Previous Part: Unspoken Desires: Passionate Connection Between Rohan & Ananya
As I kissed her navel, I felt the softness of Ananya’s skin under my lips. My breath quickened with every second. The way her fingers played in my hair drove me wild, each touch urging me to go further, to feel her even more deeply.
I could hear her sigh softly. Her body reacted to every kiss, every lick. Her vulnerability, her desire—it all fueled my own growing hunger for her. I looked up and saw her watching me, eyes heavy with need. At that moment, I knew I had to take her in fully.
I gently tugged at the edge of her saree, feeling it slip through my fingers and fall to the floor. She turned slightly, giving me access and helping me peel it away from her body. Her movements were slow, almost teasing. But her breathing told me she was just as lost in the moment as I was.
When I saw her standing there, the black blouse clinging to her curves, it was like time stopped. She looked incredibly sexy, her body practically glowing under the dim light. I couldn’t help myself—I needed to feel her, taste her. I moved back up, kissing her neck again, my lips grazing her warm skin.
The way her body shivered beneath my mouth made my pulse race. Her head tilted back, exposing more of her neck. I felt a surge of desire crash through me. She was surrendering to me, giving herself to this moment. I wanted to show her how much that meant.
I kissed her again, softly this time, as my hands moved to the knot of her petticoat. The fabric gave way easily, sliding down to the ground, revealing more of her to me. It was the sight of her red panty, revealed as her petticoat fell to the ground, that took my breath away.
The bold colour contrasted beautifully against her skin, making her look even more alluring. I felt a rush of heat as I pulled her close, wrapping my arms around her body. Her curves pressed against me, warm and soft. I couldn’t resist the urge to grab her ass, pulling her even closer.
My fingers dug into her flesh as I squeezed, feeling the way her body responded to my touch. Her moan—my name falling from her lips—sent a jolt of excitement through me. I looked into her eyes as I pressed her against me, my heart pounding in my chest.
The way she clung to me, her hands gripping the back of my neck, told me everything I needed to know. She wanted this just as much as I did. I could feel her desire matching mine, our breaths mingling as we stood there. Our bodies tangled in the heat of the moment.
“Ananya,” I whispered, pressing my lips to hers again. She tasted sweet and intoxicating, and I couldn’t get enough. My hands roamed over her body, tracing every curve, every inch of her soft skin. The sight of her in that red panty, so daring and beautiful, only heightened my desire.
I could feel her melting into me, giving herself over to the moment. That made me want her even more. Every kiss, every touch was a promise of what was to come—a promise of the passion building between us. I squeezed her ass again, feeling the way her body moved against mine, her soft moans in my ear.
She was completely in sync with me, our bodies moving as one. This was what I had dreamed of for so long. The connection, the desire, the overwhelming need to feel her in every possible way. I turned her around gently, guiding her until her breasts pressed softly against the wall.
Her breath hitched, and I could feel the tension between us building, the anticipation thick in the air. I leaned in, planting soft kisses along her back. Starting at the nape of her neck and working my way down, savouring the taste of her skin.
As my lips moved lower, I couldn’t resist the urge to squeeze her ass again. My hands gripped her curves, feeling her body respond to my touch. I mauled her ass gently, kneading the softness. I moved even lower, my lips trailing kisses down the length of her spine.
I reached the curve of her hips. I kissed her over the fabric of her red panty, inhaling her warmth and feeling her body shiver beneath my touch. She gasped softly, and I could tell she was completely lost in the moment.
The way her body trembled, the way she pressed back against me, told me everything I needed to know. This was exactly where she wanted to be—exactly where I wanted her to be. I moved back up, my lips brushing over her skin, my fingers finding the hooks of her blouse.
With a simple motion, I unhooked it, the fabric loosening from her body. I slid it off her shoulders and watched as it fell to the floor. Leaving her standing there in nothing but her red bra and panty. For a moment, I just stood there, taking her in—completely mesmerized by how beautiful she looked.
The contrast of the bold red against her skin made her even more irresistible. She was stunning, sexy, and incredibly alluring, her body glistening with desire. She turned her head slightly, giving me a look that set my pulse racing. My hands instinctively moved to her hips.
I pulled her close, pressing my body against hers. I could feel her heat, her softness, and the way her body moulded perfectly into mine. “You’re so beautiful, Ananya,” I whispered, my voice thick with desire. She was everything I had dreamed of—sexy, confident, and completely lost in the moment with me.
I couldn’t hold back anymore. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace, feeling her softness against my chest. My hands moved instinctively, lifting her. She responded by wrapping her legs around my waist. Her breath was hot against my neck.
I could feel her heartbeat sync with mine as I carried her toward the bed. The same bed where she once had shared her intimacy with her husband. There was something electric about that thought, something that made this moment feel even more powerful, more charged with meaning.
