Voyeur’s Forbidden Flame

I woke an hour later, her body still pressed to mine, her skin slick from our earlier passion. My hands roamed, tracing the curve of her hips, her thighs, finding the warmth between them still glistening. I teased her there, then slid lower, my fingers circling her tightest entrance, slick with our mingled fluids. She stirred, a soft moan escaping as I eased one finger inside, then two, moving slowly to relax her. I kissed her neck, her spine, murmuring, “I want this – I want all of you.”

She didn’t pull away. I took my time, stretching her gently, my lips never leaving her skin – her ear, her shoulder, the small of her back. When she was ready, I positioned her on her knees, her body open to me. I pressed myself against her, easing forward with care, the tight resistance giving way as I entered her, inch by slow inch. She gasped, a mix of pain and pleasure, and I paused, whispering, “Breathe, let me in.” I held still, letting her adjust, until she rocked back against me, urging me deeper.

I moved then, slow at first, each thrust measured, feeling her stretch around me. “More,” she panted, and I gave it to her – harder, deeper, my hands gripping her hips as I set a relentless pace. The sensation was overwhelming, her tightness gripping me as I plunged in, pulling nearly out before driving back, the rhythm building to a fever pitch. She pushed back, meeting every thrust, her voice raw – “Yes, break me, give it all to me.” I lost myself in her, spanking her lightly, tugging her hair to pull her into a messy, hungry kiss as our bodies slammed together.

Her climax hit like a storm, her body convulsing, and I followed, releasing deep inside her with forceful pulses, filling her until we collapsed, breathless. She turned, taking me into her mouth again, cleaning me with languid strokes, her tongue swirling until I was hard again. We didn’t stop – that day, I skipped my seminar, and we devoured each other, messy and unashamed. Her taste, her scent, the way she moved – it was raw, primal, unforgettable.

It marked the beginning of a hidden affair, a tangle of stolen moments that stretched two years until I left my brother’s house, carrying the memory of Lily’s wildfire passion with me, a secret etched into every fiber of my being.

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