The sight of his parents' passion was an awakening for Jack, his eyes drinking in the contours of Elena's body, the way she moved, the soft sounds she made. He felt his own body respond, his cock thickening in his pants, and he realized with a jolt of guilt and arousal that the feeling was not unlike what he experienced when he thought of the village girls he had stolen glances at. The realization sent a hot, prickling heat through him, and he had to bite his lip to stifle a moan.
In that moment, Jack's mind raced with a desire so potent and primal that it scared him. He wanted nothing more than to be the one causing those sounds of pleasure, to replace his father in that sacred embrace. The thought was as shocking as it was tantalizing, and he knew it was a desire that could never be voiced. Yet, as he watched Charles's hand slide down Elena's body, tracing the curve of her waist before delving lower, Jack couldn't help but imagine his own hand in its place, feeling the softness of her skin, the heat of her desire.
The sight of his mother's legs opening, invitingly, was like the blooming of a flower before his eyes. He had caught glimpses before, but nothing so brazenly intimate. Her vagina was a secret garden, hidden from his view, and yet here it was, exposed in the moonlit room, glistening with the evidence of her passion.
The folds looked so delicate. His thoughts grew feverish, his body responding to the sight with an ache that was both uncomfortable and exhilarating.
Jack's eyes widened even further when he saw his father's cock, engorged with desire, nudging against Elena's entrance. The way it moved, with a confidence and authority that was both terrifying and fascinating, was unlike anything he had ever seen. It was as if his father's manhood was speaking a language that only the two of them understood, a silent declaration of love and need that transcended words. He watched, his breath hitching in his throat, as Charles positioned himself, his hips moving with the slow, deliberate grace of a stalking cat.
The moment of penetration was a revelation, a silent thunderclap that seemed to resonate through Jack's very soul. The sight of his mother's body stretching to accommodate his father's, the way her eyes fluttered closed in ecstasy, was a vision that both thrilled and repulsed him. Her moan, low and sexy, sent a shiver down his spine, and his own body responded in a way that was as confusing as it was arousing. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, a rhythm as ancient as the house that held their secrets.
Jack's hand drifted to his own crotch, his curiosity growing more insistent as he watched his mother's face contort with pleasure. His fingertips traced the outline of his erection, feeling the heat and the power that was building within him. The image of his cock joining their intimate dance was like a call, luring him into waters he knew he shouldn't swim.
His breath grew ragged as he imagined himself in his father's place, plunging into the depths of Elena's welcoming warmth. The tightness of her pussy around Charles' shaft was something he could almost feel, his imagination painting a vivid picture of what it would be like to claim her for himself.
The room was a symphony of shadows and light, the moon's silvery beams playing across the sweat-slicked bodies of his parents. Elena's breasts bounced with each of Charles' powerful thrusts, her nipples as hard and dark as the berries that grew wild in the forest. Jack's hand began to move in time with the rhythm of their lovemaking, his own hips jerking in silent response.
His guilt grew like a tumor, gnawing at the edges of his arousal, but it was a feeling he couldn't shake. The line between love and lust had been blurred, and he found himself wading through the murky waters of a taboo desire.
Their cries grew louder, the sounds of their passion echoing through the hallway. The house, a silent witness to countless nights of marital bliss, seemed to hold its breath, the very walls pulsing with the energy of their union. Jack's hand moved faster, his eyes glued to the erotic performance before him, his own hips bucking in time with his father's. He could feel the tension coiling within him, a serpent poised to strike, and he knew that he was close to his own release.
As their lovemaking neared, Jack's eyes remained transfixed on the spot where his father's cock vanished into his mother's welcoming warmth. He watched as Charles's muscles tensed, his face contorting with a mix of pleasure and effort. With a final, guttural groan, he felt his own climax approaching, his heart hammering against his ribs like a desperate prisoner begging for release. And then it came, a hot, white-hot surge that shot through him like a bolt of lightning, leaving him gasping and trembling, his vision swimming with the intensity of the moment.