Hidden Desires - Family Secrets

Michael was startled by the eerie footsteps, his eyes darting to his bedroom door, his hands instinctively covering his groin as if bracing for an assault.

At this moment, Michael's fear and nervousness betrayed just how much he cherished every moment with Betty.

"Slap... slap... slap..."

The footsteps sounded no more than ten times, indicating Betty had taken fewer than ten steps from the bathroom to Michael's door—a distance easily covered in that count.

The footsteps halted right at Michael's door, plunging the corridor into a brief silence, punctuated only by Michael's muffled breathing and the barely restrained breaths from outside the door.

Rewind twenty seconds... Betty had closed her eyes and tilted her head back at the bathroom entrance.

When she lowered her head and reopened her eyes, her gaze had transformed.

It was as if her soul had been stripped away, her eyes hollow, seemingly under some sinister spell, as if cursed.

Her gaze fixed on Michael's door, behind which lay the antidote she desperately needed, as if a demonic whisper was seeping through the door, incessantly summoning her.

Betty, clutching her ample chest, slowly made her way toward the door as if possessed, her eyes devoid of reason, though a trace of sanity might still linger, no longer controlling her desires.

"Slap... slap... slap..."

Betty's bare feet made sticky, wet sounds on the floor.

This was partly because her feet were still wet, and partly because her soaked nightgown dripped continuously, leaving trails of water droplets around her, making her appear like a freshly bathed beauty, relentlessly advancing toward her beloved.

Betty's walk was awkward; her legs tightly pressed together, especially at the thighs, and with each step, her delicate body trembled.

The constant friction between her legs seemed to cause uncontrollable stimulation.

Staggering, Betty reached Michael's door and paused, her eyes fixed on the doorknob.

She knew she just had to grasp it gently to turn and open Michael's door, aware that Michael had neither the habit nor the need to lock his door.

However, upon reaching the door, a flicker of clarity seemed to struggle through in Betty's eyes, causing her to halt.

Betty bit her lip hard, seemingly caught in a fierce internal struggle.

She raised her hands to her temples, pressing them tightly, sandwiching her head between her palms, shaking it as if trying to regain clarity.

Yet, her trembling legs betrayed the overwhelming physical need within her, the effects of the aphrodisiac proving too potent.

Betty clenched her eyes shut, her hands still pressing her head, shaking it, her hair flinging droplets of water onto Michael's door and the floor, leaving reflective trails.

After a long struggle, Betty seemed to calm down.

She reopened her eyes, which no longer held the brief clarity seen earlier.

Taking a deep breath as if making a resolute decision, her eyes filled with determination.

At this point, she could no longer care about anything else; the torment of her bodily needs shattered her will, and she now sought only what she desperately needed.

"Click..."

Though Betty's action of opening the door was gentle, it still produced a faint sound, distinctly audible in the quiet, dark night.

As the door opened, Michael quickly turned his head and closed his eyes, his hands moving from his groin to his sides, lying straight and feigning sleep.

His face turned inward, as if unwilling to see Betty at the door.

Yet, Michael's slightly furrowed brow and clenched fists betrayed his tension.

He held his breath, daring not to breathe too loudly, carefully inhaling and exhaling.

Betty cautiously opened the bedroom door, peering through the crack first, still clinging to a shred of hesitation, not rushing in like a madwoman.

After spotting Michael's figure, Betty held her breath for a few seconds to make sure she hadn't awakened him, then slowly pushed the door open.

"Creak..."

The door opened slowly, but the night was so quiet that even this soft sound seemed loud.

After opening the door, Betty exhaled a breath she had been holding.

Even if sober, Betty would never have had the courage to initiate intimacy with Michael, but under the influence of the drug, her inhibitions were significantly lowered.

The door remained ajar, perhaps because Betty feared that closing it might make a noise and awaken Michael.

In reality, Betty's precautions were somewhat pointless; even if she was careful, any intimate encounter with Michael would surely wake him.

However, Betty hoped to delay the moment of his awakening as long as possible.

Standing at the doorway, Betty gazed at Michael, who was shirtless, displaying the perfect masculine form of his upper body.

Even lying there, his muscles were impressively defined.

His lower body was clad in pajama pants, and although his penis was not erect, the bulge in his groin was still prominent.

In that moment, Betty saw a true man, one with a strong and virile body, reigniting the suppressed desires within her, fueling the flames of her arousal even more.

"Slap... slap... slap..."

Betty, clutching her full breasts, tried to control her breathing as her sticky footsteps echoed again.

The bathroom light, left on by Betty, cast a faint glow into the bedroom, allowing her to see everything dimly, adding a hazy allure to the scene.

Water continued to drip from Betty's body, hitting the floor with soft plops.

Now, it wasn't just bathwater dripping from her; tears streamed down her face as well.

As Betty decided to approach Michael's bed, tears rolled down her bewildered eyes.

The last remnants of her rational mind unleashed all her frustrations and guilt.

"Betty, you've held on for so long, it's enough..." I found myself whispering these words under my breath, feeling a salty taste in my mouth as I empathized with Betty, tears welling up in my eyes.

It wasn't just self-pity; I genuinely felt for Betty.

Any resentment I had towards her was partially dissolved by this poignant scene.

Betty walked to the bedside, looking down at Michael, her legs still trembling slightly.

Tears mixed with bathwater streamed down, pooling on the floor.

Her trembling legs indicated her struggle to restrain herself, perhaps thinking Michael was sound asleep, unaware that Michael was the very reason for her current state.

That day, when Betty accidentally walked in on Michael, his exposed penis had startled her, and she hadn't noticed that Michael was actually snoring, albeit quietly.

Now, although Michael feigned sleep convincingly, he wasn't snoring, a detail a sober Betty would have noticed.

Betty wiped her eyes and slowly bent over, her body shaking, her lips trembling.

Despite being under the influence of the drug, she was extremely nervous.

After all, she had come to Michael's room on her own initiative.

If Michael woke up, she didn't know what to expect.

He might pin her down in a passionate embrace, or he might wake up and ask her to leave...

As Michael had grown, Betty couldn't clearly discern his feelings towards her.

Betty's hair, damp with cold droplets, brushed against Michael's chest.

As she bent over, her face hovered above his chest, feeling the warmth of his breath.

Her wet hair clung to his chest, stirring with each tremble from Betty.

Was Betty trying to wake Michael intentionally, hoping that a roused Michael would overpower her?

As Betty's hair touched Michael's chest, his clenched fists tightened even more...