As Betty’s hips descended toward Michael’s eager erection, he steadied his cock with one hand, thrusting his hips forward.
The tip of his cock, as large as an egg, pressed against the entrance of Betty’s vagina, parting her labia instantly.
Lubricated by Betty’s abundant secretions and the smooth condom, there was no resistance as Michael’s cock slid halfway in with a single thrust.
Betty, already driven wild by Michael’s earlier teasing, felt her deep, unspoken desires violently fulfilled as she was filled completely.
The moment was fleeting.
Betty’s descent was slow, but her hips were in motion, and Michael’s cock, remaining stationary, accurately found its mark.
This required not only preparation and judgment but also a bit of luck.
It was like a shooting competition where the target is moving, not stationary, adding to the challenge.
Yet, Michael achieved it with perfect accuracy.
"You... ah... you... ah... you... ah..." Betty moaned as Michael thrust again, this time with more force, driving the rest of his cock deep inside her.
Now, only his testicles and the large testes were left visible outside, as his entire length was fully sheathed within Betty’s vagina.
With each penetration, Betty’s vagina seemed to clasp tighter around Michael’s thick cock, showing no signs of resistance.
Though it was only their third encounter, her vagina had already surrendered, betraying its initial reluctance and now passionately entwined with the familiar presence, feeling an overwhelming sense of intimacy and connection.
Once Michael was fully inside, he didn’t pause but started to thrust vigorously.
The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room.
The lubrication from Betty’s vagina combined with the condom made their friction smooth and seamless.
As soon as Michael penetrated her, Betty realized what was happening.
She opened her eyes and tried to speak, to refuse, but could only utter "You" before her words were drowned out by her own moans.
Everything happened so quickly, Betty had no time to react, and she certainly hadn’t expected Michael to break his promise that night.
Betty tried to speak again after moaning a few times, but Michael’s relentless thrusting cut her off once more.
Eventually, Betty gave up on speaking; her mouth emitted only sticky moans.
Betty didn’t lack the desire to resist; it’s just that her arms fell weakly after she raised them.
Michael’s earlier attentions to her anus and vagina had left her entire body weak.
Now, with Michael’s frenzied thrusting, her body shook uncontrollably with each movement.
She felt like a small boat tossed by stormy seas, at risk of capsizing at any moment.
All she could do was try to maintain her balance and breathing.
After a dozen back-and-forth thrusts from Michael, Betty gave up struggling and speaking.
Her senses were completely overwhelmed by sexual pleasure, pushing aside thoughts of love, marriage, family, and societal taboos.
All she wanted was to revel in the pleasure of the moment.
With his penis inside Betty, Michael’s hands, previously steadying his shaft, now pressed down on Betty’s legs.
His athletic stamina from being a sports student shone as he moved his hips powerfully and tirelessly.
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Watching Michael’s rapid, thrusting movements, one could only describe it as a vigorous display of stamina.
Betty’s legs were positioned in an ’M’ shape by Michael, allowing her hips to be fully exposed and unobstructed for their intense coupling.
Their pelvises collided rapidly, and the copious lubrication from their intercourse was squeezed out, wetting their pubic hair and the bed sheets below.
All this lubrication was from Betty, as the condom blocked any fluids from Michael.
Betty’s fluids, carried out by Michael’s penis, splashed around as his testicles swung.
Her thighs, lower abdomen, and Michael’s arms, which were pressing down on her legs, were all splattered with her secretions.
Despite the barrier of the condom, which admittedly blocked some sensation, the warmth and tightness of Betty’s vagina far surpassed the pleasure of masturbation or any friction from Betty’s labia.
Michael relentlessly thrust into Betty, maintaining a furious pace without any pause.
He kept his position, kneeling between Betty’s legs, perhaps fearing that any stop or change might snap Betty out of her haze or allow her to break free.
This continuous, unyielding rhythm was meant to keep Betty submerged in her desires, ensuring a flawless execution.
As I sat on the bed watching this scene on video, I constantly reminded myself that it was all in the past, beyond my control, and only now coming to my knowledge.
Even though this was the third time I had watched it, and despite the presence of a condom which should have made it somewhat less intense, my emotions remained raw.
My hands trembled as I picked up a cigarette and struggled several times to light it with a shaky hand.
Taking a deep drag, I inhaled all the smoke my lungs could hold, then exhaled slowly.
The nicotine hit quickly, sending a wave of numbness through my body that momentarily eased my tension.
The moans, the sounds of their bodies colliding, and the heavy breathing continued to flood my ears, relentlessly stimulating my brain.
I had always believed that unprotected sex wasn’t truly making love.
Now, even though Betty and Michael were technically following my old rule by using a condom, why did my heart still hurt so much?
Who should I blame this time?
Betty?
From an observer’s perspective, as a husband who’s often absent, it’s understandable that a woman’s pent-up sexual desires could make her susceptible to another’s advances.
Betty did resist initially, but Michael’s intensity and her own physical weakness made it impossible for her to escape.
I kept making excuses for Betty in my mind.
Was I deceiving myself, or did I genuinely not want to lose her?
Perhaps I wasn’t ready to give up on our home and my beloved wife just yet.
What I might see in the videos over the coming days, I couldn’t be sure.
My curiosity was piqued, but my fear was greater.
If I watched all the videos before returning home, and if I saw what I most dreaded, could I still go back to that house?
Thinking back to last night when I secretly returned home and saw Betty sleeping deeply in our bed, freshly showered with the scent of soap still on her and her hair damp, and the lingering smell of male hormones in the bathroom...
I couldn’t bear to think that just before I arrived, something might have happened in that bathroom.
The video of their forbidden encounter continued to play...