Adultery Noida wife's descent into Quicksand ( New Novel)

[SilverArrow]

Chapter : The most brutal Act

Ranga rose from between her thighs. His mouth and chin shone with her. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand; the taste of her stayed thick on his tongue. He reached for the dusty condom packet, tore the foil open with his teeth — a sharp, dry sound in the humid air — and rolled the thin rubber down his cock with one rough stroke. The condom stretched tight over the dark, heavy shaft. Heat still radiated off his skin. A bead of sweat ran down the centre of his chest and disappeared into the coarse hair at his base.

Monica lay on her elbows on the rough wooden desk, breathing hard. The wood was warm, gritty with cement dust and old pencil shavings. Every small shift scbangd her shoulder blades. Her cunt was open and wet from his tongue; a thin, cool line of her own moisture had already run down the cleft of her ass and onto the stained surface beneath her.

“On your back properly,” Ranga said. “Legs wider.”

“You’re not—”

His hands closed hard around her thighs. The callouses on his palms dragged against soft skin as he yanked her fully to the edge of the table. Her ass hung half off the wood. Before she could finish the sentence he lined up and pushed into her in one continuous, heavy stroke.

The air left her lungs in a broken, shocked sound.

“Fuck—!” Monica yelled …

He was thick. The head of her penis forced her open with a slow, burning stretch; the heavy shaft followed, sinking deeper in a single relentless slide until his hips met hers and the coarse hair at his base ground against her. She felt every inch — the heat of him through the thin condom, the pulse along the underside, the way her body had to yield.

The smell of sex rose immediately, mixing with the metallic tang of the  walls and the faint tobacco-and-sweat ghost still clinging to her fingers from the labourer’s bag.

He gave her no time to adjust. He drew back until only the head stretched her entrance, then drove in again, harder. The impact was wet and loud. The wooden desk creaked. The red-stamped file slid another inch toward the edge.

“Ranga—slow down—”

He fucked her with desperate violence. Each thrust was full and punishing; his hips snapped forward and the thick cock punched deep enough that she felt it in her stomach. Her breasts surged against the pulled-down bra with every impact, heavy and soft, nipples tight in the hot air. Sweat had already gathered in the valley between them. Monica’s head tipped back. A raw, open moan tore out of her before she could lock it down — the sound bounced off the metal walls and came back to her, humiliatingly clear.

“You—bastard—ah—”

“Take it Monica.” His voice was low and rough, close to her ear. He gripped her hips hard enough that she would bruise; the pressure of his fingers was another point of heat.  “ You corporate bitch!!  Take all of it.” Ranga screamed

The wet sound of her cunt taking him filled the cabin — filthy, rhythmic, unmistakable. Every time he buried himself to the root a fresh rush of her own wetness coated the condom and spilled down onto the desk in a warm, sticky trail. The air grew thicker with the smell of sex and dust and sweat. Monica tried to keep the anger in her voice, but the words kept breaking apart under the force of his body.

“I hate—fuck—I hate you—”

“Say it louder.”

He leaned forward. One hand planted beside her head on the rough wood; splinters and grit pressed into his palm. The other yanked the bra fully down so both breasts spilled free, soft and heavy, the skin damp with sweat. He closed his mouth over one nipple and sucked hard — heat, wet pressure, the scbang of teeth — while his hips kept driving into her in short, savage thrusts. Monica’s back arched clean off the table. A louder, helpless moan spilled out of her, raw and high. The desk legs scbangd faintly against the floor.

“Ranga—slowly ..slowly —ah, fuck—”

“Your cunt doesn’t think it’s too deep.” He lifted his head; his lips were wet, his voice strained with effort and satisfaction. A drop of sweat fell from his jaw onto her stomach. “It’s soaking the condom. Your cunt is dripping down onto the desk. Listen to it.”

She could hear it — the heavy, liquid slap of his cock pounding into her, the small wet sounds when he pulled back, the creak of stressed wood. Monica’s fingers scrabbled at the desk and found only grit and heat. Her thighs trembled violently around his waist. Each violent thrust forced another broken noise from her throat; she could no longer tell where the anger ended and the pleasure began. The taste of dust and her own earlier arousal still lingered at the back of her tongue.

