Adultery Punjabi Milf with her Bihari Servant.

[Alpha3]

Guys this will be a fantasy story between my mother and our imaginary servant.

Kamal 48 years old Punjabi woman is married to Amrik 49 years old, dick size 6 inches. Kamal is 5’3” tall, weighs 60 kg, fair colour and body figure 34-30-38. Wears Punjabi salwar suit and a pair of silver anklets. Very feminine, classy yet modest woman. Mother of two adult children. A loving mother and a good housewife. Her husband owns a big farm of land in the village they live. Kamal has light brown areolas and usually keeps her pussy shaved or trimmed. She waxes or shaves her legs and arms. She keeps her toes polished pretty. They are a rich and modern family. Their farm helper, Ramesh 55 years old, lower class Bihari and dick size 8 inches is attracted towards her and wants to fuck her.

 

[Alpha3]

Under the vast, cerulean canopy of the Punjabi sky, the lush fields of golden wheat swayed in a silent dance to the rhythm of the zephyrs. Amidst the rustic symphony, the farmstead stood proud, a bastion of the modern world amidst the timeless beauty of nature. Here, within its walls, lived a woman whose grace was as unyielding as the soil beneath the farm—Kamal, the picture of Punjabi elegance, her every gesture a sonnet of femininity. Her eyes, the color of freshly harvested mustard seeds, held a spark of wisdom beyond her years, and her skin, kissed by the sun, bore the richness of the earth. Her voluptuous figure, wrapped in the vibrant hues of her salwar suit, whispered secrets of passion and desire that remained unspoken, buried beneath her modest demeanor.





Ramesh, the farm's devoted servant, had toiled alongside Amrik for more seasons than he cared to count. His sinewy arms, a testament to his labors, bore tattoos that spoke of his Bihari heritage. His eyes, dark and intense, often lingered on the tantalizing sway of Kamal's hips as she moved about the house, a silent confession of the yearning that had grown within him. Each day, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with the fiery hues of twilight, he found his thoughts consumed by the allure of his employer's wife. Her laughter was the sweetest melody, and the jingle of her silver anklets the most seductive of rhythms, resonating deep within his core.





One sultry afternoon, as the heat of the day lay heavy upon the land, Ramesh found himself in the kitchen, where the tantalizing aroma of spices mingled with the scent of freshly baked chapattis. The room was a sanctuary of warmth and comfort, where Kamal's presence was a beacon that drew him like a moth to a flame. She was kneading dough, her rounded arms flexing with each movement, the beads of sweat adorning her brow like dew on a ripe berry. The way the fabric of her salwar clung to her ample thighs and the curve of her ass was an exquisite torment. His gaze traveled up her body, lingering on the swell of her breasts, the tightness of her waist, and the gentle rise of her midriff, exposed by the lifted fabric of her kameez. The sight of her bare feet, toes adorned with vibrant nail polish, sent a jolt of desire through him, a stark contrast to the hardened skin of his own feet.





Kamal felt his gaze upon her, a warmth that was as unmistakable as the sun's caress. She had noticed the way he looked at her before, the hunger in his eyes that seemed to grow with each passing day. The tension between them was palpable, a silent crescendo that built with every encounter. Yet she remained stoic, her eyes never meeting his, focusing instead on the task at hand. Inside, however, she could not deny the flutter of anticipation that danced in her belly, the way her heart quickened, nor the slickness that had begun to gather between her legs.





Ramesh approached her, his steps deliberate yet hesitant, like a man approaching a sacred shrine. He reached for the rolling pin, his hand brushing against hers, sending a jolt of electricity through her body. The sudden contact was innocent yet laden with meaning. The air grew thick with unspoken need, the only sound the crackling of the stove and the rhythmic patter of her heart. He paused, their hands entwined around the wooden handle, and for a moment, time stood still.





Kamal's breath hitched, her eyes flicking up to meet his for the briefest of moments. In that fraction of a second, she saw the depth of his desire, a desire that mirrored the unspoken longing within her. Her hand trembled slightly, and she pulled away, pretending to busy herself with the chapattis sizzling on the griddle. Yet, she could feel the imprint of his touch on her skin, as if it had branded her with a secret yearning that she could no longer ignore.





