Hidden Desires - Family Secrets-Chapter 73 - 0 Smeared with a mix of love fluids and semen R18

The bedroom was filled with the sounds of flesh smacking and moans, thanks to Michael having just finished once, his stamina was holding up better for round two. His massive member kept thrusting in and out of Betty relentlessly.

Sitting in front of my computer, my eyes glued to the sight of that member moving in and out of Betty, I noticed something peculiar about Michael’s anatomy.

This content is taken from freёnovelkiss.com.

There was a distinct color boundary between the head and the shaft of his penis—the head was a lighter shade, almost purplish, while the shaft was a deeper red, with the foreskin marking the transition. It almost looked like the head and shaft were detachable, like some kind of modular design.

Betty’s legs were hoisted over Michael’s shoulders, her body rocked by the force of his thrusts, moving up and down rapidly. Her breasts, which I once adored, were being kneaded and reshaped in Michael’s hands. Betty’s breaths were no longer just breaths; her moans were plaintive, almost like she was crying and breathing at the same time.

It was a stark contrast to the sounds she made with me; the complexity of pleasure, stimulation, sadness, and guilt intermingled in her cries, revealing all her emotions.

True to his reputation as a school athlete, Michael was leveraging his physical prowess. His hips moved with a rapid, consistent rhythm, showing no signs of slowing down even after several minutes. Eventually, though, his pace did slow, but each thrust seemed to carry more weight.

The room echoed with the dull thuds of their bodies colliding, creating a rhythmic "smack, smack, smack..."

Two prolonged moans filled the air, one a deep masculine grunt, the other a sharp, melodious feminine cry. Their moans mingled, resonant and lingering.

With one final powerful thrust, Michael buried himself deep inside Betty, their pubic bones and pubic hair entwining tightly, their fluids mingling and dripping onto the bedsheet below.

From behind, only Michael’s deep-red scrotum was visible, blocking Betty’s rear, as their secretions trickled past, staining the sheets.

Michael knelt between Betty’s spread legs, gripping her breasts tightly. His upper body was rigid, his head thrown back as his body shook intensely, especially noticeable was the tightening of his scrotum. At this moment, Michael reached his second climax, continuously releasing his seed deep into Betty’s womb.

Betty, too, climaxed, her breasts firmly in Michael’s grasp. Her upper body arched off the bed, her head pressing into the pillow, her back completely off the mattress, making her breasts jut out even more prominently. It looked almost as if Michael was lifting her off the bed by her breasts alone.

Both were panting, their pleasure peaking, everything between mother and son reaching a crescendo. In the unseen connection of their bodies, Michael’s tawny glans continuously ejaculated thick semen potent enough to impregnate Betty. The semen relentlessly washed over the inner walls of Betty’s vagina and her womb.

If Betty wasn’t on birth control and the timing was right, she could definitely get pregnant, possibly with a biracial child...

As the climax slowly subsided, Michael seemed to lose the last bit of his strength, collapsing slowly as if completely spent, finally resting on top of Betty, his face buried in her ample bosom, gasping for air on the side.

His hips remained tightly against Betty’s, and even after ejaculation, his penis was still sizable. So unless he pulled out himself, Betty’s vaginal muscles couldn’t expel it.

When Michael collapsed onto Betty’s chest, her legs weakly slid off his shoulders and sprawled freely at his hips. Because Michael’s hips were still pressed against Betty’s, her legs couldn’t close and were left spread apart, her heels digging into the mattress.

Betty lay on the bed like a rag doll, her cheeks flushed and sweaty, her hair plastered against her forehead and temples. With her eyes closed and breathing heavily, both were still overwhelmed by the aftershocks of their climax. With Michael’s penis still inside her, not a drop of semen leaked from her vagina, as if it were all corked up inside her, none of it wasted.

The scene seemed frozen in time as I clicked through the video, perhaps because they were simply too exhausted. Gradually, their breathing became even, and Michael just lay there on top of Betty, both of them falling into a deep sleep, still intimately connected.

Watching them sleep peacefully together, I finally let out a long-held breath. At that moment, my mind was a complete mess.

I wanted to go home and let out all my anger and frustration. But I knew I only had a glimpse of the whole picture. I needed to watch all the videos before deciding. If this was their only encounter, I might forgive Betty, thinking of it as an assault. But I could never forgive Michael.

I wouldn’t harm him—he’s still Laura’s son in a lawful society—but I might have to send him to an orphanage or find him another home to prevent further trouble.

Sitting in my office chair, I rubbed my temples and glanced at the clock. Less than an hour until work. I knew I needed more time to watch the videos, curious about what happened next, but I forced myself to hold back.

I shut down the computer, gathered my things, and dragged my exhausted body out of the office. I chose to leave now to avoid my colleagues seeing me in this defeated state, a stark contrast to yesterday’s triumphant mood.

Better to slip out before anyone else arrived.

After stepping out of the office, I stood at the entrance, staring at the nearly empty street, clueless about where to go next. If I hadn’t seen those videos, I’d be over the moon, ready to head home with the appointment letter and that diamond ring to celebrate with Betty.

But today, I just didn’t feel like going home. I needed to watch all the videos first, to understand everything clearly.

Dawn had broken, a new day had arrived, and tomorrow was our wedding anniversary. The diamond ring and the appointment letter were meant to be my gifts to Betty, but now, I wondered if I could still give them to her.

If Betty had been raped, against her will, I could forgive that. But what scared me was the possibility of seeing Betty’s proactive, lascivious side, seeing her conquered by Michael, seeing her emotionally attached to someone else...

I stopped by a convenience store that was open early to pick up some toiletries, then found a nearby hotel and checked into a fairly large room.

Despite barely sleeping that night, I felt wide awake. I hadn’t eaten anything because I just wasn’t hungry, and I hadn’t even freshened up.

After settling into the room, I sat on the bed, reopened my laptop, connected everything, and prepared to continue watching the videos.

I had thought about turning off my phone, but since I had returned to the office, I kept it on just in case my boss needed to reach me.

I fast-forwarded the video to the moment the two were sleeping together. About two hours later, Michael seemed to want to turn over. As he rolled off Betty, his penis was also pulled out of her vagina with a sound reminiscent of a cork popping. Michael’s limp penis emerged from Betty’s vagina.

Contrary to what I had imagined, a massive amount of semen didn’t gush out when his penis was withdrawn. Only a little semen trickled from the entrance of Betty’s vagina; after all, two hours had passed, and most of it had likely seeped deeper inside.

Michael rolled off, seemingly unfazed, but Betty was visibly shaken by the sudden emptiness, causing her body to shudder slightly.

She slowly woke up, ran her fingers through her bangs, and rubbed her head. She groggily opened her eyes, glanced around the room, perhaps thinking it was all a dream.

But when she realized she was naked, she quickly widened her eyes and sat up abruptly. She touched her labia and then saw the discolored semen on her fingers, along with the strong scent of hormones.

Betty looked down at the scratch marks and kiss marks on her breasts and the bruises around her wrists from struggling against handcuffs.

At that moment, Betty fully came to her senses, turned her head in panic, and looked at the man lying naked beside her—her adopted son, the boy she loved so dearly, the boy she had doted on to the point of neglecting her own husband.

He too lay naked beside her, his well-developed muscles glistening, his flaccid but still impressive penis lying limp between his legs, smeared with a mix of love fluids and semen, the remnants of their recent encounter still fresh and emitting a lascivious scent.