Virtual Sex with FIL – Part 2

I turned slightly to the side, the curve of my ass on full display. It wasn’t as firm as it once was. But it was still shapely, a testament to the years of carrying and bearing children.

I took a moment to admire myself. The way my body had changed, the way it had grown and adapted to meet the demands of motherhood. Then, with a mix of excitement and trepidation, I bent over. The panties were still around my ankles. I snapped a photo, capturing the plump mounds of my buttocks.

The message was sent, and I waited. My heart thumped like a drum in my chest. It didn’t take long for him to respond. “Oh, Sandhya,” he wrote, his words like a whisper in my ear. “You are so tempting.” I felt a thrill run through me, a warmth pooling between my legs.

I had never been one to flaunt my body. But his appreciation was like a drug, a heady rush that I couldn’t get enough of. The days grew into a rhythm of daring exchanges, each one more intimate than the last. I found myself looking forward to his messages.

The thrill of his hunger for me was like a secret vice that I couldn’t resist. Yet, the guilt was always there, lurking in the shadows of my mind, whispering that this was wrong. I was betraying my husband and my marriage.

One afternoon, my FIL’s message was more insistent than ever. “I want to see you, Sandhya. All of you.” His words sent a shiver down my spine. I knew what he meant, the ultimate revelation of my nakedness. My phone buzzed again, the screen lighting up with his name.

I swiped open the message with trembling fingers. This time, there was no photo, just a simple text: “Sandhya, my love, I can’t take it anymore. I need to see all of you.” I felt a wave of resistance, the guilt crashing over me like a cold wave. This was too much, too intimate.

But then, a new message arrived, a video attachment. I clicked on it, my heart racing. The screen filled with the image of my FIL, his face flushed, his eyes dark with desire. His hand moved into view, holding his phone.

He began to undo his dress, revealing his erect cock. It was thick and veiny, standing tall and proud. He called me in the video. My breath hitched in my throat as I watched him stroke himself, his movements slow and deliberate. His eyes met mine through the screen.

At that moment, I knew he was watching me, too. He was waiting for my response, for my permission to go further. And as much as I knew it was wrong, and I knew I should end this right here, I couldn’t bring myself to look away. I kept the phone on the bed, the screen still glowing with his image.

I could feel his eyes on me, willing me to do the unthinkable. With trembling hands, I slid my panties down. My knees were shaking as I stepped out of them. I stood before the mirror, the light casting my body in an erotic silhouette.

With no dress, except the mangalsutra that hung around my neck and touched my boobs, hip chain and anklet, I felt a strange sense of freedom and rebellion. The weight of the gold necklace was a stark contrast to the bare skin that lay beneath it.

I looked down at my nakedness. The soft folds of my stomach, the dark curls that shielded my sex. I felt vulnerable but also incredibly powerful. I watched as my FIL’s hand moved faster on his cock, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. His eyes never left mine, and I knew he was watching my every move.

With a trembling hand, I reached down and touched my clit, the sensation sending a jolt through my body. I gasped, my eyes fluttering shut for a moment before snapping open again, meeting him on the video call. I was unable to tear myself away from his gaze.

His strokes grew more urgent, his hips bucking slightly with each touch. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down my spine. “Show me how much you want me.” I could feel the heat building within me, my body responding to his command.

With a tremble, I slid my hand down my body, my fingers slipping through my wetness. I watched as his eyes widened, his hand moving faster. The sound of his heavy breathing filled my ears, echoing the rhythm of my own. The tension grew unbearable as we watched each other.

Our bodies moved in a silent symphony. My hand grew bolder, my fingers delving deeper, exploring my desires under the watchful gaze of my husband’s father. The guilt was a distant whisper, drowned out by the crescendo of pleasure that grew louder with each passing second.

“Your breasts are so full,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the phone. “Your husband is a lucky man.” His words sent a shiver down my spine, the taboo nature of his comment only serving to heighten my arousal.

I cupped my breasts, my thumbs brushing over the sensitive tips, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through my body. “And now, I want to see how wet you are for me,” he instructed, his eyes dark and demanding. I felt a thrill of excitement mixed with a pang of guilt.

This was wrong, but the desire was too strong to resist. I slipped my hand down, my fingers sliding through the slick folds of my pussy. He watched intently, his hand still moving on his cock, his strokes growing more erratic. My fingers found my clit, and I began to rub it gently, the sensation making me gasp.