The kitchen was a whirlwind of sensation—the heat from the stove, the scent of the spices, the rustle of the fabric against her skin, and the pounding of her heart.
Ramesh's proximity was intoxicating, his rough, calloused hands a stark reminder of the life of hard work he led, so different from the softness of her own. The contrast only served to heighten her awareness of the man who had been a part of her daily life for so long yet remained an enigma to her.





With a sudden boldness born of the simmering tension, Ramesh reached out and traced a bead of sweat that had trickled down her neck. His thumb lingered on the pulse point, feeling the rapid throb of her life force. The touch was feather-light, but it sent a shiver down her spine, and she gasped, the sound lost in the crackling symphony of the kitchen. His eyes searched hers, looking for permission, for a sign that she was as lost in this moment as he was.





Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she nodded, her pulse racing as she leaned into his touch. His hand slid around the back of her neck, pulling her closer, and his lips found hers in a kiss that was both fierce and gentle, demanding yet tender. It was a kiss that spoke of the passion that had been building within him for years, and she responded with a fervor that surprised even herself. Her body melted against his, the heat of their union as potent as the warmth of the kitchen.





The chapattis forgotten, they stumbled backward, the kitchen table becoming the stage for their clandestine passion play. Ramesh's hands roamed her body, exploring the softness of her breasts, the fullness of her waist, the curve of her hips. She moaned into his mouth, the sensation of his rough palms against her skin sending waves of pleasure crashing through her. His touch was a revelation, a masterful dance that seemed to speak of an intimate knowledge of her body that no one had ever possessed before.





As they kissed, Ramesh reached for the hem of her kameez, his calloused fingers tracing the smooth skin of her midriff. He slid the fabric upwards, exposing her navel, and she gasped as his thumb dipped into the hollow, sending a jolt of sensation to her core. His hands continued their journey upwards, cupping her breasts, teasing her nipples to hard peaks that strained against the fabric of her blouse. She arched into his touch, her own hands finding the coarse material of his shirt, pulling it away from his chest, feeling the heat and strength of his body beneath.





Their breathing grew ragged, the air thick with need as they broke away from the kiss. He looked down at her, his eyes dark with desire, and she knew that she was crossing a line that could never be uncrossed. Yet, she found she could not care, not when the siren's song of passion called so strongly. She reached for the button of his pants, her heart hammering in her chest, her hand shaking with a mix of fear and excitement. The fabric parted, revealing his erection, thick and proud, a stark testament to his desire.





He groaned, his hand moving to cover hers, guiding her to stroke him, feeling the velvety heat of his skin, the hardness of his arousal. She marveled at the size of him, so much more than her husband, and she felt a thrill of power knowing that she could give him this pleasure, that she could make this strong man tremble with need.





Her hand stroked him slowly, her thumb tracing the bead of pre-cum that glistened at the tip. He watched her, his eyes half-lidded with lust, as she leaned down and took him in her mouth, her lips wrapping around his shaft, her tongue flicking against his sensitive skin. His moan was low and guttural, a sound that resonated within her, making her wetter, her own need growing with each stroke of her mouth.





Their movements grew more urgent, their breaths more ragged, as they danced the ancient rhythm of lust. The kitchen, once a bastion of domesticity, had become a sanctuary of passion, where the only rules were those dictated by their bodies, and the only law was the one of desire. It was in this throes that Amrik's voice pierced the air, a sudden, unexpected intrusion into their stolen moment.





"Ramesh! Ramesh! I need your help in the barn!"

 

[Alpha3]

The urgent call from Amrik brought them both to a sharp reality, like a bucket of cold water thrown over their fiery passion. Ramesh hastily pulled his pants back up, the fabric sticking to his still-damp erection. He knew he had to get out of there before he was caught. He grabbed his shirt from the chair, throwing it over his head as he bolted out of the kitchen, leaving a trail of desire in his wake.





Kamal was left standing there, her chest heaving, her heart racing like a wild stallion in her chest. Her eyes fell to the floor, her cheeks flushed with a mix of guilt and arousal. She straightened her kameez, her trembling hands smoothing the fabric over her breasts, feeling the ache of unfulfilled need. She knew she should feel ashamed, but the heat that Ramesh had ignited in her was too powerful to be extinguished so easily.





