My friend 5 : delivery boy delivering cum inside me

"Are you okay?" he asked, setting the tray down on the bedside table. "I know iti we hadn't known each other before, so ir would be awkward for you to tell me if you're not ready." He took my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We can wait, Iti. As long as you need."

I nodded, my cheeks flaming with a mix of relief and frustration. I knew I should be grateful for his understanding, but the truth was, I was ready. I wanted him to take me, to claim me as I had seen in the videos, to make me feel the way Rajib had made me feel. But the words wouldn't come, stuck in my throat like a lump of unspoken desire.

"I am not someone who go on fucking girls without their consent, even if it is my wife. You don't have to be shy, tell me if you are okay," he had said, his voice soothing my nerves. But his words only served to intensify the ache between my legs, the need for him to fill me with the same fiery passion that Rajib had. I had nodded, too overwhelmed by the situation to speak, and watched as he removed his sherwani and climbed into the bed beside me.

The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and I could feel the heat of his body radiating through the thin fabric of my sari. He lay there, his chest rising and falling with every breath, and I was acutely aware of every inch of space that separated us. My mind raced with the thought of sex.

I lay there in the dark, my body a tapestry of anticipation and doubt. Could I really go through with this? Would he be able to satisfy the hunger that had been awakened in me? The silence of the room was deafening, a stark contrast to the tumult of emotions that churned within me.

Shurendran lay beside me, his breathing deep and even. I watched him sleep, his chest rising and falling in the soft light that filtered through the curtains. He looked so peaceful, so innocent, and for a moment, I felt a pang of regret for the thoughts that consumed me.

But as the quiet of the room stretched on, my mind was anything but peaceful. And i felt his hand on my belly, moving upwards. His touch was light, but it sent shivers down my spine. I could feel my pussy growing wet again, the need for release almost unbearable. He was moving in his sleep, and I could see his cock tenting the fabric of his pants. The sight made me ache, and I couldn't help but wonder if he was dreaming of me, if he felt the same unbridled lust that I did.

I Waited and waited no response. Then I put his hand on my boobs silently and held it there. His hand began to move on its own, cupping my breast. A soft moan escaped my lips, and his eyes fluttered open. For a moment, there was a flash of confusion, but it quickly melted away, replaced by a knowing smile. I waited for 10 more minutes and his hand was still on my boobs . And his breath now became rush. He woke up. I pretend to sleep giving out snoring sound.

He paused, his eyes searching my face in the darkness, and then he squeezed gently. I could feel his cock hardening against my thigh, and I knew that the moment had arrived. But Shurendran's response was unexpected. He took a sharp intake of breath and jerked his hand away, whispering an apology into the quiet room. I held my breath, my heart racing as he placed a pillow between us, creating a barrier of fabric that seemed to symbolize the unspoken tension that had arisen.

With a sigh, he rolled onto his back, and I felt the mattress shift. His eyes closed, and his breathing evened out, but I knew he wasn't asleep. I lay there, my own need unfulfilled, my body thrumming with desire. The silence was thick, charged with unspoken words and unmet expectations.

The days that followed were a dance of frustration and longing. Shurendran went to work, leaving me to navigate the uncharted waters of married life alone. I tried to fill the hours with mundane tasks, but my mind always drifted back to the nights, to the warmth of his body next to mine and the ache that grew with every passing moment.

When he came home at 7 PM, I'd greet him with a smile, eager for any scrap of affection he might offer. He'd peck me on the cheek, his eyes avoiding mine, and I'd feel the heat of his desire, the same hunger that I felt, but he'd retreat, leaving me with nothing but a kiss or a affectionate hug that seemed to taunt me with its brevity.

Night after night, I tried to seduce him. I wore clothing that barely contained my curves, hoping that the sight of my hardened nipples or the curve of my ass would be enough to make him lose control. I'd lie in bed, my heart pounding, my skin slick with need, as I listened to the soft sounds of him getting ready for sleep. Sometimes, I'd feel his hand brush against my thigh, his fingers lingering for just a second longer than they should. But every time I tried to take it further, to guide him to the place where I needed him most, he'd pull away, murmur an apology, and roll over to face the wall.

The frustration was unbearable, a constant throb that no amount of masturbation could alleviate. I longed for his touch, for the feeling of his cock inside me, for the release that I knew only he could give me. But the more I pushed, the more he retreated, until I felt like a desperate animal, trapped in a cage of my own making.

