The Mask Cracks

Neha's mouth works Arshad's cock in the dim shadows of Auntie Shobha's front room, her eyes locked on his as she hears the old woman's satisfied hum behind her. Arshad's hand tightens in her hair, a silent signal, and he pulls her off just enough to whisper, 'Don't let her see you smile.' Neha swallows the tremor in her throat and takes him deeper, her tongue tracing the vein she knows makes him shudder, while Auntie Shobha steps closer, the phone's red light blinking. 'Enough,' the old woman snaps, but Arshad ignores her, his thumb brushing Neha's cheek in a gesture that feels almost tender before he shoves her head back down. Neha's hands grip his thighs, and she knows—she will give Auntie Shobha the show she wants, but every moan, every suck, is for him alone.