Adultery Little sis Anjali and her friends

[prasannas2001]

 
First Catch ,  The Living Room
 
He moved toward her voice, his hands reaching out into the blackness.
 
They found her, her waist, her hips, and he pulled her close, his fingers sinking into the silk that clung to her body.
 
"I caught you," he breathed.
 
His heart was pounding, his chest rising and falling against hers.
 
"Yes, you did." Her voice was soft, pleased.
 
"Now you have a few minutes."
 
"What do I do with them?"
 
"Whatever you want." Her lips found his ear, her breath warm against his skin.
 
"I'm yours.
 
For a few minutes, I'm completely yours."
 
His lips found hers in the darkness.
 
She was soft and warm, her mouth opening to him like a flower.
 
She tasted sweet, honey and desire and something deeper, something that made his head spin.
 
He kissed her like a drowning man, drinking her in, his hands cupping her face to hold her steady.
 
"You taste so good," he murmured against her lips.
 
"So do you."
 
His hands moved up her waist, finding her breasts through the silk.
 
They were bare beneath the fabric, no barrier, no protection, just her.
 
Warm.
 
Responsive.
 
He felt her nipples harden against his palms, felt the sharp intake of her breath.
 
She gasped against his lips, and the sound went straight through him, settling low in his belly.
 
"You're so beautiful," he breathed.
 
"I can feel every curve.
 
Every soft place."
 
And he could.
 
Through the whisper-thin silk, her body was a landscape he was learning by touch alone.
 
The weight of her breasts in his palms, full and yielding.
 
The soft swell of her belly beneath his fingers.
 
The flare of her hips, round and warm, made to be held.
 
"Then touch me.
 
Feel all of me."
 
His hands roamed her body through the silk, her breasts, her waist, her hips, her thighs.
 
Every inch of her was warm, alive, trembling beneath his touch.
 
The silk moved with his hands, sliding over her skin like water, and he could feel everything, the texture of her flesh, the heat of her blood, the rapid flutter of her pulse at her throat.
 
She moaned softly, encouraging him, and the sound was almost too much.
 
He wanted to tear the silk away.
 
He wanted to see her.
 
But the darkness held him, forced him to rely on touch alone, and somehow that made it more intense.
 
"I want more," he said, his voice rough.
 
"I want to feel your skin."
 
"Then catch me again."
 
She slipped away, and he felt the absence of her body like a wound.