And then, the universe delivered an unexpected twist. The day after my failed seduction, my phone rang with a notification from Amazon—my vibrator had arrived, a sleek, pink device that promised to satisfy my every need. I had ordered it in a moment of desperation, a silent cry for relief in a world where my husband's touch was denied.

Shurendran had called me earlier in the day, his voice tense with urgency. "Iti, there's an emergency at work," he had said. "I have to go to Switzerland for a couple of days. Are you okay with that?" I had agreed, trying to hide the mix of relief and frustration in my voice. Two days alone—it was a reprieve, but also a prison of unfulfilled desire.

As the rain pattered against the windows, I eagerly awaited the delivery of my vibrator, a silent ally in my quest for pleasure. I just went into a hot shower to wash off my frustrations and was in the middle of it when the doorbell rang. Wrapping the towel hastily around my body, I stepped out into the cool hallway, my skin still glistening from the water.

When I opened the door, I was met with a gust of cold air and a young man, not much older than me, drenched to the bone. He looked at me with a mix of surprise and embarrassment, holding out the package with a shaky hand. I couldn't help but feel a flicker of attraction at the sight of his muscular shoulders, water droplets clinging to his skin. "Your delivery, ma'am," he said, his voice cracking slightly."otp please."

"You are completely drenched man, come in first and close the door the air outside os cold. Thank god for the central heating," I said as I stepped aside to let him in. He was shivering slightly, the rain water running down his face and neck in rivulets, making his skin glisten. I couldn't help but feel a stirring in my loins at the sight of this stranger, so close to me in such an intimate setting.

"You sit here i will go fetch a towel and mobile to give you OTP," I told him pointing to the chair. His eyes took a quick tour of my body and then went to my face. I noticed a hint of a smile and a spark in his eyes. I hurriedly went to my room and took out the towel and my phone from the bedside drawer and came back to give it to him. He was standing still in the living room, looking at me with a strange expression. "You can sit now," I said handing over the towel to him.

He took the towel and started to dry his hair, his biceps flexing with every movement. The sight was too much to handle, and my pussy began to throb again. "Your OTP is 5823," I whispered, my voice low and breathy. He pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped the number into his device before handing it back to me.

"Thank you," he murmured, his eyes lingering on my barely covered body. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" The question hung in the air, heavy with innuendo. I knew I should be embarrassed, but instead, I felt a thrill run through me. The rain outside had turned into a full-blown storm, the thunder echoing through the quiet house. It was as if the universe itself was egging me on, urging me to give in to my desires.

I pulled a chair to sit beside him. "Do you have any other delivery to make?" I asked, making conversation as I watched him dry himself off. He shook his head, and the droplets of water scattered from his hair. "This was my last one for the day. The rain's really coming down out there."

Our eyes met, and in that moment, I knew what was about to happen. The air grew thick with anticipation, and my heart pounded in my chest. I took a deep breath, letting the scent of his rain-dampened clothes mingle with the sweet, heady scent of my arousal. The towel was doing little to hide the swell of my breasts, and I knew he could see the outline of my hardened nipples.

"What's your name?" I asked the delivery boy, breaking the tension with the ease of a knife slicing through warm butter. He looked up from his towel, his eyes meeting mine for a brief, electrifying moment before dropping to my chest. I couldn't blame him; my towel had slipped slightly, revealing the top of my cleavage.

"It's Aman," he replied, his voice a little hoarse. He was trying to maintain eye contact, but his gaze kept straying to the spot where my towel was barely clinging to my damp skin. I felt a thrill of power, knowing that I had him captivated. "What about you?"

"I'm Itishree," I murmured, taking a step closer to him. The rain had stopped momentarily, but the sound of it pattering against the windows was still a comforting backdrop to our encounter. "Why don't you stay for a while?" I suggested, my voice a siren's call. "Let's wait out the storm."

Aman looked at me for a beat too long, his eyes traveling from my face to the plunging neckline of the towel that barely contained my breasts. I could see the hunger in his gaze, the same hunger that I felt in every fiber of my being. He nodded, and the tension in the room grew palpable, thick with unspoken desire.

As we talked, the rain outside grew more intense, the sound of the drops hitting the windows a rhythmic backdrop to our conversation. His eyes never left mine, and I could feel his body heat from across the small space between us. The room was warm, a stark contrast to the cold, wet world beyond our doorstep.