Her eyes followed him as he rushed out of the kitchen, his retreating form a blur of movement that only served to inflame her desires further. The small, lingering kiss he had placed upon her forehead before leaving was like a brand, a silent promise of the passion that awaited her tonight. Her mind raced with thoughts of what the night would bring, the illicit thrill of their union sending a delicious shiver down her spine.





The rest of the day seemed to crawl by at a glacial pace, each second an eternity as she tended to her duties with a feverish anticipation. She could not help but feel a sense of restlessness, her skin prickling with the memory of his touch, her body aching for more. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the farm in a warm, golden glow, she retreated to her chamber, eager to begin her preparations.





Kamal drew a bath, the scent of jasmine and sandalwood filling the air as the water steamed invitingly. She stepped in, the warmth enveloping her like a lover's embrace. As she sank into the tub, her thoughts drifted to Ramesh and the promise of the night to come. With meticulous care, she began to cleanse her body, her hands gliding over her soft skin, each stroke a silent declaration of her readiness.





The scent of the oils she used was intoxicating, a blend of exotic spices that spoke of passion and desire. She took her time, her fingers tracing the curves of her body, lingering in the sensitive hollows and valleys that she knew would soon be explored by Ramesh's calloused hands. The water grew murky as the sweat and dust of the day were washed away, revealing the smooth, hairless perfection of her skin. She had shaved every inch, leaving not a single hair to mar the silky expanse that awaited his touch.





Her breasts were firm and ripe, the light brown areolas puckered and eager, her nipples standing at attention like tiny, hard buds of passion. She took one in her mouth, mimicking the way she knew he would suckle her, feeling the ache in her loins as she imagined his mouth upon her. Her hand drifted down her torso, tracing the line of her navel before dipping into the warm waters to find the slickness that had begun to pool between her thighs.





Her fingertips danced over her clit, the sensation making her gasp, sending ripples across the water's surface. Her other hand reached for a bar of sandalwood soap, the scent of which she knew would soon mingle with the earthy musk of his skin. As she lathered herself, she imagined his rough hands replacing hers, his strong, calloused fingers delving into the softness of her folds, exploring the depths of her womanhood. The thought made her sigh, her hips rocking slightly, the water sloshing gently.





The moon had risen high in the sky by the time she stepped out of the tub, her skin glowing with the warmth of the water and the oils. Wrapping a soft towel around her body, she padded silently through the darkened house, her bare feet whispering against the cool marble floor. The night was alive with the sound of crickets, a serenade to the lovers' rendezvous she was about to embark on. Her heart raced as she reached the door to the servant's quarters, the anticipation of the illicit encounter pulsing through her veins.
In the dim light, she could see Ramesh waiting for her, his eyes dark with need. He took in her freshly bathed form, the scent of jasmine and sandalwood clinging to her skin, and she noticed the bulge in his pants, evidence of his unbridled desire. She reached into the pocket of her salwar, her hand closing around the small, square packet she had brought for safety. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, but she knew she had to protect herself.





With trembling fingers, she pulled out the condom and placed it on the nightstand, the silver foil glinting in the moonlight. It was a silent declaration of her intent, a commitment to the boundaries she had set for this clandestine affair. Ramesh's eyes followed the movement, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. He knew that she was a woman of class, that she could not risk herself to the base desires of a servant. Yet, in that moment, the line that separated them seemed to blur, and all that mattered was the hunger that pulsed between their bodies.





He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to caress her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw before moving down to her neck, where he gently tugged at the neckline of her kameez. The fabric parted with a soft whisper, revealing the soft mounds of her breasts, the nipples standing proud and eager. He took one in his mouth, his tongue circling the sensitive bud, and she moaned, arching her back, her hand sliding into his hair, holding him close. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin, sending bolts of pleasure straight to her core, making her wetter, more ready.





Her salwar fell to the floor in a pool of color, revealing her smooth, shaved mound, the scent of her arousal thick in the air. He took a moment to drink in the sight of her, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow on her body, making her look like a goddess come to life. His own clothing followed, each piece discarded with a haste born of years of repressed desire. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, pointing at her like a compass to true north.





Kamal watched him, her eyes wide with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Despite his confidence as a male, the stark reality of their social status differences made him shy, his gaze darting from her face to the floor, as if seeking permission to proceed. Yet, the way his cock jerked with every little sound she made was a clear indicator that he was anything but indifferent to her. His shyness only served to make him more appealing, a complex blend of strength and vulnerability that she found utterly irresistible.





