Betty leaned her entire body, including her head, against the wall.
As she did, Michael pulled back slightly, his eyes reopening to lock onto Betty’s.
Her eyes, initially shut tight from shock, slowly opened to meet Michael’s intense and clear gaze.
It seemed Michael had regained his composure, his eyes lucid and aware.
In the moments he had rested his head on Betty’s shoulder, he had sorted through his thoughts—past and present.
His departure had been brief, and with just a little prompting from Betty, he had snapped back to reality.
However, this newfound clarity made him even more ’dangerous,’ as it reverted him back to the beast who had once preyed upon his own mother.
Betty, seeing the change in his eyes, understood this all too well.
Yet, she wasn’t frightened; instead, she felt a surge of joy—Michael’s recovery was a blessing in disguise.
Betty and Michael continued to gaze into each other’s eyes, each trying to discern the other’s intentions from their stare.
As the moments passed, a mutual tension emerged in their expressions.
Michael feared Betty might disagree and escalate the situation; Betty feared another forceful advance, which had left a dark imprint on her from their first encounter.
Despite her body’s sensitivity, she detested the feeling of being coerced by Michael.
As time ticked by, Betty was uncertain of Michael’s true mental state.
As an observer, I believed Michael was back to normal, but Betty, clouded by her emotions, struggled to make her usual sharp judgments.
Eventually, Betty seemed unwilling to maintain eye contact, perhaps resigned to whatever might come next, knowing she would sacrifice anything for Michael.
Finally, Betty was the first to break their gaze.
She closed her eyes, transforming into a figurative Sleeping Beauty, her naked body at the mercy of any man who faced her.
No matter how she was enjoyed, she remained ’asleep,’ unresisting.
Betty’s closed eyes were a clearer signal than any words could provide.
The newly recovered Michael did not show joy but remained indifferent and detached.
Just as a tense Betty was about to exhale, her lips were sealed—not by something, but by Michael’s own lips.
Michael kissed Betty passionately, his hands finding their way back to her breasts.
Meanwhile, his penis, trapped between Betty’s legs, began a tentative thrusting motion—slow and minimal, as if gauging Betty’s intentions and boundaries.
As seconds turned into minutes, Betty showed no sign of refusal.
Though passive, she allowed Michael to do as he pleased.
Sensing her acquiescence, Michael freed one hand from caressing her breast and let it wander slowly downward...
As Michael’s hand glided across Betty’s lower abdomen, reaching the soft brush of her pubic hair, he was moments away from touching her labia when Betty’s eyes snapped open, her hand darting down to seize Michael’s advancing hand.
Michael didn’t force the issue; realizing his hand was caught, he stopped and kissed Betty, locking eyes with her as they lay frozen, even forgetting to continue the kiss.
After a moment, Betty exhaled sharply through her nose, her lips sealed by Michael’s, leaving her no choice but to breathe through her nostrils.
Had her lips been free, a sigh would surely have escaped them.
The standoff was brief; eventually, Betty slowly closed her eyes, resembling someone peacefully succumbing to eternal rest, though what she surrendered was not her life but her soul, her vows of love, and her fidelity to romance.
As her eyes shut, Betty also released Michael’s hand.
Free from restraint and perhaps fearing her change of heart, Michael’s hand swiftly moved downward...
A soft nasal moan from Betty accompanied his fingers as they touched her labia, his index finger gently sliding between her folds.
When Michael’s finger first made contact, it was already slick with her arousal, her vagina autonomously secreting fluids in anticipation of penetration.
Michael’s penis, trapped between Betty’s thighs, moved subtly, stimulating her further with both his shaft and finger.
The fire of desire slowly built between them, their lips locked tightly without a gap.
Their heavy breathing mingled, heating their flushed faces as they embraced tighter.
Initially, Michael was the aggressor in their kissing, but gradually, Betty took a more active role, their gentle pecks evolving into a passionate French kiss and finally a fervent make-out session, pushing their arousal to its peak.
The joy of reunion and recovery transformed into a wellspring of sexual energy.
At this moment, they had forgotten their identities, their differences in age, ethics, marriage vows, and promises—all cast aside for the pursuit of carnal desire.
Regardless of the world ending or falling apart, nothing mattered to them now but their sexual craving for each other.
Every consequence would be faced only after their mutual and exhaustive fulfillment.
Michael kissed Betty passionately, one hand kneading her breast while the other teased her labia, his penis thrusting between her thighs.
As their arousal peaked, Michael sensed the timing was right and swiftly withdrew his penis.
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Now free between Betty’s legs, it stood fully erect, its veins swollen like earthworms wrapped around it, the head glossy and slick with their combined fluids.
The foreskin had retracted completely, revealing the shiny, bulbous head and the veined shaft, along with the dark, hairy scrotum hanging below, forming what could only be described as a formidable weapon of masculinity.
This powerful display seemed to taunt me, the husband, through an unseen lens.
Despite my inner protest, comparing its size to my own, I had to admit defeat; some things are simply given by nature without choice.
As I wallowed in my insecurity, Michael shifted his actions.
He released Betty’s breast and moved his hand up to her shoulder, half-embracing her, while his other hand, previously caressing her labia, reached down to lift one of Betty’s legs by the thigh.
Michael’s hunger had vanished, replaced by sheer lust.
To him, Betty was the ultimate feast.
With her leg lifted by Michael, Betty was left standing on one leg, kissing him blindly, unaware of his next move.
When her leg was first lifted, she staggered but was quickly stabilized by Michael’s firm embrace.
With Betty in this precarious position, her most intimate area was fully exposed.
The distance between her entrance and Michael’s head was minimal.
Seeing this, I knew what was about to happen, and I couldn’t bear to watch any longer.
The pain was too much, especially knowing that Betty was about to willingly accept him, unprotected.
I feared I might pass out from the heartache.