“Show me,” he urged, his voice gruff with lust. I pulled my hand away, my fingers glistening with my arousal. I brought them up to the camera, spreading them apart so he could see just how wet I was for him. His eyes narrowed, and his hand moved faster, his breath coming in harsh pants.

“Now, fuck yourself,” he said his voice a command that sent a shiver down my spine. “Imagine it’s me inside you, filling you up.” With trembling hands, I slid my fingers back down my body, parting my folds and inserting one digit into my pussy. The sensation was overwhelming.

I couldn’t help but moan at the intrusion. His eyes never left the screen as he watched me, his hand a blur as he stroked himself. I began to move my finger in and out, the wetness making it easy to glide in and out of my body. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the feeling of my touch.

But all I could see was his cock, thick and hard, demanding attention. With each stroke, I thought of his length, of the way he would fill me, the way he would stretch me. I added another finger, my body responding to the rhythm I had set. The ache inside me was growing with each passing moment.

“Faster,” he urged, his voice strained. “Imagine it’s my cock inside you, pounding you until you scream my name.” I obeyed, my hips moving in time with my hand, the illusion of his member driving into me becoming more and more real with each passing second.

My breath grew ragged, and I could feel the beginnings of an orgasm building, my body tightening around my fingers. As I worked myself over, my FIL’s hand grew more frantic on the screen. His breathing was ragged, his eyes never leaving my hand as it moved in and out of my body.

“Pinch your nipples,” he instructed his voice a harsh whisper. “Pretend it’s my teeth biting down, marking you as mine.” I complied, rolling the sensitive flesh between my thumb and forefinger, the pain melding with the pleasure. The room was filled with the sounds of our shared desire.

The slick wetness of my pussy and the harsh pants of his breathing. His hand moved faster, his cock swelling and reddening with each stroke. “Imagine it’s me,” he said, his voice strained with effort. “Imagine it’s my cock sliding in and out of you, filling you up.”

I bit my lower lip. My eyes locked on his screen. I slid another finger into myself, the sensation almost too much to bear. The image of his cock in my mind grew more vivid with each thrust. His head was nudging against my g-spot, his length filling me.

I could feel my orgasm approaching, a crescendo that threatened to drown out all reason. I fucked myself with my fingers. I pinched my nipples, imagining his teeth clamping down, leaving a trail of fire across my skin. The pain was delicious, a sharp contrast to the pleasure that was building deep within me.

My hips rocked in time with my hand, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps. “Harder,” he urged, his voice a low growl that sent shockwaves through me. “Take it like you want my cock.” And so, I did. I fucked myself harder.

My fingers plunged in and out of my pussy as if they were his cock, as if he were there with me, claiming me as his own. The ache grew more intense, the need for release building like a storm within me. With my free hand, I pinched my nipples, rolling the sensitive peaks between my thumb and forefinger.

The pain was a sweet agony that only served to fuel the fire burning between my legs. I imagined his mouth on me, his teeth grazing my skin, his tongue flicking and teasing until I was begging for more. The fantasy grew more vivid with each passing moment.

I could almost feel the wetness of his kisses, the roughness of his stubble against my tender flesh. My other hand moved faster, my fingers sliding in and out of my wetness with a desperate need. The sensation was overwhelming, the illusion of his cock inside me becoming more and more real.

I could feel the swell of his head, the thickness of his shaft, the way he would stretch me open and fill me. My breath grew ragged, and my moans grew louder as the tension coiled tighter within me. The screen flickered with his movements.

His hand was a blur as he stroked himself, his eyes never leaving my face. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that seemed to vibrate through me. “Imagine it’s me, fucking you, making you come.” My hips bucked, my hand moving faster, the pressure building until it was all I could focus on.

His breath grew harsher, his movements more erratic, and I knew he was close. The thought of him coming while watching me was too much. I felt the orgasm crash over me, my body convulsing with the force of it. I cried out, my eyes squeezed shut.

My hand was still working my clit as the waves of pleasure washed over me. As the spasms subsided, I heard his grunt of release, the sound of his hand moving frantically over his cock. I opened my eyes to see his cum spurt onto his chest, the milky white stark against his dark skin.

He watched me, his eyes hooded with lust. I brought my hand to my mouth, tasting myself, my fingers still trembling from the intensity of the climax. We both took a moment to catch our breath. The silence between us was thick with unspoken desire.

The reality of what we had just done crashed down on me like a tidal wave. I felt a mix of shame and satisfaction. I had never felt so alive, so wanted, so utterly consumed by lust. But it was with his son’s father, the man who had held me in his arms when I was a new bride.