Adultery Dad's Enemy Made My Mom Heartless (COMPLETED!!)

[thoristhanos]

After several minutes he flipped her again, settling between her spread thighs and sliding back inside her with one smooth, tender thrust. For twenty long minutes they moved together in that same slow, loving rhythm—deep, measured strokes that made her sigh and wrap her legs around his waist, her heels resting lightly on the small of his back. But frustration began to show on her face. Her brows drew together; her hips started to push upward with more urgency. She wanted more. She wanted the hard, punishing pace that would tear her open and leave her wrecked. Without warning she pushed him onto his back, straddled him, reached down between their bodies, and impaled herself on his cock in one swift, desperate motion. A sharp, broken cry escaped her as she sank to the hilt. Then she began riding him—hard, fast, almost frantic—her hips slamming down to meet every upward thrust of his. The wet, slapping sounds grew louder, more obscene. Sweat flew from her body with every bounce; her heavy breasts swung and leaked fresh milk that splattered across his chest and stomach in white droplets. The room filled with the sounds of their coupling—the rhythmic creak of the mattress, the wet squelch of her soaked cunt taking him again and again, her breathless moans rising in pitch.








I glanced at the clock again: 1:45 a.m. The number hit me like a physical blow. Twenty years ago, as i remembered watching wedding cassette, between 1:30 and 2:00 in the morning, my mother had walked seven circles around the sacred fire with my father. She had taken seven vows, let him part her hair and fill it with red sindoor, and accepted the mangalsutra he tied around her neck while the priest chanted mantras.





At this exact minute, two decades later, she was naked on top of the man my father hated most, riding him with everything she had—sweat pouring from every pore, milk leaking from her nipples and running in thin white trails down her belly, saliva and drool shining on her chin from their endless kissing, her cunt so wet it left glistening streaks down Akash’s cock with every rise and fall. Every fluid a woman’s body could produce was being offered to another man at the precise moment she had once pledged herself to my father. The sheer, calculated cruelty of the timing made my stomach twist.


sweaty


milk


Whatever bad things my father had done—the transfer to Dubai, the occasional lack of concern for family matters, the tired rants after long days—none of it was bad enough to deserve this. He did not deserve to have his wife of twenty years riding his enemy completely naked on the exact anniversary night they had once shared their sacred vows. He did not deserve to have the woman he had given two children, a home, trips, and shopping with, now leaking from every orifice for another man: drool from her mouth from endless kissing, milk from her nipples, the wetness of love from her vagina, and sweat from every pore of her body. She was excreting every fluid a female body could produce, all of it offered to the man my father least wanted her to sleep with.

Around 1:55 she fell forward, her soft belly pressed flat against his, her heavy breasts flattened against his chest, her mouth sealed over his in a desperate, open-mouthed kiss. She kept thrusting in that position—short, frantic rolls of her hips—while they kissed like drowning people sharing one last breath. When they came, they came together, screaming into each other’s mouths, bodies locked so tightly it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. She held him inside her with every limb, arms wrapped around his neck, ankles crossed behind his ass, refusing to let him pull out even for a second. He emptied himself deep in her womb again, pulse after pulse, while she milked every drop with rhythmic contractions of her cunt. Thick white cum leaked out around his shaft with each throb, running down over his balls and soaking the sheets beneath them.