The days blurred into a haze of forbidden heat.
Vikram's trip extended—some corporate emergency in Singapore—and Priya wasted no time claiming every free moment Aryan had. College became an afterthought; he rushed home each afternoon, cock already throbbing at the thought of her waiting, door unlocked, body bare and ready.
Tonight was no different.
Priya greeted him in nothing but a sheer black negligee, the fabric clinging to her sweat-damp curves like a second skin. Her heavy breasts spilled over the low neckline, nipples dark and hard, thick thighs parted slightly to show the glistening lips of her pussy—already wet, already aching.
"I missed you today," she purred, pulling him inside and pinning him against the door. Her mouth claimed his in a bruising kiss, tongue demanding entry as her hand dove into his pants, stroking his rapidly hardening length. "Missed this big young cock stretching me. Filling me."
Aryan groaned into her mouth, hands gripping her ass—full, soft, marked with faint bruises from previous nights. "Priya... fuck, you're insatiable."
She laughed, low and filthy, dropping to her knees right there in the entryway. "And you're my perfect stud. So much stamina... so much cum for this greedy pussy."
She freed his cock, licking a stripe from balls to tip, savoring the salty pre-cum beading there. Then she swallowed him deep—throat relaxing, nose pressing against his pelvis as she deepthroated with ease born of experience. Aryan's hips bucked involuntarily, fucking her face as saliva dripped down her chin, coating her heaving breasts.
Priya pulled off with a gasp, strings of spit connecting her lips to his glistening shaft. "Use my mouth. Cum down my throat whenever you want."
He did—gripping her hair, thrusting roughly until tears streamed down her cheeks. She moaned around him, fingers buried in her own pussy, squirting lightly onto the floor as he flooded her throat with thick ropes. She swallowed greedily, milking every drop, then opened wide to show him her clean tongue.
"Good girl," he rasped, pulling her up. The praise made her clench, juices dripping down her thighs.
They didn't make it to the bedroom.
Priya bent over the kitchen counter, ass presented, negligee hiked up. "Fuck me raw again. Breed me like your personal slut."
Aryan slammed in—her pussy hot, velvety, gripping him like a vice. The wet slaps echoed, her thick ass rippling with every thrust. He spanked her hard, watching red handprints bloom on golden skin.
"Yes! Spank your married whore! Harder!"
He choked her lightly from behind, thumb on her pulse as he railed her, feeling her walls flutter. Priya came screaming, squirting around his cock, but he didn't stop—pounding through her overstimulation until she sobbed with pleasure.
"Can't... too much... ahh fuck yes!"
He filled her deep—hot spurts painting her womb as she milked him dry.
But she wanted more.
Priya pushed him onto the couch, straddling reverse. Her feet—soft soles, painted toes—pressed against his thighs as she rode him, grinding her clit while his cock hit depths Vikram never reached.
"Feel my feet on you? Worship them later... but first, cum inside again."
They fucked like animals—standing against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist as he bounced her on his cock; on the floor, missionary with her ankles on his shoulders, pussy stretched obscenely around his thickness; doggy with his thumb teasing her tight ass, dipping in knuckle-deep as she begged for more.
"Next time... fuck my ass too," she gasped, cumming again as he bred her third load of the night.
Cleanup became ritual—her sucking him clean, then sitting on his face so he could eat his cum from her leaking hole. She rubbed the overflow into her skin, marking herself with his scent.
By midnight, they lay spent on the balcony—risky, open air—but Priya craved the thrill. She stroked his half-hard cock lazily, cum still dripping from her well-used pussy.
"You're addicted to me," Aryan murmured, fingers tracing her swollen lips.
Priya's eyes gleamed possessively in the moonlight. "And you're mine. I don't care about Vikram anymore. When he returns... I'll find ways to keep you inside me."
Her phone buzzed on the table—Vikram's name flashing.
She silenced it without looking, pulling Aryan into another kiss. "Ignore him. Fuck me one more time."
But as Aryan slid into her again under the stars, the ignored call felt like a ticking bomb.
How long could they keep this secret?