Sirre's eyes flash with an intensity I've never seen before, a wild, almost feral look that sends a shiver down my spine. She takes off her clothes in a cute little dance. Her lips curve into a predatory smile as she slowly crawls up my body, her movements fluid and graceful like a panther stalking its prey.
"I haven't gotten mine yet, dear husband," she purrs, her voice low and husky. There's an edge to her tone, a hint of madness that both thrills and terrifies me.
Before I can respond, Sirre positions herself above my face, her thighs on either side of my head. The scent of her arousal is intoxicating. My mouth waters in anticipation.
With a soft moan, Sirre lowers herself onto my face, her wet pussy enveloping my mouth. I waste no time, my tongue darting out to taste her.
As I begin to lick and suck at her most sensitive areas, Sirre throws her head back, a low, guttural moan escaping her lips. Her hips begin to rock against my face, seeking more friction. The motion, combined with the erotic sounds she's making, sends a jolt of electricity straight to my groin. I feel myself hardening again.
My hands move of their own accord, sliding up Sirre's sides to cup her full breasts. They feel heavy and plump in my palms. I knead the soft flesh, my fingers working in tandem with my tongue as I pleasure her.
Sirre's moans grow louder, more frantic. Her thighs tremble on either side of my head, her fingers tangling in my hair as she grinds herself against my mouth. There's an urgency to her movements, a desperate need that drives her on.
I redouble my efforts, my tongue circling her clit before dipping lower to tease her entrance.
"Yes, yes," Sirre gasps, her voice breathy and strained. "Just like that, don't stop!"
Suddenly, Sirre's body goes rigid above me, her thighs ratcheting down around my head as she reaches her climax. A flood of her juices coats my tongue and chin as she cries out in ecstasy, her voice echoing off the walls of our room. I continue lapping at her folds, drawing out her pleasure for as long as possible.
As the tremors of her orgasm subside, Sirre lifts herself off my face, her breathing heavy and labored. A bead of sweat trickles down her neck, disappearing between her breasts.
"Did you like seeing your wife with another man's cock down her throat, Orth?" Sirre asks, her voice husky and raw. The words send a jolt of electricity through my body, my cock twitching visibly in response.
Sirre's eyes flick down, noticing my reaction. A slow, wicked smile spreads across her face. "Ohhh, I see my desperate husband enjoyed it quite a bit," she purrs, her gaze traveling to the floor. "You sure made a mess everywhere."
Without another word, she leans down, taking my full length into her mouth in one smooth motion. The sudden warmth and wetness enveloping me draws a guttural moan from my throat. Sirre's tongue swirls around my shaft as she bobs her head, her technique honed from years of intimacy together.
As we settle into a sixty-nine position, I can't help but lavish in her taste and smell. The musky scent of her arousal fills my nostrils.
I moan into her pussy as she sucks me off, the vibrations causing her to shudder above me. My hands grip her thighs, pulling her closer as I delve deeper with my tongue. The room fills with the obscene sounds of wet slurping, muffled moans, and the occasional gasp for air.
Sirre's movements become more urgent, her hips grinding against my face as she chases her pleasure. The taste of her arousal grows stronger, her slick folds becoming even wetter under my tongue. I feel her thighs trembling on either side of my head, a telltale sign of her approaching climax.
Suddenly, Sirre lifts her head, my cock slipping from her warm mouth with a wet pop. The cool air of the room hits my saliva-slicked shaft, making me shiver.
"I wonder," Sirre pants, her voice panting, "if Babin's cock would stretch out my pussy more than yours would."
A confusing mix of jealousy and arousal courses through my veins. My cock twitches violently, the mental image of Babin's thick cock stretching Sirre's tight pussy pushing me over the edge.
With a muffled cry against Sirre's dripping core, I begin to cum. Sirre, ever attentive, quickly takes me back into her mouth. Her lips form a tight seal around my shaft as she sucks, her tongue working in tandem to milk every last drop from me.
The intensity of my orgasm is overwhelming. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me, each pulse of my release accompanied by a full-body shudder. Sirre's mouth is relentless, coaxing more from me than I thought possible.
Despite the mind-numbing orgasm, I struggle to maintain my focus on Sirre's pleasure. My tongue continues to loop in her pussy, circling her clit before dipping lower to tease her entrance. I can feel her body tensing above me, her thighs quivering with mounting tension.
As the last tremors of my climax subside, Sirre's body goes taut again. A low wail escapes her, the vibrations traveling through my softening member still in her mouth.
We stay locked in this position for several long moments, both of us trembling and gasping for breath. The room is filled with the scent of sex and sweat.
Finally, Sirre rolls off me and positions herself beside me. Her chest heaves as she catches her breath, a light sheen of sweat glistening on her flushed skin.
I turn to look at Sirre, taking in the sight of my beautiful wife in her post-orgasmic bliss. Her auburn hair is splayed out on the pillow like a fiery halo, damp tendrils clinging to her flushed cheeks and slender neck. Her skin glows with a light sheen of sweat, giving her an almost ethereal appearance in the dim lamplight.
