47. Wife's POV [Part 1]

NOTE: This fictional story features only adult characters (18+) and portrays consensual interactions throughout.



Originally, I planned to release this as Part 2 of Chapter 46, but I had to make a few changes to align with the guidelines. Honestly, I sm glad as it turned out for the best, these edits made the chapter even better and a bit longer. So, this will officially be Chapter 47, rather than a continuation of 46 from the wife’s POV.




He kept his hand firm, making me do all the work. Every little thrust sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through me, dragging me closer to the edge, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop.

I was completely gone in it, lost in the rhythm of my own desperate movements, my ass bouncing, my body chasing the high that was about to tear through me.

Every time my ass sank down, I could hear the faint, wet filthy squelch of his fingers sliding inside me, the kind of lewd, sticky sound that left no doubt how drenched I was. It echoed in my ears, each slippery noise making me clench tighter around him.

I did froze at the thought that it might carry across the room, but when I glanced down, my husband was still busy, his eyes fixed on the book, too focused to hear the faint, obscene sounds her wife's cunt was making. That only made it worse—made me grind harder—because I could hear what he couldn’t, every dirty squish reminding me of my wrong betrayal.

But then, suddenly, I couldn’t feel his fingers anymore. For a second, I thought he had just slipped lower, so I moved my ass even lower, searching for them, needing them back inside me at any cost. My cunt was aching, open and leaking, begging to be filled again.

I crouched there pathetically on the floor, spread and needy, grinding down against nothing. It didn’t even occur to me that he had pulled his hand away. My brain couldn’t put it together. I just wanted him back inside me.

The way I must have looked, sitting there with my ass bouncing in the air and my pussy gaping, trying to catch something that wasn’t there, it was shameful, disgusting, and yet I couldn’t stop myself.

He was definitely holding back his laughter at my poor ass situation. He had purposefully moved his hand away, waiting for my reaction, and I showed him exactly what he wanted, how desperate I was, like a hungry pet.

I noticed my husband stretching his arm, returning the book to the old man with a polite smile. My lips pressed together in a small frown.
Was that it? Was it really over?

No. Not yet.

It couldn’t end here, not when I was so close, not when I was seconds away from falling apart.

A dull ache spread through me as the heat refused to die down, pulsing and twitching inside me. It felt cruel, like I had been denied something I needed more than air.

Hesitantly I pulled my skirt back into place, covering myself, forcing the fabric over my throbbing ass that pulsed with every beat of my heart.

My husband moved ahead, stepping out of the dim room, leaving me trailing behind. Just as I was about to exit, my hand reached for the door, but it stopped from opening completely, just enough for my fingers to slip through the narrow gap.

“Wait!” I shoved one arm through. “It's stuck,” I hissed, trying to force the door open.

From behind me, the old man’s voice followed. “It seems… the door’s acting up again. What luck! Guess we will be spending some more time here.”

A sudden, heavy and invisible pressure pressed against my womb, sharp and consuming, threatening to fold me onto my knees. My insides tightened, my body instinctively reacting. Every inch of me betrayed how ready I was, trembling in a mix of fear, anticipation, and a dirty thrill.

Before I could brace myself, the old man shoved his face right into my ass. The sudden impact caught me completely off guard, my breath caught in my throat. W-wait… I tried to press my arm down against his head, to stop him, but he was in no mood to listen.

He pushed my arm aside, lifting my skirt up high and started spreading my ass wide with both his hands, exposing both of my dirty holes.

My panties were already tugged aside from earlier, leaving me completely vulnerable. He didn’t waste a second. His tongue shoved in deep, hot and wet, making my whole body jolt. A choked gasp slipped past my lips as the sensation shot through me, sharp and obscene.

Slurping sounds filled the small room, wet and faint but loud enough that I could hear every filthy slurp of his tongue inside me.

My knees shook. My hand gripped the edge of the door desperately, clinging to it for balance, while my other hand flew up to cover my mouth. I bit down on my knuckles, fighting back the moans that threatened to spill out. My head spun, my thoughts crumbling away as his tongue worked deeper, circling and pressing in ways that left me trembling, drifting into a trance of shame and ecstasy

The old man growled loudly, after my husband pushed the door hard enough to break our concentration. Thr old man's tone was a little annoyed, and rightly so. It wasn’t nice to disturb someone when they were enjoying themselves, and right now he was enjoying me, and I was enjoying his tongue.

“Give it a little pressure… steady… we’ll take care of this side,” he instructed.

But my dirty mind already knew the intention behind those words. He was guiding him and also ordering me. He wanted me to press down, to grind my soaked cunt over his mouth like an animal in heat.

My hands trembled against the door as I lowered myself, obeying him. My cunt touched his already still tongue. He just held it out, flat and waiting, making me do all the work.

He remained still. He just let me ride, groaning deep in his throat, while I worked myself harder and harder, like a pet desperately seeking release. I was ashamed, but my cunt was on fire, and once I started, I couldn’t stop.

He growled again, not with annoyance this time, but with satisfaction. His voice carried to both sides of the door. “Yeah… that’s it… little push here, little pull there… don’t rush it.”

A pitiful whimper escaped me as I pathetically nodded at his words. He was controlling my pace with nothing but his words. I kept rocking, dragging myself along his wet tongue as per his command.

Each grind made my clit spark, my thighs shaking, but it was the humiliation that tore me apart inside—the realization that I was rubbing myself raw on an old man’s mouth while my husband stood right outside the door, trying to help me get out of the room, was too much for me to handle.

Godddd.

A muffled cry tore from my throat as I came, gushing all over the old man's face, my legs shaking like leaves in the wind. My eyes rolled back, dazed and cloudy, my lips pressing against the wood of the door as I struggled to breathe. My chest heaved, and every frantic gasp fogged the surface in front of me.

“Are you sitting on the floor?” my husband’s voice called, faint through the wood.

The old man didn’t answer. Instead, he rose in one swift motion, his grip tangling harshly in my hair. The sudden pain ripped me out of my trance, my head pulled back until my throat arched.

He leaned in close to my ear, his lips touching the skin, and threw a single command—‘Reply.’

The word alone made my stomach twist. He was ordering... me to lie to my husband, to speak on his behalf as if nothing was happening.

My scalp burned under his grip, my body still shuddering from release, and yet I couldn’t fight it. I was going to comply. I was going to lie for him while my husband stood unaware on the other side of the door.

I whimpered, trembling in his hold, the shame and thrill twisting in my belly.

So ̶p̶a̶t̶h̶e̶t̶i̶̶̶̶- No, so amazing❤… I opened my lips helplessly to do exactly as I was told, words falling out in broken bursts, stammered and breathless.

“H-he’s… uh… trying to… m-move it… from the bottom…” I gasped, struggling to keep my voice steady, though every syllable was soaked in the tremor of submission.

He turned me roughly to face him, a disgustingly triumphant smile crawling across his face. I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes, so I turned my face sideways, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.