouse hanging open, the bra cups pushed beneath her breasts, the saree bunched at her waist, the panties binding her calves—made her look more obscene than complete nudity ever could. She looked like a woman who had been interrupted in the act of undressing. She looked like a woman who had been too desperate, too hungry, too consumed by lust to bother removing her clothes.
 
"Beautiful," he breathed. "You are fucking beautiful."
 
He leaned forward, his body covering hers, his face hovering inches above her own. His right hand moved to her chest. He grabbed her breast—his palm closing over the massive, soft mound, his fingers sinking into the yielding flesh, his thumb finding her stiff, rock-hard nipple and pinching down.
 
Shazia cried out—a sharp, breathless sound of pain and pleasure intertwined. Her back arched off the mattress, pressing her breast deeper into his grip. He kneaded her flesh with rough, possessive circles, his thumb flicking and rolling her nipple, his fingers squeezing the heavy globe until it ached. Then, without releasing her, he lowered his mouth to her other breast. He sucked her nipple into his mouth. The sensation of the wet tongue was intensely arousing. —the wet, insistent heat of his tongue, the sharp graze of his teeth, the insistent, rhythmic pull of his suction. Shazia moaned loudly, her fingers tightening in his hair, pressing him on her chest. Her hips were grinding upward against the solid plane of his abdomen. Her back arched further.
 
"Ahh... Rohan... haan..." (Ahh... Rohan... yes...)
 
He released her nipple with a wet pop and pulled back. He pushed the bra cups further down, completely freeing her breasts. They settled into their natural shape—massive, heavy, and impossibly soft, the pale skin glowing in the dim light. The faint blue veins beneath the surface were visible, tracing delicate paths across the creamy mounds. Her nipples were dark and thick and painfully erect, pointing at the ceiling like silent, desperate pleas.