41 ~ Its so Big 🔞
Chahat's POV.
I pulled back, chest heaving, lungs burning for air. The kiss had stolen every breath I had.
He collapsed onto the mattress beside me, his own breathing rough and uneven.
The hard planes of his chest rose and fell rapidly, golden skin still faintly damp, every muscle flexed and glistening under the low light. He looked even more devastating like this...raw, powerful, barely holding himself back.
My gaze drifted lower and then I saw it.
My eyes locked on his manhood and a sharp gasp tore from my throat.
"Uhhmm..." I bit my lips.
It was so thick, hard and so impossibly big.
Heavy veins ran along the length like dark roots, pulsing faintly with every heartbeat.
The swollen head glistened with a bead of moisture, flushed deep and angry, looking almost too large to be real.
It stood rigid against his stomach, thick enough that my fingers earlier hadn't even closed all the way around it.
I gulped hard.
I had felt it against my palm, had known it was substantial...
but seeing it fully for the first time made my stomach drop.
Heat and fear tangled low in my belly. I could already imagine the stretch, the deep, burning ache of that thick length forcing its way inside me, ripping me open in the most intimate way.
My walls clenched instinctively at the thought, a mix of dread and unwanted arousal making my thighs press together.
If I had known it would be this big... I never would have asked him to make love to me.
My eyes stung. Tears welled up before I could stop them.
He noticed instantly.
He sat up and pulled me against his bare chest in one smooth motion, strong arms wrapping around me, one large hand cradling the back of my head.
"Hey... hey, baby, breathe," he murmured, voice low and gentle even though I could still feel how hard he was against my palm. His palm stroked slowly up and down my back. "It's okay. Calm down for me."
I shook my head against his chest, a soft sob escaping.
"Kartik... it's so big... I can't." The words came out broken, thick with tears. "It's going to hurt. I can already feel how much it's going to... I don't think I'll be able to..."
His arms tightened, one hand continuing those slow, soothing circles on my back while the other cradled my face, thumb brushing away a tear.
"Shhh... look at me." He tilted my chin up carefully. His eyes were dark with desire but soft with understanding. "We're not rushing anything. We'll go slow. I'll make sure you're ready. I won't hurt you, Chahat. I promise."
I was still trembling against his chest when he gently took my wrist.
"Kuch nahi hoga...try to karo..."
(Nothing will happen... try.)
I shook my head feeling scared already, "Nahi."
(No.)
He chuckled, "Ek baar koshish to karo." He murmured, voice low and thick.
(Come on just try once.)
I hesitated, fear still fluttering in my stomach at the memory of how thick and heavy he had looked. My fingers curled into a fist.
He chuckled softly, the sound warm against my hair. "Aree...it won't bite baby."
I shot him a glare, cheeks burning, but he only smiled that slow, possessive smile and guided my hand lower. His larger palm covered mine, wrapping my fingers carefully around the thick, hot length of him.
The moment my skin touched his bare manhood again I sucked in a sharp breath.
He was so warm almost burning and so impossibly thick. The heavy weight of him pulsed against my palm.
"Dekho..." he said quietly, beginning to move my hand for me.
(Look...)
He started slow. His hand over mine slid my closed fist from the swollen, glistening head all the way down to the base, then back up again in a long, deliberate stroke.
I felt every ridge of the thick veins under my fingers, the silky smooth skin stretched tight.
"Just like that," he instructed, voice roughening. "Hold me firmly... but not too tight. Feel how hard I am for you."
He kept guiding me, showing me the rhythm he liked it slow on the way down, a slight twist of the wrist when I reached the head, then a firmer stroke back up.
Pre-cum smeared over my fingers, making the glide easier, slicker. The wet sound of my hand moving on him filled the quiet room.
He adjusted my hand so the pad of my thumb swept over the sensitive underside of the head on every upward stroke. His hips gave a small, involuntary jerk. "Fuck... yes. Just like that, Trouble."
I watched, half-fascinated, half-terrified, as my small hand worked over something so much bigger than I had expected.
The thick length twitched in my grip every time I passed over a particularly sensitive spot. His breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling under my cheek.
"A little faster now," he guided, still keeping his hand lightly over mine so I wouldn't lose the rhythm. He made me squeeze a bit more at the base, "Yes... perfect."