My gaze travels over the delicate arch of her eyebrows, the gentle slope of her nose, the full curve of her lips, still slightly swollen from our passionate activities. Her chest rises and falls with each breath, drawing my attention to the swell of her breasts and the peaks of her nipples.
But it's her eyes that truly captivate me. Those vibrant green orbs, flecked with gold, seem to shine with an inner light. They're windows to her very soul, filled with such depth of emotion that I feel I could get lost in them forever.
Sirre has always been the most gorgeous woman I've ever met, but like this, raw, uninhibited, utterly herself, she's breathtaking. I'm struck anew by how lucky I am to call her mine.
Overwhelmed with love, I reach out to cup her face gently in my hands. My calloused palms are a stark contrast to the softness of her skin. "I love you," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.
At my words, something shifts in Sirre's expression. Her eyes widen, taking on an almost crazed look. There's an intensity in her gaze. It's as if my love is suddenly the only thing in the world that matters to her.
"Say it again," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper.
I lean in, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. "I love you, Sirre," I murmur against her skin.
It's as if a dam has broken. Sirre surges forward, wrapping her arms around me in a fierce embrace. Her body shakes against mine as she starts to laugh, a wild, unrestrained sound that's part joy, part madness. It's almost villainous in its intensity, echoing off the walls of our small room. The kind of laugh I've grown very used to with all my time with her.
Sirre's laughter subsides, replaced by a fervent energy that radiates from her very being. Her eyes, wild and intense, lock onto mine for a moment before she begins her loving assault.
She starts at my forehead, pressing her soft lips against my skin. "I love you," she whispers, her breath warm against me. Her lips trail down to my cheek, leaving a tingling path in their wake. "I love you," she repeats, her voice filled with reverence.
Her mouth moves to my jaw, then down my neck. Each kiss is accompanied by those three words, spoken with increasing urgency. "I love you, I love you, I love you." Her lips brush against my collarbone, then down to my chest. I feel the warmth of her tongue as she tastes my skin, savoring me as if I were the most delicious thing she's ever encountered.
Sirre's hands roam my body as she continues her journey, her fingers tracing patterns on my skin that leave goosebumps in their wake. She kisses down my stomach, her auburn hair tickling my sides. "I love you," she murmurs against my hip bone, her voice muffled but no less fervent.
The room fills with the sound of her declarations, a litany of love that seems to echo in the very air around us.
Overcome with emotion, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her up to me. I hold her tightly, feeling the softness of her skin against mine, the beating of her heart syncing with my own. "I love you too, Sirre," I whisper into her hair, my voice thick with emotion. "So much. More than I could ever express."
We stay like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other's arms, our bodies intertwined as if we could meld into one being. The depth of my affection for her is staggering, a love so intense it almost hurts.
Finally, Sirre pulls away slightly, her green eyes meeting mine. There's a curious glint in them now, replacing the wild intensity from before. She tilts her head, a small smile playing on her lips.
"Honey," she says, her voice soft but filled with genuine curiosity, "how exactly did you develop a fetish for wanting to see your wife get taken by other men?" There's no judgment in her tone, just a sincere desire to understand.
I feel my stomach drop, a cold wave of dread washing over me. The warmth and intimacy of moments ago evaporates, replaced by a creeping anxiety that makes my skin prickle. I shift uncomfortably, averting my eyes from Sirre's intense gaze.
"Well," I start, my voice wavering, "would it be alright if maybe we didn't talk about this? It's a bit upsetting."
The words have barely left my mouth when Sirre's hand is suddenly at my throat, her fingers wrapping around it with lightning speed. Her grip is firm but not painful, a clear warning rather than an outright threat. I can feel her pulse through her palm, quick and strong against my skin.
I look up at her face, and my breath catches. Sirre's eyes, so full of love and devotion mere moments ago, now blaze with raw anger. The green of her irises seems to darken, like storm clouds gathering on the horizon. Her jaw is clenched, a muscle twitching in her cheek.
"Please don't tell me this is your sister's fault," she says, her voice low and dangerous. There's a tremor in it, barely controlled fury simmering just beneath the surface. "Every time you get this type of cagey, it's always about Mira."
I gulp hard, the motion made difficult by her hand on my throat. The sound seems to echo in the tense silence of the room. Sirre's fingers tighten slightly in response, her nails digging into the soft skin of my neck.
"I..." I start to say, but the words die in my throat as Sirre's grip hardens. Her eyes bore into mine, searching, demanding.
Sirre leans in closer, her face mere inches from mine. Her breath is warm against my cheek, a stark contrast to the cold dread pooling in my stomach. "Answer me, Orth," she whispers, her voice barely audible but filled with menace. "What did Mira do?"
I hesitate, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps under Sirre's grip. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears like a war drum.
