Chapter 257: Netori: Roughly Handling the Sinful Latina MILF

I twisted her nipple again roughly, pinching and rolling it between my fingers with deliberate force, making the swollen bud throb even harder under my grip.

“Then what is it?” I asked, voice low and rough, leaning close to her ear while keeping my eyes on her husband.

“Ahh… you are so rough…” Sofia cried out with pain, her voice breaking into a high, trembling whimper. Her body jerked forward instinctively, pussy clenching hard around my cock still buried deep inside her, fresh juices leaking out around my shaft and dripping down my balls in warm, slick trails.

The pinch sent a sharp jolt straight through her; her nipple swelled darker under my fingers, milk beading instantly at the tip and rolling down the curve of her breast in a thin white stream. Her thighs shook in the air, still spread wide by my other hand, her whole body trembling as the mix of pain and pleasure overwhelmed her.

“Sofia… why?” her husband tried to speak, but he could barely get the words out.

He stood frozen just a few feet away in front of us, tears streaming steadily down his face, hands clenched at his sides into white-knuckled fists, watching every detail with horrified fascination.

He saw how Sofia’s back arched toward my hand, how her nipple throbbed and leaked under my rough pinch, how her pussy spasmed visibly around my thick cock with every twist of my fingers.

He saw the way her body betrayed her, moaning louder even as she cried, hips rocking back to take me deeper despite the guilt written across her flushed, tear-streaked face.

“Ahh… oh God,” Sofia cried, her voice thick with pleasure.

Sofia’s moans were almost feral now, raw, animalistic sounds that filled the small break room. She was losing every last bit of morality slowly, but she still clung to the final thread of love she had for her husband.

Her eyes flicked toward him again and again, wide with shame and sorrow, but her body wouldn’t stop. Every thrust I gave made her gasp, every pinch made her whimper, and the conflict only seemed to make her wetter, needier, more desperate.

Her moans made my dick even harder inside her pussy, throbbing painfully against her spasming walls.

I drove my hips up once with raw force, burying myself deep in a single powerful thrust, making sure Sofia’s husband saw exactly how completely my cock could fill his wife.

The sharp, wet slap of our bodies echoed through the room. Sofia cried out, the sound breaking between a sob and a moan as her body convulsed around me. Her pussy clenched so tightly it almost forced me out, fresh warm juices gushing around my shaft and running down to soak my lap.

Then I slapped her breast hard, palm cracking against the soft, heavy flesh, watching it jiggle and redden instantly. Milk squirted from her nipple in a small arc, landing on her belly and dripping lower.

“What is it then? You don’t love it?” I said, slapping her breast again, harder this time, then squeezing it roughly so more milk flowed out in thick white streams, running down her curves and pooling on the sofa cushion.

Sofia ground her hips on my cock without even knowing, small, frantic circles that took me deeper, her pussy milking me greedily despite the tears on her cheeks. She was lost to desire, knew this was wrong, knew what we had been doing in this break room was destroying everything, but her body wanted my dick more than anything.

Her body didn’t care about morality, about vows, about the man standing in the room watching his world collapse. It only cared about the thick cock stretching her, the rough hand on her breast, the thumb circling her clit.

I knew exactly how to make her admit she loved it. I latched onto her right nipple as she leaned back hard against me, her body trembling while my mouth closed around the swollen, leaking bud. Then I bit down hard, my teeth sinking deep into the sensitive flesh while I drank her sweet milk in deep, greedy pulls.

Warm, thick streams flooded my tongue with every suck; I swallowed hungrily, letting some spill from the corners of my mouth and drip down my chin.

“Ahh… I love it… oh god, please…” Sofia cried out as I bit her nipple harder, her voice breaking into a high, desperate whimper.

The words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them, raw, honest, stripped of any pretense. Her pussy clenched violently around my cock still buried deep inside her, spasming in rhythmic waves as another fresh gush of her juices leaked out around my shaft and soaked my lap.

As those words left her mouth, her husband’s face fell completely. Tears were already streaming down his cheeks, but now his expression shifted from stunned disbelief to something far more broken, something resigned. For a moment, he had probably been clinging to the hope that she was being forced, blackmailed, or trapped in some nightmare she couldn’t escape. But hearing her say it herself—”I love it”—shattered that fragile illusion.

His shoulders slumped, and his knees looked as if they might give out beneath him. He stared at her, at the way her body arched helplessly toward my mouth, the way her hips rocked back to take my cock deeper, the way her leaking breasts bounced with every thrust, knowing now that she wasn’t a victim.

She was choosing this. She was choosing me.

“Sofia… baby, please—tell me why you’re doing this,” he said, his voice breaking into a sob. “I know you’re not like this… you’re not…”

The words died in his throat. He couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t bring himself to say what he feared she had become.

“Honey…”

Sofia couldn’t speak clearly at that moment. I was drinking from her breast and biting down on her nipple right in front of her husband, my mouth pulling warm milk from her while I sucked and bit at the sensitive flesh, and all of this, the exposure, the betrayal, the raw pleasure, was driving her out of her mind.

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