"You know," I began, my voice a seductive purr, "it's not good to be in wet clothes for too long. You might catch a cold." Aman looked down at his shirt, the fabric clinging to his muscular chest, outlining his abs. He nodded, and without breaking eye contact, I reached for the hem of my own towel.

In one swift motion, I let it drop to the floor, revealing my bare back to him. His gaze was riveted, and I felt a thrill of power as I bent over slightly to pick it up again, giving him a clear view of my nakedness. I wrapped it around my body, tucking it in securely before sitting down in the chair across from him, my legs crossed. "Why don't you take off your shirt?" I suggested, my smile a silent invitation.

He didn't need to be told twice. With trembling hands, he pulled the wet fabric over his head, revealing a chest that was every bit as defined as I had imagined. His eyes never left mine as he sat down, the muscles in his abs rippling with every breath he took. "I do go to the gym," he said, his voice thick with desire. "But I've never had a reason to show it off like this."

"Do you have a girlfriend?" I asked him, my eyes flicking down to the bulge in his pants. He shifted uncomfortably, the fabric tenting obscenely. "Yah she is going to a medical College in another city," he replied, his voice gruff. "Is she good looking?" I teased, taking a sip of tea, my eyes never leaving his crotch.

Aman's cheeks flushed, and he looked away, trying to compose himself. "Yes, she is," he murmured, his gaze sliding back to my barely covered breasts. "Is she prettier than me? " I asked, moving closer to him, my breath warm on his neck.

I reached out, my hand brushing against the bulge in his pants, and I felt him jolt at my touch. "Ahh ! No mam she is normal, she only had a pretty face with A cup boobs," he said, trying to maintain his composure. I chuckled softly, my hand lingering on his thigh. "Do you perhaps like bigger boobs?" I whispered, my eyes locked with his.

With a tremble in his voice, Aman nodded. I could feel the heat of his cock through the fabric, and I knew that the dam was about to burst. I slid off the chair and knelt before him, my eyes never leaving his face. He watched me with a mix of shock and desire as I reached for the zipper of his wet pants, slowly pulling it down. "You can touch mine if you want," I whispered, my hand hovering over his erection.

He swallowed hard, his hand moving to cover mine. He paused for a moment, as if asking for permission, and when I didn't pull away, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His hand was shaking as he wrapped his fingers around my breast over the towel, the warmth of his palm sending waves of pleasure through my body. I moaned softly, leaning into his touch.

With a gentle tug, the towel loosened, and my breast spilled into his hand. His eyes shot open, and he stared at the flesh in his grasp as if he couldn't believe his luck. The sight of his hand on my bare skin was intoxicating, and I felt a rush of wetness between my legs. "It's okay," I murmured, my voice thick with desire. "You can do more."

Encouraged by my words, Aman's other hand joined the first, both now cupping and kneading my breasts. His thumbs found my nipples, and I gasped as he began to roll them between his fingers. The sensation was exquisite, a symphony of pleasure that had me arching my back and pushing my chest into his palms. His eyes were locked on mine, searching for any sign of hesitation, but all he found was a desperate need mirrored in my gaze.

Emboldened, I took the next step. With a swift tug, I pulled his cock out of his underwear, and it sprang free, thick and proud. It was a while since I had seen a man's cock in person, and I couldn't help but stare in wonder at the velvety skin, the bead of precum glistening at the tip. The scent of his arousal filled the room, mingling with the faint aroma of rain and fabric softener from the towel.

"I thought I need to blow it off but looks like it is ready to blow," I said with a smirk. Aman's eyes went wide, and he swallowed hard. "Are you ready for my hole?" I asked him as I slid off the chair and onto my knees in front of him, my hand still wrapped around his cock.

The room was filled with the sound of our ragged breaths and the occasional crack of thunder from the storm outside. The rain had stopped, but the thunder continued to echo through the quiet house, punctuating the tension that was building between us.

"Oh man I am so wet. Do you feel it?" I pulled his hand to my most private part and let him feel the wetness. He nodded in amazement, his eyes widening with lust. I took his other hand and placed it on my ass. "Hold on to me tight," I whispered, my voice thick with desire.

Aman didn't need any more prompting. He pulled me closer, his hands gripping my waist tightly as I positioned myself over him. His cock was hot and heavy, the tip nudging at my entrance. I took a deep breath and pushed down, feeling him fill me inch by inch. The sensation was overwhelming, "Mm you are thick," I gasped, my voice shaky with anticipation.