With a gentle but firm hand, she pushed him back onto the bed, taking control of the situation. It was a role reversal that she enjoyed, a chance to explore the power dynamics that lay just beneath the surface of their everyday interactions. In the moonlit room, she straddled him, her wetness coating his thighs, her scent of jasmine and desire intoxicating him. His eyes widened with a mix of shock and awe as she reached for the condom, ripping it open with her teeth and sliding it down his length with the deftness of a seasoned seductress.





But before she could lower herself onto him, Ramesh's hand shot up to her face, his eyes pleading. "Kamal, please, I need you to suck me," he begged, his voice a hoarse whisper filled with need.





Kamal hesitated, her eyes dropping to the condom-covered erection before her. The scent of his desire was potent, yet she found herself recoiling at the sight of his unkempt groin. "Your dick stinks, Ramesh," she said, her voice firm. "And your balls are covered in so much hair, it's like trying to navigate a jungle."





Ramesh's cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend," he stammered, his hand moving to cover his crotch. "I'll go wash up."





But Kamal was already shaking her head. "No, Ramesh," she said with a sigh, "it's not about that. I just don't... I can't with that smell and all that hair." Her voice was firm, but not unkind. "You're a good man, a strong man, but your personal hygiene... it's not what I'm used to."

 

[kanishpussylovee]

Good start keep going

 

[Alpha3]

Good start keep going

Thanks buddy

 

[Alpha3]

Ramesh looked at her, his eyes a mix of disappointment and understanding. He had hoped she would indulge him, but he knew that she was right. He had never been one to care for such things, but now, in the face of her rejection, he felt a sting of embarrassment. He had never seen his own body as a source of revulsion before, but now he couldn't help but feel like he was lacking.





Yet, the fire of desire that burned within him was not so easily quenched. He sat up, his eyes searching hers for any sign of regret or pity. What he found instead was a spark of something else—appreciation. It was as if she had seen past his imperfections and found something there that she liked, something that made her want him despite the barrier that stood between them.





"Your... your husband," she began, her voice tentative, "his... his is not as big as yours."





The words hung in the air like a whispered secret, a spark that ignited the embers of hope within Ramesh. He looked at her, his eyes searching for the truth behind her statement. The silence stretched on, thick with the tension of unspoken desires and the weight of their social divide.





"Is that what you want?" he asked, his voice a mix of hope and disbelief.





Her eyes searched his, and for a moment, she was lost in the depths of his gaze. "It's not just the size, Ramesh," she said softly, reaching out to stroke his thick, veined length. "It's the way it makes me feel, the way it fills me."





The words hung in the air, a bridge over the chasm of their differences. Ramesh's chest swelled with a mix of pride and gratitude. He had always known that his size set him apart from other men, but to have it acknowledged by a woman like Kamal was a gift beyond measure. It was as if she had peered into his soul and found something worth cherishing. He watched as she stroked him, her hand moving up and down his shaft, her thumb caressing the sensitive spot just beneath the head.





He took a deep breath, his hand moving to cup her face. "Madam," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, "I will do anything to please you, anything to be worthy of your touch."





Kamal felt a warmth spread through her at the sound of his words, a warmth that seemed to melt away her reservations. She nodded, a small, almost imperceptible gesture, but one that spoke volumes. Ramesh leaned in, his mouth finding hers again in a kiss that was both fiery and gentle, a promise of the passion that awaited them.





He knew that he had to win her over, to show her that he could give her the pleasure she craved. He slid his hand down her body, his fingers finding the slick entrance to her womanhood. She was wet, so wet for him, and he reveled in the feel of her softness. His thumb began to circle her clit, teasing and pressing, as his tongue delved into her mouth, mimicking the rhythm of his hand.





Her legs parted further, and he took it as an invitation, his hand moving away to allow his mouth to replace his thumb. He leaned in, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered, "Madam." The word was a declaration of his service, a promise of his devotion, and it sent a shiver through her.





