Hidden Desires - Family Secrets

Chapter 114 Michael, what are you doing? Part2 R18

Betty wiped away her tears, clenched her teeth, and then gently kissed Michael on the lips, a light touch that seemed to awaken a part of his memory related to their intimate moments.

"Shh..." As Betty's lips barely left Michael's, he quickly pursued her, enveloping her smaller mouth with his much larger one.

"Shh, shh..." Michael sucked on Betty's lips, and after her initial gentle initiation, she became passive, enduring Michael's kisses.

At this point, it was likely that Michael hadn't brushed his teeth for days, one could only imagine the intensity of his breath, but Betty showed no signs of disgust.

For her, Michael's recovery was her only concern, worth even her life, so what was a little dirt?

Betty's lips continuously changed shape in Michael's mouth, and after a while, she willingly extended her tongue, which Michael eagerly clung to.

Witnessing this scene, I knew that at least for tonight, Betty was prepared to give her all.

Since she discovered that intimacy could help Michael recover, she was ready to sacrifice everything.

Observing Michael, it was clear he wasn't pretending; a child couldn't mimic this so accurately, so he must have been genuinely affected.

Was Betty right in doing this? I couldn't say, but I didn't want her to be so willingly exploited by Michael, not in a thousand years.

Michael's focus remained on Betty's lips, his hands that had been caressing her back paused, and his arms that enveloped her body relaxed.

As Michael's arms loosened, Betty and Michael's bodies finally gained some distance, and her breasts, previously compressed, regained their full, rounded shape without any sagging.

As they kissed, Betty's body gently swayed, and the pink tips of her breasts lightly brushed against Michael's body, occasionally touching his nipples.

"Mmm..." Betty moaned softly through her nose, her internal conflict slowly tipping towards desire.

Since she had decided to go through with this, Betty's hesitation was fading.

They say life is like an assault: if you can't resist, you might as well enjoy it, and what Betty faced wasn't even an assault.

Betty initially closed her eyes, perhaps unwilling to face Michael, imagining him in her mind as her husband, to lessen her guilt.

But Michael kept attacking her lips, not knowing to change his focus; initially, he only focused on her breasts, then her back, and now, after Betty initiated a kiss, he seemed to realize but foolishly focused only on her lips again.

Betty opened her eyes, a flash of desire and a hint of helplessness passing through them.

Betty had to lift her hands and gently caressed her breasts, her fingers occasionally brushing against Michael's chest.

Before bathing him, she had only seen his back, too apprehensive to face him directly.

Now, confronting him head-on, the bruises seemed even more pronounced.

She wondered if Michael had hurt himself or if someone else had bullied him.

Either way, seeing his battered condition intensified her feelings of sympathy and guilt, blaming herself for his plight.

Now that Betty had seen Michael's entire front, the clean skin only highlighted the scars more starkly.

These marks stirred something deep within Betty.

Imagining Michael dirty and beaten, curled up on the ground protecting his head while being kicked and punched by thugs, she realized his current state was far from simple.

Tears welled up in Betty's eyes again, but she fought them back, tilting her head to keep them from falling.

She looked down once more, her earlier conflicted emotions nearly gone, replaced by a mix of pity, resolve, and a burgeoning desire.

Betty reached out to gently touch Michael's chest, her fingers tenderly tracing the scars.

As she caressed Michael, he reciprocated, their arms weaving seamlessly between them without disrupting each other.

In this moment, they resembled a couple, each seeking something from the other—Michael driven by desire, Betty driven by heartache.

After tracing the scars on Michael's upper body, Betty's hands moved downward, gently caressing his stomach.

Michael had been quite thin when he first arrived at my house, having just lost his parents.

Betty took it upon herself to nourish him, preparing delicious meals and even serving him extra helpings, much to my envy as we all shared meals at the same table.

Thanks to Betty's efforts, Michael had gradually gained weight, even developing a noticeable belly. However, in just a week, his belly had shrunk significantly, as if a week's stress had stripped away months of Betty's nurturing.

Betty likely imagined Michael dizzy with hunger.

Despite his young age, Michael was proud, probably too proud to beg for food, perhaps surviving on discarded leftovers.

While these were just speculations, they felt very real to Betty.

Betty's heart ached as she considered these possibilities, her hands softly exploring Michael's now slimmer abdomen, reflecting on the hardships he must have endured.

Her touch was gentle, filled with a mix of concern and a deep-seated desire to protect and provide for him.