I laid her gently on the bed, her body sinking into the softness of the sheets. She looked up at me, her eyes shimmering with anticipation and desire. The room was bathed in a soft, dim light, casting long shadows on the walls. At that moment, Ananya looked nothing short of perfect.
Her red bra and panty clung to her body, highlighting every curve, every line that I had admired from a distance for so long. Around her neck, the mangalsutra dangled lightly against her chest, a symbol of her past yet adding an undeniable allure to her beauty.
She was breathtaking. The contrast of her red lingerie against the subtle gold of the mangalsutra made her look even more captivating. She was a vision of sensuality, lying there, waiting for me. The air between us was thick with unspoken desire.
Her body called to me, her eyes telling me everything I needed to know. For a moment, I just stood there, taking her in. The beauty of the moment, the weight of what was about to happen, and the intense connection that had brought us here.
She was perfect, and I wanted to make sure this night would be unforgettable. I moved back over her, unable to resist the pull of her body. My lips found her navel once again, kissing the softness of her skin, lingering there as I heard her breath hitch.
Her hands were in my hair, urging me closer, Her fingers moving through the strands with soft yet insistent pressure. I let my hands roam up to her chest, feeling her breasts beneath the fabric of her bra. I kissed her there, over the delicate fabric, tasting the heat of her body through it.
I felt her push herself against me, moaning my name in soft, breathless whispers. Her voice was the only sound in the room, and it sent waves of desire through me. She pushed my head down onto her chest, urging me to continue. Her body responds to every touch, every kiss.
I slid the straps of her bra off her shoulders, kissing the smooth skin beneath. My lips trailed down as I worked to free her from the last pieces of fabric between us. Her breasts were finally bare, and just as I was about to take the lead again, Ananya took control.
She grabbed my face with both hands. Her fingers held me with an unexpected force, and she pressed my mouth onto her breasts. Her body arched beneath me, her hips shifting. I let her guide me, kissing, tasting, feeling her skin, her warmth.
Every sound that escaped her lips made me want her more, made me want to give her everything she was craving. I couldn’t hold back any longer. The moment her breasts were in my hands, I went wild. My lips closed around one of her nipples.
I sucked hard, drawing moans from deep within her. I wanted to devour her, to feel every inch of her in my mouth. I took as much of her breast as I could, sucking, licking, letting my tongue flick across her nipple before I bit down gently, just enough to make her gasp.
My other hand worked on her other breast, squeezing and kneading, my fingers pinching her nipple. I continued to feast on her body. But the sight of her mangalsutra hanging between her breasts, resting against her skin, hit me with a sudden realization.
That chain was more than just a piece of jewellery—it was a reminder. It was the symbol of her marriage, a sign that she belonged to another man. And here I was, not her husband, losing myself in her body. The weight of what we were doing crashed over me. I looked up at her.
I could see the same awareness flicker in her eyes, even through her moans. She knew, too. She knew that it wasn’t her husband touching her this way, making her feel this way. The mangalsutra, usually a symbol of love and fidelity, now felt like a reminder of the forbidden nature of our desire.
But the more I stared at it, the more it fueled me. The tension, the thrill of knowing this was a line we weren’t supposed to cross, made the moment feel even more intense. She moaned my name louder, pushing my face deeper into her cleavage as if wanting to drown out that voice of doubt.
I treated her breasts with wild intensity. Licking, sucking, and biting her nipples, knowing full well what we were doing was wrong. And yet, we both craved it. My free hand kneaded her other breast, tugging at her nipple. I let the chain of her mangalsutra brush against my lips.
The taboo of the situation heightened every touch every movement, making her body seem even more intoxicating. She turned around, giving me full access to her back, and I couldn’t resist. I leaned in and began kissing her neck, trailing my lips down her spine. I kissed every inch, savouring the softness of her skin.
I went lower, kissing along her lower back, feeling her body respond to each touch, each kiss. Then, I moved down to her ass. I planted soft kisses there, cupping and kneading it with my hands. My fingers gently squeezed. I playfully bit her ass cheeks, just enough to make her gasp and giggle.
“Ouch,” she said, laughing with pleasure. The sound of her laughter sent a wave of warmth through me, knowing I was giving her joy in this moment of intimacy. I climbed off the bed, still holding her hand. I guided her to the full-length mirror by the wall.
I brought her close, pulling her back against my chest. I wrapped my arms around her waist and pressed my lips to her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her skin. Her body fit perfectly against mine. The sight of her in those red panties, with the mangalsutra still hanging between her breasts, made my pulse race.
“Look at yourself,” I whispered into her ear, my lips brushing her earlobe as I spoke. “Look how beautiful you are.” My hands roamed over her waist, slowly caressing her hips and sides, feeling the curve of her body under my touch. She gazed at her reflection, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror.
There was something electric about seeing ourselves this way—her in my arms, both of us fully aware of the intensity of what we were doing. I kissed her neck again, my lips leaving a trail of warmth as my hands slid upward, cupping her breasts through the fabric of her bra.
