Hidden Desires - Family Secrets

Michael's breath quickened, his chest heaving with a mix of exertion and arousal as he glimpsed Betty's breasts reacting to the stimulation.

Betty, seemingly reluctant to face Michael, turned her head away, burying her face into the back of the couch.

With one hand steadying the leg he had hoisted onto his shoulder, and the other grasping Betty's nearest breast, Michael resumed his thrusts.

This position, though unconventional and rarely used, offered a unique sensation.

Betty's one leg rested on the couch while the other was draped over Michael's shoulder, her legs splayed wide, revealing everything.

The absence of any barrier between their hips allowed Michael to plunge deeply with each thrust, leaving no space unexplored.

The sound of their bodies meeting was a dull thud, the absence of any slapping noise only emphasizing the wet, muffled sounds of their union.

With each separation of their bodies, strands of creamy secretion stretched between them, growing stickier and more abundant with each movement.

Betty's moans were muffled as she covered her mouth, but Michael, seeing her reaction, paused briefly to catch his breath before resuming with even greater intensity.

The rhythm of his thrusts became relentless, each one fully withdrawing before plunging back in forcefully, their hips colliding with loud, resonant impacts.

Michael seemed to unleash all his strength, his pace frenetic.

Betty's leg, draped over his shoulder, swayed back and forth with his movements, a testament to the intensity of their encounter.

Betty's body rocked against the couch, the friction creating a dry, rasping sound.

Michael's grip on her thigh and breast seemed to anchor her to him, her large breasts allowing for the vigorous tugging without restraint.

Betty, like a small boat in a storm, was tossed helplessly.

Her attempts to stifle her moans only intensified the furrows on her brow and her rapid breathing.

Her hand, initially firm over her mouth, gradually weakened, slipping away despite her efforts to maintain silence.

Seeing Betty's struggle, Michael's face broke into a slight grin, as if challenging her endurance.

Soon enough, her hand fell away, limp and lifeless, bouncing slightly as it hit the couch.

With no hand to cover her mouth, Betty gasped for air, her moans now loud and unrestrained, filled with a mix of desperation and surrender.

Hearing Betty's cries, a flicker of excitement and satisfaction crossed Michael's face, spurring him to increase the speed and force of his thrusts.

At this moment, Betty's volume and body were completely under Michael's control.

Michael withdrew his caressing hand, wrapped his arms around Betty's thighs that were draped over his shoulders, and began to thrust with all his might.

The room was filled with a symphony of carnal sounds: the thud of bodies colliding, Michael's heavy breathing, Betty's reluctant moans and cries, the dry sound of skin rubbing against the couch, the squelching of lubrication, and the 'squelch' of penis and vagina friction.

All these sounds melded into the most lascivious, seductive melody.

Would Michael eventually pull out and ejaculate outside Betty?

I couldn't help but think, knowing full well that Betty wasn't wearing an IUD, and neither of them had used a condom.

There were no birth control measures in place.

There were only two methods of contraception available: the first was for Michael to pull out at the moment of climax and ejaculate outside Betty, but this method wasn't foolproof since pre-ejaculate fluid could still contain sperm.

The second option was for Betty to take birth control pills, which could almost guarantee safety but at the cost of her health.

We had been planning to have children, and taking pills would undoubtedly lower her chances of conception.

As I pondered, I hoped that in the final moments, Michael would pull out and let his semen spill outside Betty's body, at least sparing her vagina and uterus from any contact with his semen.

This would lessen the unease in my heart a bit.

If Betty allowed Michael to finish inside her, or even resorted to harming her health by taking birth control pills, my heart might shatter completely.

Time ticked by, and Michael, with his robust stamina, continued his relentless thrusting for ten minutes.

His movements were precise and unslowed, turning Betty's pale skin a flushed red, as if she were feverish, her body drenched in sweat.

Betty's cries had become hoarse.

A minute later, Michael buried his penis deep inside Betty, grinding their hips together without a gap.

Michael's body was tense, and so was mine.

My fingernails seemed to dig into my own thighs.

Had it ended?

Had Michael ejaculated?

His penis was buried deep inside Betty's vagina, the tip reaching into her uterus.

Was he now injecting the seeds of life inside her?

"Ah..." Betty let out a high-pitched moan, her leg that was draped over Michael's shoulder kicked up high.

That leg, which had been wildly swinging with each thrust, had long since lost its high-heeled shoe, revealing her bare, pale foot to the air.

Betty's little foot was raised high, her toes curling continuously, forming a right angle with her foot arch.

Betty reached her third climax, and it was a transcendent one.

Her hands clutched the couch tightly, marking it with scratches and creases as her body trembled.

But observing Michael, his body was also shaking, though not as visibly as Betty's, and his testicles hadn't contracted.

Had he not ejaculated yet?

Realizing this, I inexplicably felt a sigh of relief.

Logically, I should have hoped for their encounter to end soon, to end my torment, but my relief came because, at least for now, Betty hadn't been inseminated by Michael.

What a contradictory feeling, a tough choice.

Michael's hand gently caressed Betty's long leg, the other soothing her breast, comforting her as if she had just returned from a storm, soaked by the rain.

Betty lay motionless, like a puddle of mud, letting Michael do as he pleased.

She no longer had the strength to open her eyes or glance at the clock on the wall.

It was now 5:05 AM, less than half an hour before I usually got home.

After Betty had calmed down once more, Michael adjusted the leg that was draped over his shoulder to secure it better.

He then lifted her other leg, slowly transitioning her body from a side to a supine position.

Now, both of Betty's legs were resting on Michael's shoulders, and throughout this maneuver, his penis remained inside her vagina.

Michael had not yet ejaculated.

It seemed he was deliberately prolonging the moment.

He might have been close to climaxing but suddenly stopped, allowing his urge to subside so he could extend their session.

With Betty now lying on her back, the limited length of the couch cushion meant that her upper body couldn't fully recline.

Her head rested against the back of the couch, her back on the cushion, while her legs were lifted by Michael.

Her lower back and buttocks extended off the edge of the couch, unsupported except for Michael holding her legs.

Betty's head was propped against the couch's backrest, her neck bent so that it formed a right angle with her chest.

Her chin touched her breasts, and her hands clutched the mattress as if it were a lifeline, stabilizing her body.

Once Michael had secured Betty's legs, he leaned forward to grasp her breasts.

Now in this position, he could finally hold both of her breasts in his hands.

After grabbing them, Michael took a deep breath, seemingly gathering strength for what was to come.

It seemed the final sprint was about to begin, but at that moment, I hesitated.

Should I turn off the surveillance?

I had the courage to watch the beginning of this carnal scene, but I lacked the bravery to see its conclusion.