Chapter 50: the stronger neighbor pounds her into satisfaction part- 2
A wave of pure, unrestrained pleasure, so intense it bordered on pain, flooded every nerve ending. This, she thought deliriously, this is what I've been starving for.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing, the air thick with the scent of mating and sweat. Wilson slumped forward, his forehead resting against her sternum, his body heavy and spent on top of hers.
Kamini's arms, which had been clutching his back, fell limply to her sides. Her vision swam, the ceiling a blurry white expanse above her. Slowly, he softened inside her, but he made no move to pull out.
Instead, he nuzzled the valley between her melons, his breath hot against her damp, sensitized skin. One of his large, calloused hands came up to lazily cup one of her melons, his thumb stroking the oversensitive, pebbled cherry.
A soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips at the touch. Oh god, even now… "You are a fantasy," he murmured, his voice a rough, awed whisper against her skin.
"I've watched you hanging laundry, the way your saree would cling to your back when you stretched. I've imagined those melons in my hands a thousand times. The reality is…" He squeezed gently, and she gasped. "…so much more."
He finally lifted his head to look at her, his eyes dark with a sated, possessive hunger. His gaze trailed down her body, taking in the mess they had made. Kamini followed his look.
Her stomach and the dark thatch of curls between her thighs were glistening, painted with the evidence of his release. A fresh, hot thrill shot through her at the sight. It was so lewd and so claiming.
Wilson shifted, finally withdrawing from her with a soft, damp sound that made her blush deepen. He didn't go far. He knelt on the floor between her splayed legs, his hands on her thighs, keeping her open for his inspection.
He stared at her glistening, well used center with an artist's appreciation. "Look at you," he breathed. "So beautiful and so filled, used just the way you wanted to be." He leaned forward, and for a heart stopping second, she thought he was going to kiss her there.
But he didn't. He just hovered, his warm breath ghosting over her sensitive flesh, making her quiver. Then, he pressed a single, soft, almost reverent kiss high on her inner thigh. The gesture was so unexpectedly tender amidst the carnality that it made her chest ache.
"You're going to think about this every time your husband touches you," he stated, his voice low and certain. It wasn't a question. "You're going to remember the weight of me. The feel of me stretching you open. This is the taste of your own pleasure on my tongue."
A shiver, part dread and part unrestrained excitement, ran through her. He was right. Suresh's timid, routine caresses would feel like a pale imitation of a ghost from now on.
They would only serve to remind her of the seismic event that had just shattered the quiet prison of her marriage. Wilson's hands slid from her thighs to her hips, his grip firm as he turned her over onto her stomach with a startling ease.
The silk of her abandoned saree was cool beneath her flushed skin. "What…" she began, but the question died in her throat as he parted her thighs from behind. "I'm not done," he growled, his voice thick with a renewed hunger that made her core clench in eager anticipation.
"I've watched that ass of yours sway across the yard for a month. I need to see it. I need to have it." His hands kneaded the full, round globes of her buttocks, spreading them apart. Kamini buried her face in the cushion, a fresh wave of wanton heat flooding her.
This was beyond anything she had imagined. She was completely exposed, utterly vulnerable, and it was the most exhilarating feeling of her life.
He traced a single, rough finger down the seam of her, from the damp, swollen lips of her lower mouth, over the tight, hidden pucker of her little pink hole between her butt cheeks and back again. She jolted at the intimate contact, a sharp, high pitched whimper catching in her throat.
Oh god, there… "So responsive," he chuckled darkly. "Every part of you is begging for attention, isn't it?" He didn't wait for an answer. He coated two fingers in the slickness dripping from her core and began to circle the tight, forbidden rim.
Kamini's breath hitched. Her fingers clawed at the sofa fabric. It was a shocking, alien sensation, but the sheer taboo of it, the look of raw lust she knew would be on his face, sent a jolt of pure lightning through her.
"Wilson…" she moaned, her voice muffled by the cushion. "Relax," he commanded softly, his voice a low hum that vibrated through her. "Just relax and take it. This is what you really invited me in for, wasn't it? To show you everything you've been missing."
He applied more pressure, a slow, insistent push that made her eyes widen. The stretch was immense, unbelievable, a sweet, burning invasion that was so completely different from before.
She cried out, a strangled sound of shock and overwhelming pleasure as the tip of his thick finger breached the tight ring of muscle and slid inside her. The world narrowed to that single, shocking point of penetration.
He held himself there, letting her adjust to the incredible fullness, the feeling of being taken in a way she never had. Then, he began to move. A slow, shallow Fack with his finger that made her sees stars.
Her hips pushed back against his hand of their own volition, a silent plea for more. "That's it," he encouraged, his other hand stroking her back. "You're taking it so well. You were made for this."
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