Marriage with His Uncle!

Passion

My hands clutched his shirt, my nails digging into his back as he thrust into me with a raw, savage force. The risk was insane, but the rush was even more so, a potent mix of fear and ecstasy. I wanted to scream, to cry out, to moan his name, but I couldn't. I had to stay silent, had to keep the secret of our shameful union hidden. And then, just as I was on the verge of breaking, of giving in to the overwhelming pleasure, I heard Nash turn the corner.

But Luther was faster. Just as Nash rounded the corner, Luther scooped me up and carried me to a room nearby that the maids often used to relax and gossip. It was a huge risk—the door was right across the hallway from the living room, and one could see half of it from where Nash was standing. But he took the risk, carrying me in and slamming the door shut behind us so hard that it rattled in its frame. As he carried me, I managed a quick glance back into the living room, and I saw Nash, completely oblivious, his back to us as he searched for his mother. The moment was gone, the danger averted, but the thrill of it lingered, a silent secret between us.

Just as the door slammed shut, Nash turned, but he was too late. Before he could catch a glimpse of us, the door was already closed. The sound of it rattling in its frame muffled his footsteps. The relief was short-lived, quickly replaced by a new, more intense kind of heat. My mind emptied of everything but the situation at hand: taking what Luther was so expertly giving me.

"Nash is right outside the door," Luther grunted, his voice thick with a mixture of warning and raw desire. He looked at me, his body tense, his gaze burning into mine. "Do you want to stop?"

He did absolutely nothing to stop. Instead, he picked up his pace, his movements growing faster, harder, and more insistent. I clung to him, my legs clenching around his waist even tighter as a gasp-turned-moan tore from my throat. "Don't stop," I begged, the words muffled against his lips. A wicked smile spread across his face, and he bit me playfully, a silent acknowledgment of my plea, as he drilled his c**k into me, his hips slamming into mine with a savage rhythm that promised to drive me to oblivion.

"I'm close. I'm about to c*m," I announced, my voice a ragged whisper against his ear. Luther's only response was a low grunt, a feral sound that was all the encouragement I needed. He gave me a few more deep, hard thrusts that made me see stars, and just as I felt myself teetering on the edge, I heard Nash's voice from the hallway outside. "There you are, Mom. I have something to discuss with you."

Hearing my fiancé's voice while his uncle was jackhammering my p***y was all it took. It was a potent cocktail of fear, guilt, and a forbidden thrill that sent me flying over the edge. I grabbed Luther desperately, my hands clutching his shoulders as my body fell apart around him. I buried my face in his shoulder, muffling a cry as my orgasm washed over me, a tidal wave of pleasure and shame.

Luther pounded into me a few more times, his body tense and rigid. A low, primal groan rumbled in his chest, and then he slammed his d**k balls-deep into me one last time, his release a hot, thick jolt that made my body spasm against his. My legs gave out, and I would have slid to the floor if he hadn't been holding me so tightly.

We both stood there, breathing heavily, our bodies flushed with the aftermath of our forbidden tryst. The high was intoxicating, and we rode it together in the small, dark room, the sound of my future mother-in-law and husband's chattering voices filtering in through the door.

There was no shame, no guilt, no regret. Maybe those feelings would hit us later, but in that moment, all we felt was the electrifying thrill of forbidden pleasure.

My ears were buzzing, the sound of my own pulse a drumbeat in my head. A wild, reckless thought crossed my mind: I wanted to storm out of the room, Luther’s c*m dripping down my leg, and rub it in Nash’s face that I slept with his enemy. The thought was as brief as it was exhilarating, a flash of vengeful triumph, but it died as quickly as it came. I was not that person, not yet. This was a game of subtlety, not of public humiliation. It was a private victory, a secret weapon in a war only I knew I was fighting.

Before I could even catch my breath, Luther was hard again. My eyes widened in shock, but a thrill of pure excitement coursed through me. We looked at each other, a silent acknowledgment passing between us: we both wanted a second round. Without a word, Luther quickly locked the door, a low, solid click that sealed us off from the rest of the world. Then, he took a step back and gently scooped me up, carrying me to a large wooden table in the center of the room. He laid me on top of it, the cold surface a sharp contrast to the burning heat of my body.

Our lips met once more, and the kiss was just as feral and desperate as the first. Our passion was off the charts, fueled by the knowledge that this moment was fleeting. We wanted to indulge in this forbidden pleasure, to push the boundaries of what was acceptable before regret consumes us. We wanted to f**k to our hearts' content, with no shame before this moment ends.

"Your p***y feels so good wrapped around me," Luther moaned, his words a rough whisper against my ear. He pulled back from the kiss, his hips moving with a deliberate slowness that drove me wild. He pulled his c**k out until only the tip remained, and then he slammed back in with a groan. "So f*****g good, I could pound you all day."

He continued that rhythm, pulling out slowly and slamming back in, each movement a masterpiece of torture and pleasure. My cunt clenched around him every time he pulled out, a silent plea for him to stay inside. And every time he slammed back in, my p***y welcomed him with a warm, desperate embrace, a rhythm of give and take that was driving me to the brink of insanity.

It felt so insanely good that we both looked down at the same time, our eyes wide with a mixture of shock and arousal. We watched, mesmerized, as his c**k slowly pulled out of me, the tip barely leaving my sensitive folds, and then slammed back in with a wet, visceral sound. The sight itself was so hot, so forbidden, so utterly sensual that I almost came on the spot, my body shaking with a pleasure that was too intense to contain.

“Oh, f**k,” we both moaned together, the words a rough, shared whisper as we watched his c**k pistoning in and out of me. “f**k, baby, you feel so good,” Luther whimpered, his voice strained with a pleasure that mirrored my own. And with that, he picked up his pace again. If he was f*****g me hard before, he was absolutely slaughtering my p***y right now. The rhythmic thrusts were so intense, so all-consuming that I was lost in a sea of pure sensation.

~•~