I remember the way her tongue darted out, teasing the edge of his lips. She was moaning, a sound that cut through me like a knife. Her throat was exposed, vulnerable, as he plunged deeper. I watched, my heart pounding, as she took him in, her eyes closed, lost in the moment. The sight of her, so wanton, so desperate, was both a thrill and a torment. I was her husband, but in that instant, I was nothing. Just a spectator to her pleasure, her submission to another man’s desire.
Her Moans Echoing in My Mind
Her moans were a symphony of ecstasy, each one a testament to her surrender. I could see the way her body responded, the arch of her back, the quiver of her thighs. She was a slave to her lust, and he was her master. The text