The fear was slowly melting into something hotter. I could feel how much power I had over him in that moment, the way his stomach tensed, the low sounds he couldn't hold back, the way his cock grew even harder and thicker in my fist.
My own body responded despite the lingering nerves; heat pooled between my thighs, the satin of my nightdress sticking to my damp skin.
He released my hand at last, letting me continue on my own while his fingers stroked through my hair.
"You're doing so well... making your husband feel so good. Keep stroking me just like that."he praised, voice dark and sensual.
I bit my lip, eyes fixed on the thick, veined length sliding through my fist, still overwhelmed by the size of him yet strangely addicted to the way he throbbed against my palm.
I kept stroking him exactly the way he had shown me; firm grip, slow twist at the head, thumb sweeping over that sensitive spot on every upward stroke.
His breathing grew rougher. His hips started moving in small, controlled thrusts into my fist, the thick length of him sliding hot and slick through my fingers. The wet sound of my hand working him filled the quiet room.
"Just like that, baby. Don't stop," he groaned, voice low and strained. One of his hands tangled in my hair while the other gripped the sheets. "You're going to make me... fuck, Chahat..."
I felt him swell even thicker in my palm. The heavy veins pulsed harder under my fingers. His whole body tensed.
"keep going... harder..."
A deep, guttural sound tore from his throat as he came.
Thick, hot ropes of cum spilled over my hand and fingers in strong pulses, coating my palm and dripping down onto his stomach.
I kept stroking him through it the way he had taught me, slower now, until the last shudder left his body and he finally stilled.
I stared at the mess on my hand, then at the still hard length of him, shiny and spent. My lower lip caught between my teeth.
How can anyone fit something this big in their mouth?
The thought alone made my throat tighten. Just imagining trying to wrap my lips around that thick, swollen head, trying to take even half of him... my stomach fluttered with a nervous ache.
He noticed the way I was looking. He reached for a clean tissue from the nightstand and gently wiped my palm and fingers clean, his touch surprisingly tender.
"You did so well, Trouble," he murmured, voice still rough. He tossed the tissue aside and cupped my face, pulling me into a slow, deep kiss. His lips moved against mine with lingering hunger even though he had just finished.
When he pulled back just enough to speak, his forehead rested against mine.
He disappeared into the washroom for a few minutes then after a while I cleaned myself too.
The mattress dipped as he stretched out beside me and pulled me straight against his bare chest, one strong arm locking around my waist like he never intended to let me go.
I settled against him, cheek pressed to the warm, solid muscle, listening to the steady beat of his heart. But my mind wouldn't quiet.
Curiosity burned under my skin. I wanted to know if he's still hard.
My hand slid lower almost on its own, palm gliding over the hard planes of his stomach until my fingers found the thick length of him again over his pants. He was still hard and warm even after everything. A soft, surprised sound escaped me.
His breath hitched. His hand shot down and gently but firmly removed mine and placed it on his chest.
"Mat karo, Chahat..." he warned, voice low and rough.
(Don't do it, Chahat.)
My hand rested on his chest, fingers spreading over the warm skin, but it wasn't enough. My palm itched.
For the last month I had fallen asleep exactly like this, curled against him with my hand resting on his manhood feeling it pulse and thicken under my fingers while he dozed.
It had become a habit, a secret little claim I made every night.
Now that I had finally seen it, finally felt him spill over my hand, the need to touch him again was almost unbearable.
I fisted and unfisted my fingers against his chest, restless. My thighs pressed together. The thin satin of my nightdress suddenly felt too warm.
He felt the tension in my body.
"Kya hua?" he asked quietly, lips brushing my hair.
(What happened?)
I shook my head, still refusing to speak, but my hand kept opening and closing like it had a mind of its own. The urge was too strong.
After a long moment of hesitation I gave in, sliding my palm back down and kept my fingers over hard heat of him once more.
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest.
"So jao," he murmured, the words soft but amused.
(Go to sleep.)
He didn't push my hand away this time. Instead his arm tightened around me, clearly loving the naughty, impatient side of me that couldn't keep her hands to herself.
I hugged him tighter, cheek pressed to his heartbeat, my fingers still curled possessively around the heavy length that had both scared and fascinated me tonight. The familiar weight of him in my palm finally soothed the restlessness.
Only then did I close my eyes and let sleep take me, still holding what had become mine.
.
.
.