“Ranga ..Aah ..Aah.. Please slow down ..You…asshole ” Monica was moaning very loudly by now!

He pulled almost all the way out — the head stretching her entrance, the sudden emptiness almost as intense as the fullness — then buried himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke. Monica cried out, a raw, open sound that echoed off the walls and seemed to hang in the hot air.

“Fuck, Monica your cunt is so soft and deep ..”

“ Ranga ..go slow ..Aah ..Ahh ..Ahh..” she choked, eyes wet, voice completely ruined. “Go slow ..I ..I am telling you .bastard”

Ranga’s mouth curved. He hooked his arms under her knees, shoved her legs higher and wider until she was completely open and folded, and fucked her with short, vicious strokes that kept his cock grinding against the most sensitive places inside her. The new angle made every thrust feel deeper, more inescapable. Monica’s moans turned continuous — filthy, unwilling, punched out of her with every impact. Her tits bounced hard. Sweat slicked the valley between them and pooled in the hollow of her throat. The smell of sex was everywhere now, mixed with cement dust, hot metal, and the faint rubber scent of the condom.

“Look at you Monica” he muttered, watching her body take him. “how your cunt is taking me full. And still you are complaining!!”

He drove in harder. The protest dissolved into a long, broken moan that trailed off into a whimper. The desk shuddered.

Soon Ranga became even more violent.

What had been hard became merciless. Ranga shifted his grip, hooked her legs higher over his arms, and began pounding into her with short, brutal strokes that had no mercy in them at all. Each thrust drove her harder against the rough wooden desk. The grit and splinters bit into the soft flesh of her ass; every impact scbangd her skin raw against the stained surface. Her fair soft big ass was red like blood from the dirty impact.

Monica cried out — loud, open, no longer controlled.

“Ah—fuck—Ranga— Uhha.  Uhhaaaaaa Ahhh Ahhhhh !”

He didn’t slow. He fucked her through the sound, hips slamming forward, the wet slap of skin on skin cracking through the small cabin again and again. The desk legs scbangd and shuddered. Her ass burned where the wood punished it, but the thick cock driving into her kept forcing pleasure up through the pain until the two sensations tangled and she could no longer separate them.

Her moans grew louder.

At first they still carried anger. Then the anger frayed. What came out of her mouth became rawer, bolder, shameless — long, high, broken sounds that filled the tin cabin and spilled out through the gaps in the walls.

By then she was moaning just so loudly that anyone on the nearby service road would have heard her. A truck passing on the highway would have surely caught the rise and fall of a woman’s voice in unmistakable, rhythmic ecstasy. Monica was lucky the plot of land was deserted and very few people actually walked over that side, or it would have been a public scandal.

“Harder—” she heard herself say, the word torn out of her between thrusts and desperate hard moans. “Don’t you dare—stop— Ranga ..Ahhha.. ”

Ranga’s breath was harsh against her ear. Sweat dropped from his chest onto her stomach and between her breasts. He pounded her without mercy, using the full weight of his body, driving so deep she felt it in her spine. The wooden edge dug into her ass with every stroke; the sting made her clench around him, which only made him groan and fuck her harder.

“Louder,” he growled. “Let the whole site hear how much you are enjoying this...”

Monica’s head tipped back. Another scream of pure, overwhelmed pleasure ripped out of her throat — high enough and long enough that it could have carried across the open land to the highway. Her fingers clawed at his shoulders. Her ass throbbed from the constant scbanging and pounding against the desk, the skin tender and raw, but she no longer asked him to stop. The pain had become part of the intensity; every time the wood bit into her it sharpened the feeling of his cock stretching her open.

“It’s—hurting—” she gasped, even as her legs locked tighter around him. “My ass—the table—uhhh uhhh uhhh ..”

“I don’t care.”

He drove into her even harder, as if to prove the point. The desk groaned. Monica’s moan broke into a near-scream. Outside, far off, a heavy truck’s horn sounded on the highway — a long, low note that mixed for a second with the wet, violent rhythm inside the cabin and her own helpless, carrying voice.