As he tasted her, his tongue sliding through her folds, she gripped the bed sheets, the fabric rough against her skin, grounding her in the reality of what she was doing. Yet the sensation of his mouth on her, his tongue dancing over her clit, sent her soaring into a realm of pure sensation. Her hips began to rock, a silent plea for more, and he obliged, his movements growing more insistent, his breaths coming in harsh gasps as he lost himself in the sweetness of her nectar.





The warmth of his mouth on her clit was a stark contrast to the coolness of the room, and she felt goosebumps rise on her skin. Her legs began to shake, the tension building within her like a tightly coiled spring. He could feel her getting closer, the muscles in her thighs tightening around his neck as she approached the precipice of release. And then she was there, crying out into the night, her body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.


As she came down from the peak of her climax, she looked at him, his face glistening with her juices, and she felt a strange sense of power. It was a power that she had never felt before, a power that she knew she could wield over this man, who was so desperate to please her. She knew that she had him in the palm of her hand, and she liked it.





With a soft smile, she leaned back, her legs still spread wide, her pussy glistening with her arousal. "Now, Ramesh," she said, her voice a low purr, "it's your turn."





Ramesh looked at her, his eyes wide with hunger. He knew what she meant, and the thought of it made his cock throb even harder. He had never been with a woman like Kamal, someone who could look him in the eye and demand such a thing. It was thrilling, and he felt a rush of adrenaline surge through him. He knelt before her, his head bent in submission, his cock standing tall and proud.





He felt the bed dip as she positioned herself above him, her soft, plump thighs straddling his face. He took a deep breath, inhaling her scent, feeling the warmth of her pussy against his cheek. Her hands found his shoulders, and she pushed herself down onto him, his nose buried in her slick folds, his mouth open to receive her. The taste of her was intoxicating, a heady mix of desire and feminine power. He felt her body quiver as he began to suck on her clit, his tongue flicking against her sensitive bud with a skill that was a testament to his years of longing.





Her moans grew louder, filling the room, a symphony of pleasure that was music to his ears. Her thighs tightened around his head, and he could feel the muscles in her pussy clench as she grew closer to her second climax. He knew that he had her, that she was his to do with as he willed. The knowledge was exhilarating, a rush that made his own orgasm feel like it was just within reach.





With one final, deep suck, she came again, her juices flooding his mouth, her body shaking with the force of her release. He lapped at her, drinking her in, savoring the taste of her, the feel of her against his tongue. It was a moment that seemed to last an eternity, a moment where nothing else mattered but the two of them and the passion that bound them together.





Kamal's body felt like it was made of liquid fire, her every nerve ending alive with sensation. She looked down at Ramesh, his face a picture of ecstasy as he pleasured her, and she knew that she had made the right choice. He was her secret, her forbidden fruit, and she was going to enjoy every moment of it.





With a gentle tug, she pulled him up from between her legs, his face slick with her arousal. He looked at her with a hunger that was almost feral, his eyes dark with desire. She took his cock in her hand, feeling the weight and heat of him, and guided him to her entrance. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching hers, as if seeking permission to cross the final boundary.





As she nodded, he positioned himself, the tip of his condom-covered length pressing against her. With a powerful thrust, he entered her, the head of his cock parting her folds with ease. The sensation of being filled by him was unlike anything she had ever felt before. He was thick, so thick, and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out as he pushed deeper. He crushed her soft, feminine body under his labored hardness, the contrast of their skin tones a visual testament to their forbidden union.





Her breasts bounced with each thrust, and she could feel the weight of his body pressing her into the mattress, his every muscle taut with the effort of holding back, of not taking her too roughly. But she wanted that roughness, she craved the raw power that emanated from him. Her nails dug into his back, urging him on, begging for more. And he gave it, his hips pumping into her with a rhythm that was as primal as it was perfect.





With a whimper, she whispered, "Gentler, Ramesh, I need you to be gentler."





Her voice was a soft caress, a gentle plea that seemed to echo in the quiet of the night.

 

[kanishpussylovee]

Ramesh looked at her, his eyes a mix of disappointment and understanding. He had hoped she would indulge him, but he knew that she was right. He had never been one to care for such things, but now, in the face of her rejection, he felt a sting of embarrassment. He had never seen his own body as a source of revulsion before, but now he couldn't help but feel like he was lacking.





Yet, the fire of desire that burned within him was not so easily quenched. He sat up, his eyes searching hers for any sign of regret or pity. What he found instead was a spark of something else—appreciation. It was as if she had seen past his imperfections and found something there that she liked, something that made her want him despite the barrier that stood between them.