“Watch yourself,” I murmured, my voice low and filled with desire. “Watch as I make love to you.” Once again, I pressed her breasts, feeling the softness of her skin under my hands. I mauled them with a raw intensity. Ananya’s body tensed and relaxed against me.
Her eyes locked onto her reflection in the mirror, trying to keep watching herself being ravished by me. The sight of her standing there—just in her red panties, with the mangalsutra dangling between her breasts as a symbol of her being married—only made the moment hotter, more forbidden.
I moved one hand down, gliding over her belly before pressing against her pussy, rubbing it slowly over the fabric of her red panties. She moaned softly, her lips parting as her body arched into my touch. The heat of her arousal seeped through the fabric.
I could feel her wetness building beneath my fingertips. She was melting into my hands. Her head rested back on my shoulder, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before she tried again to focus on the image in the mirror. Her moans were driving me wild.
But when her hands reached behind her and found my erection straining against my jeans, I couldn’t hold back. Her fingers brushed against me, teasing through the denim, sending jolts of pleasure through my body. I quickly unbuttoned my jeans and pushed them down, stepping out of them.
I hugged her again, pulling her body tight against mine, feeling her warmth. This time, her hands went straight to my underwear, her fingers tracing over the outline of my dick. She gripped it through the fabric, teasing me as I groaned against her neck, my mouth hovering near her ear.
Her fingers fumbled to slide inside my undies, searching for skin, while my hand continued to rub her pussy over her panties. She was soaked now, her panties clinging to her. I applied more pressure, my fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles.
My other hand was still on her breasts, kneading and squeezing, keeping her arousal high. All this, right in front of the mirror, added another layer of intensity to the moment. Watching myself touch her, I was seeing her reflection surrendering to the pleasure I was giving her.
This only heightened the sense of forbidden passion between us. She turned around. Before I could anticipate her next move, she dropped to her knees in front of me. My breath caught in my throat as she pulled down my underwear, her fingers brushing against my skin, sending shivers through my body.
The sight of her on her knees, just in her red panties, was something I hadn’t imagined. Yet it felt like an electric charge had ignited between us. Her hands wrapped around my warm dick, holding me firmly. The sensation of her touch was almost too much—my body was on the verge of exploding with pleasure.
With a mischievous smile, she looked up at me, her eyes filled with bold, teasing energy. “I was craving for this, Rohan, for quite some time,” she said, her voice dripping with mischief that made my heart race. “You’re a bit late.” Her words caught me off guard.
For a moment, all I could do was stare at her. Her boldness, her hunger—it was all so unexpected, yet thrilling. I felt a surge of desire run through me, and the reality of the situation hit me hard. I gently stroked her hair, trying to steady myself.
“Look at yourself,” I whispered, my voice thick with a mix of lust and awe. “In the mirror. Just in your panties, on your knees… about to give a blowjob to a man who isn’t your husband.” She hesitated for a brief second, her eyes darting to the mirror beside us.
The reflection was intense. Her slender body in that last piece of red fabric. Her mangalsutra was still around her neck, glinting in the dim light. The sight of her like this was the kind of taboo moment we both knew we would never forget. I watched her face as she absorbed the gravity of what we were doing.
Her lips parted slightly, and I could see the mix of guilt and excitement playing out on her features. Yet, it only heightened the moment, the tension between us. I knew she felt it too—the duality of the pleasure and the forbidden line we were crossing.
I asked her softly, “If you want, you can take off the mangalsutra.” For a moment, her eyes flickered with thought, reflecting on the symbol of her marriage hanging around her neck. But instead of taking it off or hesitating, she gave me a slow, mischievous smile that made my heart race.
“There’s something else I want to do with this mangalsutra,” she whispered, her voice dripping with intent. I watched as she unclasped it from around her neck, the beads slipping from her fingers. My mind raced, wondering what she was about to do next. But when she bent down again, my breath caught in my throat.
With a calculated, almost wicked look in her eyes, she gently wrapped the mangalsutra around the base of my dick. The cool beads felt electric against my skin, tightening around me, mixing the sacred with the forbidden in a way that felt impossibly erotic.
She looked up at me, her hands still resting on my now-hard cock, and whispered, “Now it’s yours.” Before I could respond, she leaned forward and took me into her mouth. The sight of the mangalsutra still wrapped around me making the moment feel even more intense.
The taboo, the weight of what we were doing, pulsed through me with each movement of her lips, each flick of her tongue. My breath came in short gasps as I looked down at her. On her knees, wrapped in red lace and her mangalsutra no longer around her neck, but now around me.
The thought of it, the symbolism, made everything even more intense. I groaned her name as she continued. Her mouth worked expertly on my cock. I could barely think—feel. Her hands, her lips, and the tight pull of the beads around me all combined into an overwhelming wave of pleasure.
To be continued.
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Next Part: Unspoken Desires: Passionate Connection Between Rohan & Ananya – Part 3