This entry is part 17 of 17 in the series Sex With My Father-in-Law: The DIL and the Cuckold HusbandI was not all the way used to him. Even after I had sat down to the root. Even after three climaxes. my Father in law’s cock was still a thick, living fact inside me, stretching my pussy around a cock my marriage had never prepared me for. I lay on his chest and felt him pulse. Not thrusting. Just existing. Filling. Then he started to go upward. Slow. The first lift of his hips pressed the fat head into a place Rohan had never found. Deep. Forward. A blunt, sweet pressure that made my mouth open on his skin. “Dad— gentle. Please. Be as gentle as possible.” He was. It still felt like I was being stretched to my limits. He moved it up and down in tiny strokes. The drag was huge. My walls clung. I could feel every vein. He took my wrist and put my own hand on my hip, then on his, guiding me, teaching my body the pace like he taught files. The fact of his big hand steering mine turned me on so hard I got wetter around him. Then my hands started to set the pace. I rose a little. Sank. Rose. I felt more blood pumping into his dick without it even moving much. He swelled inside me. Thicker. A slow, dirty inflation that made my eyes blur. I slowed. I stared down at his face. Moonlight on the bald head. On the mouth that had been in mine. What the hell am I doing. The thought landed clean. This is my husband’s father. I am his daughter-in-law. Rohan is in Bangalore. This cock is Father in law. Papa. Daddy. The man who said the house was big enough. I was about to put a stop to it. Then he opened his eyes and looked directly into mine. My eyes must have been shining. His smile was not the office smile. It had so much heat in it, and something that felt like care, that it warmed the panic in my chest. I knew I could not stop. I started moving again. I did everything I could to give him more of those sounds. I wanted him to hear what he was doing to his son’s wife. “Ooh— ungh— mmm— ungh—” He held my hair. Not rough. Claiming. He kissed me while I rode those slow strokes, and the kiss was violent compared to the fuck. Mouth hungry. Tongue deep. Below, he stayed gentle, and the contrast wrecked me. “Oh God. Here it comes. I am coming.” I said it into his teeth. He did not pull out. He kept that thick cock working my tight pussy — the pussy that belonged to Rohan — and I clenched, shaking, moaning against the man who was impressing his daughter-in-law with a kind of fucking his son had never learned. “Ugh— yeah— ungh—” He pulled me close for another kiss. Then he started to push deeper. I did not think there was deeper. There was. Every inch felt like it was splitting me in half in a satisfying way. The pain of the size difference drowned under the pleasure. When he bottomed me out, when his hips met mine and there was nowhere else to go, I felt stuffed to the belly. Full. Claimed. He fucked me as gently as a man that big could, and he still fucked my brains out. Even without force I could not think. I could not make a pretty sentence. I could only feel how good it was, and the filthy truth under it: He is my husband’s father, and he is fucking me better than his son. It was just so big that the rest of the world fell off the bed. No Salt Lake. No anniversary. No flight. Only that heavy cock sliding in my soaked cunt, kissing me hard, hand in my hair, the other on my ass, keeping me seated so I could not escape the depth. I realized, slowly, that he was going deeper on each careful stroke. Not faster. Deeper. Like he was searching for a room inside me that had been locked. He found it. A press so low and high at once that I felt it behind my navel. A blunt kiss against a wall Rohan had never touched. Never. Not on our best night. Not when I tilted and hoped. “Dad— that place— your son never— he never reached here—” Father in law made a sound in his chest and kept the same gentle rhythm, hitting that same impossible spot until my thighs shook. I clung to him. Tits to his chest. Mouth to his mouth. Pussy stretched around the root of my father-in-law. The moonlight stayed on us. I did not stop him. I had looked at his face and chosen not to stop. And deep inside, where Rohan had never been, His father’s cock kept teaching my body a new depth, stroke by slow stroke, while I moaned into the kiss and let his son’s wife be fucked like she had been waiting years for this exact, dangerous filling. I felt him in me even when I only breathed. A thick, living shift. In. Out. Not much. Enough that every breath made Father in law’s cock kiss that deep place again. He finally put it all the way in and held. Honestly, I started to lose track of time. The room went soft at the edges. Moon. His chest. The wet sound of my father-in-law fucking his son’s wife in slow, heavy strokes. I came again. I think I came after that too. When I found my mind, I was already a few orgasms in, shaking on top of him, my Punjabi curves plastered to his body, my pussy stretched around a cock that would not get smaller. Then I heard him. “Simran. I am going to come.” I begged for it. “Yes. Dad. Inside. Please. Give it. Fill me. I want your cum in