Misc. Erotica MILF DOMINATES & COCKY'S LUST

[vikramrox69]

“You’re going to sit there like a good boy the whole drive,” she whispered. “No touching yourself. No touching me. No speaking unless I ask you a direct question. If you break any of those rules…” Her hand slid down, palm flattening over the growing ridge behind his zipper. She squeezed—hard. “I’ll make sure the next three hours are the longest, most frustrating of your life. And you still won’t come.”
Mohan’s hips jerked involuntarily into her grip. A choked sound escaped his throat.
“Yes… ma’am,” he rasped.
The honorific slipped out raw, unpracticed. It made Shamita’s pupils flare.
She released him abruptly, slammed the door, and circled to the driver’s side. The engine growled to life. As she peeled out into traffic, one hand stayed on the gearshift while the other reached across the console and wrapped around his throat—not choking, just holding. Claiming. Her thumb pressed lightly against his racing pulse.
“Tell me your safe word,” she said without looking at him.
“Red,” he answered immediately, voice strained.
“Good.” Her fingers tightened fractionally. “Because I’m about to find out exactly how much pain a newly married bodybuilder can take before he begs.”

The city lights streaked past the windows. Mohan’s knuckles whitened behind his head. His cock throbbed visibly against the denim, trapped, aching. Every time they hit a red light, Shamita would slide her hand higher up his thigh, nails raking over the fabric, stopping just short of where he needed her most—then pull away.
By the time they reached her high-rise apartment, he was shaking.
She killed the engine in the underground parking, unbuckled him, and yanked him out by the front of his shirt. The elevator ride was silent except for his ragged breathing and the soft metallic hum. The moment the doors closed, Shamita shoved him back against the mirrored wall, pinning him with her forearm across his throat.
“Look at yourself,” she hissed.
His eyes flicked to their reflection: his massive frame dwarfing hers, yet utterly helpless—arms still locked behind his head because she hadn’t told him to move them, chest heaving, pupils blown black, lips parted. Her smaller body pressed flush against him, one leg hooked around his hip, grinding once, deliberately, against the iron length of him.
“You’re already leaking for me, aren’t you?” she murmured, feeling the damp spot spreading under her palm. “Married less than a year and already this desperate to be owned.”
Mohan’s head thudded back against the glass. “Fuck… yes.”