There was an instinct-beast inside her

[Anonymous]

He never found out who she really was inside, despite the fact that he lived with her for a little over ten years.
And inside of her lived an instinct-beast that she hid from him, but could not hide from me. At the sight of me, her instinct became uncontrollable for her, it rushed out, breaking barriers and tearing off chains that were unable to restrain her urges. Now she clearly understood that she could not resist her own desire, which was bursting inside her like a blast wave as a result of a chain reaction. She and I didn’t care that he was superior to me in position. It doesn’t matter that I have a friendly relationship with him, which may be in jeopardy. We were drawn to each other like two opposite sides of a neodymium magnet.
The three of us met at my house completely by accident. Only he thought so, she guessed that all this could have been arranged on my part, and only I knew that all this was carefully planned, since everything went exactly my way. We argued with him about work, business, leisure, cinema, music and theaters. She was silent and listened to us, but her eyes and movements said more than she could say, if only she could. She didn’t take her beautiful green eyes off me, straightened her hair, played with the straw in her cocktail, unconsciously running it over it as if it were touching the phallus. Her thoughts were not at the table, they were closer to me - between me between my legs.
Unable to bear it, she asked to be taken to the women’s room. I knew that she had to be “attacked” right now. Taking the opportunity, I gallantly let her go ahead and we both headed towards the restroom, which was far from the living room and was well hidden two rooms away from his line of sight.
In the last room before the bathroom, without saying a word, I improved the moment and grabbed her hand, pulling her sharply towards himself. She turned around, throwing her beautiful hair over her shoulders.
Her body was trembling, her eyes were shining, there was zero resistance. She was unarmed, powerless and defeated. In one motion, continuing to turn her towards me, I put my other hand right between her legs. Also silently, she shook her head, denying everything that was happening, but did not resist. There was a struggle going on inside her. Not a fight with me, but a fight with myself. My fingers slid between her legs, despite her underwear, which was soaking wet from her discharge. For the first seconds, I couldn’t even grab the edge of her panties to move aside the piece of fabric that separated my fingers from her labia. He treacherously slipped, stubbornly not allowing access to direct contact with her delicate clitoral skin. Carelessly grabbing there with my fingers, like the claws of a cancer, I squeezed her engorged and swollen crotch together with the fabric, causing her I bent over slightly, barely squeaking from the sensations, but held back because they could hear us. My fingers were buried in her lubricant. She was at the edge of her capabilities and was ready to experience her orgasm. Her hand feverishly stopped me. In the silence, the rich sounds of the caresses of my fingers and the rolling of her wet, slippery labia were clearly audible. Her gaze asked to stop now, but her body continued to ask for more and more.

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