"Your... your husband," she began, her voice tentative, "his... his is not as big as yours."





The words hung in the air like a whispered secret, a spark that ignited the embers of hope within Ramesh. He looked at her, his eyes searching for the truth behind her statement. The silence stretched on, thick with the tension of unspoken desires and the weight of their social divide.





"Is that what you want?" he asked, his voice a mix of hope and disbelief.





Her eyes searched his, and for a moment, she was lost in the depths of his gaze. "It's not just the size, Ramesh," she said softly, reaching out to stroke his thick, veined length. "It's the way it makes me feel, the way it fills me."





The words hung in the air, a bridge over the chasm of their differences. Ramesh's chest swelled with a mix of pride and gratitude. He had always known that his size set him apart from other men, but to have it acknowledged by a woman like Kamal was a gift beyond measure. It was as if she had peered into his soul and found something worth cherishing. He watched as she stroked him, her hand moving up and down his shaft, her thumb caressing the sensitive spot just beneath the head.





He took a deep breath, his hand moving to cup her face. "Madam," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, "I will do anything to please you, anything to be worthy of your touch."





Kamal felt a warmth spread through her at the sound of his words, a warmth that seemed to melt away her reservations. She nodded, a small, almost imperceptible gesture, but one that spoke volumes. Ramesh leaned in, his mouth finding hers again in a kiss that was both fiery and gentle, a promise of the passion that awaited them.





He knew that he had to win her over, to show her that he could give her the pleasure she craved. He slid his hand down her body, his fingers finding the slick entrance to her womanhood. She was wet, so wet for him, and he reveled in the feel of her softness. His thumb began to circle her clit, teasing and pressing, as his tongue delved into her mouth, mimicking the rhythm of his hand.





Her legs parted further, and he took it as an invitation, his hand moving away to allow his mouth to replace his thumb. He leaned in, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered, "Madam." The word was a declaration of his service, a promise of his devotion, and it sent a shiver through her.





As he tasted her, his tongue sliding through her folds, she gripped the bed sheets, the fabric rough against her skin, grounding her in the reality of what she was doing. Yet the sensation of his mouth on her, his tongue dancing over her clit, sent her soaring into a realm of pure sensation. Her hips began to rock, a silent plea for more, and he obliged, his movements growing more insistent, his breaths coming in harsh gasps as he lost himself in the sweetness of her nectar.





The warmth of his mouth on her clit was a stark contrast to the coolness of the room, and she felt goosebumps rise on her skin. Her legs began to shake, the tension building within her like a tightly coiled spring. He could feel her getting closer, the muscles in her thighs tightening around his neck as she approached the precipice of release. And then she was there, crying out into the night, her body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.


As she came down from the peak of her climax, she looked at him, his face glistening with her juices, and she felt a strange sense of power. It was a power that she had never felt before, a power that she knew she could wield over this man, who was so desperate to please her. She knew that she had him in the palm of her hand, and she liked it.





With a soft smile, she leaned back, her legs still spread wide, her pussy glistening with her arousal. "Now, Ramesh," she said, her voice a low purr, "it's your turn."





Ramesh looked at her, his eyes wide with hunger. He knew what she meant, and the thought of it made his cock throb even harder. He had never been with a woman like Kamal, someone who could look him in the eye and demand such a thing. It was thrilling, and he felt a rush of adrenaline surge through him. He knelt before her, his head bent in submission, his cock standing tall and proud.





He felt the bed dip as she positioned herself above him, her soft, plump thighs straddling his face. He took a deep breath, inhaling her scent, feeling the warmth of her pussy against his cheek. Her hands found his shoulders, and she pushed herself down onto him, his nose buried in her slick folds, his mouth open to receive her. The taste of her was intoxicating, a heady mix of desire and feminine power. He felt her body quiver as he began to suck on her clit, his tongue flicking against her sensitive bud with a skill that was a testament to his years of longing.





Her moans grew louder, filling the room, a symphony of pleasure that was music to his ears. Her thighs tightened around his head, and he could feel the muscles in her pussy clench as she grew closer to her second climax. He knew that he had her, that she was his to do with as he willed. The knowledge was exhilarating, a rush that made his own orgasm feel like it was just within reach.





