𝐀 𝐇𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | [𝟏𝟖+]

𝟑𝟗 | 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭.

Gold on your fingertips
Fingertips against my cheek
Gold leaf across your lips
Kiss me until I can't speak

"Oh... Rev," I moaned, feeling the cool tiles against my sweaty palm as my husband vigorously ramped inside me from behind. The sound of our skin slapping echoed in the washroom, intermingling with the intoxicating scent of sex.

My tears cascaded down, my hair tousled, and the room seemed to spin as my senses heightened with each of his frantic thrusts. "Fuck, you feel so good, baby," Revansh cursed, his words blending with my heavy breath.

I could feel my walls clenching around his hard cock, sending waves of pleasure through me. "I-I am coming," I managed to mumble, but before I could fully surrender to the climax, Revansh's hand left my nape and his fingers skimmed to my waist, pulling me closer to him.

My back pressed against his front, his other hand finding my tits, squeezing it as he continued to hit the very right spots that made me see stars. After a few more minutes of feverish pounding, he commanded, "Come," and with a sharp shriek, I surrendered, feeling the release coating his cock while he climaxed inside the condom for the seventh time.

Exhaustion washed over me, and my head fell back onto his shoulder, the weight of the intense sex session taking its toll. As he gently kissed my cheek and pulled his cock out, a sharp pain shot through me, a stark reminder of the emptiness that now filled my pussy.

Revansh swiftly tossed the used condom into the dustbin, the crinkling sound of the plastic echoing in my ears. The faint scent of latex lingered in the air, mingling with the musky aroma of our heated bodies. The weight of his hand, which had held me tightly for what felt like an eternity, pressed against my waist.

With a determined stride, his other hand reached for another packet from the washroom counter, the crinkle of the foil punctuating the anticipation that hung thick. As the realization of his intentions settled in, my heart raced, its rapid thumping filling my ears.

"Rev, not more. I am tired," I mustered, my voice an exhausted whisper that barely escaped my lips. It wasn't the first time I had voiced my tiredness, having done so after our fifth and sixth rounds, but my pleas had fallen on deaf ears. Yet, as I spoke this time, the weight of his touch on my waist softened, his fingers tenderly caressing my skin, a gesture that offered relief as he mumbled, "Okay."