His pre-cum mixed with my own wetness, making the entry smoother than I had expected. His eyes never left mine as he watched me impale myself on his length, the look of wonder on his face only adding to my arousal. When I had taken him fully, I paused for a moment, savoring the feeling of being stretched open, filled to the brim. "I've never felt anything like this before," I murmured, my voice a mix of awe and lust.

Aman's grip on my hips tightened, his hands urging me to move. And move I did, rising and falling in a rhythm that was both frantic and sweet. His cock was thick, a delicious pressure that sent waves of pleasure crashing through me with every stroke. I had forgotten the feel of a man inside me, the way their warmth and power could make me feel so alive.

Our movements grew more erratic, the sound of our skin slapping together a steady beat that matched the thunder outside. The rain had picked up again, and the lightning flashed through the windows, illuminating the room in stark, electric bursts of light. Each flash painted Aman's face in stark relief, a portrait of pure desire and need.

I leaned back, my hands on his thighs for balance, and felt him hit deeper inside me, the tip of his cock grazing my G-spot with every thrust. A moan built in my chest, my walls contracting around him as I approached climax. "Harder," I gasped, my nails digging into his flesh. "I want to feel all of you."

He responded with a feral growl, his hands moving from my hips to my ass, lifting me and slamming me down onto his cock with a force that made me cry out. The pain was a sweet agony, the kind that made the pleasure more intense. My orgasm was building, a crescendo of sensation that had me seeing stars.

And then, with a final, desperate thrust, it crashed over me. My body convulsed, my pussy clamping down on him as I screamed his name. The pleasure was so intense that I thought I might pass out, my vision swimming with white-hot sparks. Aman's eyes never left mine, his own release chasing mine, his hips bucking up to meet me as I rode out the storm of sensation.

He groaned, his cock pulsing inside me as he came, filling me with his hot seed. The feeling of his orgasm sent me hurtling over the edge again, and I came a second time, my body shaking with the force of it. We stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, our breaths mingling as we both tried to come back to reality.

Finally, with a gasp, Aman pulled out of me, and I felt the warmth of his release trickle down my thighs. He looked at me with a mix of awe and disbelief, as if he couldn't quite believe what had just happened. "Sorry sorry, i couldn't pull out," he stuttered, his cheeks flushing a dark shade of red. I just smiled, feeling a sense of power that I had never experienced before.

I stood up, my legs shaky, "Don't worry it's my safe day," I assured him with a wink, my heart still racing from the intense encounter. Aman looked at me in amazement, his chest heaving from exertion. The silence was broken by the sudden ring of his phone, jolting us both out of our post-coital daze.

He picked it up, his eyes widening as he listened to the voice on the other end. "Shit," he murmured, his face falling. "They need me to make another delivery."

With a sigh, he pulled on his shirt and tucked his half-erect cock back into his pants. "I have to go," he said, regret lacing his voice. "But before I do, can I touch your boobs for the last time." I nodded, and he leaned in, cupping my breasts once more before planting a gentle kiss on each one. It was a sweet, almost tender gesture that made my heart ache with a strange mix of emotions.

As he pulled away, I watched him slip into his still-damp shoes and grab his delivery bag. He paused at the door, looking back at me one last time. "Thank you," he murmured. "For everything." I couldn't find the words to reply, so I just nodded, the memory of his touch still a living thing between us.

The door closed behind him, and the house felt eerily quiet, the only sound the fading patter of rain. I slumped back into the chair, my body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. The towel had fallen away from my chest, and my breasts felt heavy and sensitive, the nipples tight from his ministrations.

That night, I slept like a baby, no dream, fully satisfied. The warmth of my husband's side of the bed was comforting, even though he was not there. I was lost in a world of pleasure and contentment that I had never experienced before. The rain had washed away the tension of the day, leaving the air clean and fresh, perfect for a deep slumber.

The following morning, the sun peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. I stretched languidly, feeling a twinge of satisfaction in every muscle. Shurendran's father, Mr. Pattnaik, had arrived home alone. He told me that my mother-in-law had decided to stay at their village house away from noisy city, leaving him to keep me company until Shurendran could join me. His presence was comforting, a steady rock in the tumultuous sea of my emotions.

Mr. Pattnaik was a fit man in his fifties, with a kind smile and a gentle touch. His eyes held a wisdom that seemed to see straight through me, yet he never judged or questioned my actions. In evening, after dinner, he would in his bed and I would massage his feet with warm oil, a ritual that had been a part of their family for generations.