With one final, deep suck, she came again, her juices flooding his mouth, her body shaking with the force of her release. He lapped at her, drinking her in, savoring the taste of her, the feel of her against his tongue. It was a moment that seemed to last an eternity, a moment where nothing else mattered but the two of them and the passion that bound them together.





Kamal's body felt like it was made of liquid fire, her every nerve ending alive with sensation. She looked down at Ramesh, his face a picture of ecstasy as he pleasured her, and she knew that she had made the right choice. He was her secret, her forbidden fruit, and she was going to enjoy every moment of it.





With a gentle tug, she pulled him up from between her legs, his face slick with her arousal. He looked at her with a hunger that was almost feral, his eyes dark with desire. She took his cock in her hand, feeling the weight and heat of him, and guided him to her entrance. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching hers, as if seeking permission to cross the final boundary.





As she nodded, he positioned himself, the tip of his condom-covered length pressing against her. With a powerful thrust, he entered her, the head of his cock parting her folds with ease. The sensation of being filled by him was unlike anything she had ever felt before. He was thick, so thick, and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out as he pushed deeper. He crushed her soft, feminine body under his labored hardness, the contrast of their skin tones a visual testament to their forbidden union.





Her breasts bounced with each thrust, and she could feel the weight of his body pressing her into the mattress, his every muscle taut with the effort of holding back, of not taking her too roughly. But she wanted that roughness, she craved the raw power that emanated from him. Her nails dug into his back, urging him on, begging for more. And he gave it, his hips pumping into her with a rhythm that was as primal as it was perfect.





With a whimper, she whispered, "Gentler, Ramesh, I need you to be gentler."





Her voice was a soft caress, a gentle plea that seemed to echo in the quiet of the night.

Nice

 

[Abdvirat@123]

Your boobs are bouncy too nice writing such a feel that I jerk off two time in a row

 

[Alpha3]

Your boobs are bouncy too nice writing such a feel that I jerk off two time in a row

Thanks bro.. glad to know my writing made a fellow buddy jerk

 

[Alpha3]

Ramesh nodded, his eyes never leaving hers as he adjusted his approach, his movements becoming more deliberate, his touch more tender. He knew she was used to the tender lovemaking of her husband, and he wanted to give her that, even if it was in the guise of their illicit affair. His hand slid down her back, his fingertips tracing the line of her spine as he bent to kiss her neck, her collarbone, her breasts. His kisses were butterfly-light, feathering over her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His other hand cupped her ass, lifting her slightly, allowing him to adjust his angle, to slide deeper into her.





Kamal felt his change in demeanor, his gentle touches, and she melted into them. Her body began to respond, her walls tightening around him, her hips moving in sync with his. Her breathing grew shallow, her eyes fluttering closed as she gave herself over to the sensations. Each thrust was a whisper of pleasure, a promise of more to come, and she found herself arching into him, her body begging for his touch.





His hands moved up to cradle her face, his thumbs brushing away the stray strands of hair that had come loose from her bun. His eyes searched hers, and she knew he was looking for the same connection she craved. He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers, a soft, tender kiss that belied the passion that raged within him. And she responded, her own hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, her tongue slipping into his mouth to dance with his.





It was a kiss that spoke of years of pent-up longing, of a desire that had simmered just beneath the surface, unspoken but ever-present. His touch grew more confident, his hands exploring her body with a reverence that was as surprising as it was arousing. He seemed to know every inch of her, as if he had studied her from afar, dreaming of this moment for a lifetime. His fingers found her breasts, his thumbs flicking her nipples, and she gasped into his mouth, the pleasure shooting straight to her core.





As their kiss grew more urgent, she felt the fabric of her kameez being pushed aside, his rough hands palming her soft mounds. Her own hands moved to his chest, pushing the shirt up to reveal the tapestry of muscles beneath. His skin was warm, his chest hair coarse against her palms, and she felt a thrill of excitement at the thought of feeling him against her bare flesh.





"What made you do this?" she murmured, breaking away from his mouth to catch her breath. "You've wanted me for years, I've seen it in your eyes."





Ramesh paused, his eyes searching hers, the sweat beading on his brow. "It was the way you looked at me today," he confessed, his voice a gruff whisper. "When you weren't watching, I saw something different, something that made me believe you felt it too."