"When... when I was young," I manage to choke out, the words scraping past Sirre's fingers, "Mira would tell me that we were meant to be together. That she'd marry me someday."
Sirre's grip tightens fractionally, her nails digging crescents into my skin.
"Which is a bit much for an older sister to say, of course," I continue hastily, the words tumbling out in a rush. "But I... I admit I was a bit smitten with her back then."
Memories flood back, unbidden. Mira's lilting laugh as she teased me, her long hair gleaming in the sunlight. The way her eyes would sparkle when she talked about our future together. The soft brush of her lips against my cheek, always lingering just a moment too long to be entirely sisterly.
Sirre's hand somehow tightens even further, cutting off my air completely now. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision as I struggle to breathe. Her face looms above me, a mask of fury and disgust.
"God, I fucking hate your sister," she snarls, her voice dripping with venom. "You two and your weird fucking obsession. I thought I'd trained that out of you."
I nod frantically, trying to convey my agreement, my apology, anything to make her loosen her grip. My lungs burn, screaming for air. Just as the darkness starts to close in, Sirre's hand relaxes slightly, allowing me to draw in a ragged breath.
She stares at me and barks, "Keep going."
I swallow hard, my throat dry and raw from her grip. "Well, one day, she told me we were going to finally become one," I continue, my voice barely above a whisper. "She told me to go into her bedroom and hide in her closet naked. I was young and horny. I thought that was weird, but I didn't know anything about sex."
I pause, the memories flooding back with vivid clarity. The musty scent of the closet, the way my heart had pounded with anticipation and nerves. Sirre's eyes bore into me, urging me to continue.
"Eventually, I see through the slightly open door Mira brings a strange man into her bed," I say, the words tumbling out now. "Within no time at all, they were fucking. She looked me in the eyes the entire time she rode him, her face flushed with pleasure. I was confused, aroused, and heartbroken all at once."
I can still see it so clearly, Mira's lithe body moving atop the stranger, her head thrown back in ecstasy. The way her eyes had locked onto mine through that sliver of open door, a wicked smile playing on her lips. The sounds of their lovemaking, the creaking of the bed, the man's grunts of pleasure, and Mira's breathy moans.
"I couldn't look away," I admit, shame coloring my voice. "I was frozen in place, watching as this man touched her in ways I had only dreamed about. And all the while, Mira kept glancing at the closet, making sure I was still watching."
I remember the conflicting emotions that had warred within me, the jealousy that burned in my gut, the arousal that made my young body tremble, and the crushing realization that Mira's promises of us being together had been nothing but a cruel game.
"When it was over after the man had left, Mira came to the closet," I continue, my voice barely audible now. "She opened the door and looked down at me, curled up on the floor, tears streaming down my face. And do you know what she said?"
Sirre's expression remains stony, her green eyes hard as flint. She doesn't respond to my question, her silence more chilling than any words could be.
I swallow hard, my throat dry and scratchy. "She said... she said, 'This is as close as we can get as family members, okay? So be strong for me. I want you to feel good too.'"
The words hang in the air between us, heavy and poisonous. Sirre's face contorts, a mixture of disgust and fury twisting her beautiful features. Her hand, still resting lightly on my throat, twitches as if she's fighting the urge to tighten her grip again.
"Your sister," Sirre spits out, her voice low and venomous, "is such a wretched whore."
Before I can react, Sirre pulls me into a fierce embrace. Her arms wrap around me tightly, almost painfully so, as if she's trying to shield me from the memories I've just shared. I can feel her heart pounding against my chest, her breath coming in short, angry puffs against my neck.
"I would do anything for you, Orth," she whispers fiercely into my ear. "Anything."
I wrap my arms around Sirre, pulling her closer. Her body trembles against mine, a mixture of rage and protective fervor radiating from her in palpable waves. The soft curves of her form mold perfectly to my angles, as if we were two pieces of a puzzle finally slotting into place.
"I will never betray you, Orth," Sirre whispers fiercely, her breath hot against my ear. Her voice quivers with emotion, each word imbued with a fervent intensity that makes my heart clench. "You are the only thing I hold dear in this world."
Her fingers dig into my back. It's as if she's trying to pull me impossibly closer, to merge our very beings into one.
"I know, honey," I murmur softly, my voice muffled against her hair.
My hands move of their own accord, tracing soothing patterns along the smooth expanse of her back. I can feel the tension in her muscles, the way they coil and release under my touch.
Sirre pulls back slightly, her emerald eyes locking onto mine. In the dim light, they seem to glow with an inner fire filled with a mixture of love, possessiveness, and lingering anger.
"I really hate your sister," she says, her voice low and venomous. The words drip from her lips like poison, filling the air between us with their potency.
I can't help but chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in my chest. It's a release of tension, a moment of levity in the heavy atmosphere. "I know," I reply, my lips quirking into a small, rueful smile.
Sirre has never been a fan of Mira.