Her gaze never left his as she processed his words. For years, she had felt the weight of his desire, a silent symphony that played out in the way he watched her, the way he moved around her. Yet she had never allowed herself to acknowledge it, to act on it. Until now.





"But why now?" she asked, her voice a soft caress that seemed to hang in the air. "What changed?"





Ramesh's eyes searched hers, the intensity of his gaze a stark contrast to the gentle stroking of her breasts. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "It was as if the stars aligned, and I could no longer ignore what was right in front of me."





Kamal's heart skipped a beat at his words, the realization of his long-standing desire for her sending a warm rush through her veins. In the dim light of the moon that filtered through the open window, she saw the raw hunger in his eyes, a look that made her feel both exposed and desired. "What was it?" she whispered, her voice a soft caress that seemed to hang in the air between them.





Ramesh paused, his gaze lingering on her face as he tried to put his thoughts into words. "It was your smile," he finally said, his voice a gruff murmur.


"The way it lit up your face when you talked to me about your son's wedding, the way your eyes danced with joy and love. It was as if I could see the real you, the woman beneath the mask of modesty and duty."





Kamal's breath hitched at his words, her hand coming up to cover her mouth in surprise. She had never thought that he would notice such a small thing, a mere gesture that had become second nature to her. But he had, and it was as if he had seen straight into her soul.





"And what did you see?" she asked, her eyes searching his.





Ramesh paused, his hand stilling on her breast, his thumb tracing the curve of her areola. "I saw a woman who was more than just a wife and a mother," he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers. "I saw a woman with desires, with needs that were not being met. And I wanted to be the one to give you that, to make you feel alive, to show you what it's like to truly be desired."





The words hung between them, thick with meaning, and she felt a shiver run down her spine. It was true, she had felt something shift in her that morning when she had caught him watching her, something that had made her feel seen in a way she hadn't in a very long time. And now, as his cock filled her, as his hands roamed her body, she knew that she had made the right choice.





Ramesh leaned down, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was as gentle as it was possessive. His tongue slipped between her lips, exploring her with the same thoroughness that his cock was exploring her depths. She felt herself falling into him, the guilt and fear of the day giving way to the all-consuming need that had been building for so long.





He broke the kiss and whispered against her ear, "What made you choose me, Madam?" His voice was ragged with passion, his breath hot against her skin.





Kamal's eyes searched his, the intensity of his gaze making her feel vulnerable. She had never been asked such a question before, not by Amrik, not by any of the other men who had come before him. It was as if he truly cared, as if her answer meant something to him. For a moment, she was lost in the depths of his eyes, the dark pools that seemed to hold the answers to all the secrets of the universe.





"Madam," Ramesh whispered again, his voice a gentle coaxing that seemed to caress her soul. "What made you choose me?"





Kamal's eyes searched his, the intensity of his gaze making her feel as if he could see straight to her core. It was a question she had not anticipated, and she felt a sudden rush of vulnerability. But there was something in the way he asked, something that made her want to lay bare her soul, to confess the truth that had led her to this moment of infidelity.





"It was the hunger," she whispered, her voice a soft caress that seemed to echo through the stillness of the night. "The hunger in your eyes, the way you looked at me as if I was the only woman in the world. After so many years of being taken for granted, of being just a wife, a mother, a possession to be used and discarded, I needed to feel desired again."





Her words seemed to strip away the last veneer of propriety between them, leaving only raw, naked emotion. His gaze grew even more intense, his eyes burning into hers with a passion that she had never seen in Amrik's. He began to move again, his cock sliding in and out of her with a slow, deliberate rhythm that had her body singing with pleasure. Each stroke was a declaration of his hunger, of his need to claim her, to make her his own.





As he watched her, Ramesh felt his own desire growing, the need to possess her completely, to leave his mark upon her, to show the world that she belonged to him. His teeth grazed her neck, and he felt the urge to sink them into the soft flesh of her breasts, to leave a bruise that would be a badge of his ownership. But something held him back, a voice in the back of his mind reminding him of the consequences of his actions.





Kamal's hand moved to his face, her touch tender, her eyes filled with a mix of lust and wariness. "Ramesh," she murmured, "be careful. We can't let Amrik know."