As I bent over to do the laundry, a man suddenly pressed himself against me from behind, thrusting me forward into the washing machine. My hips were left exposed to the open air, held firmly in the grasp of his hands. I was trapped, unable to move.

His large hands roamed freely over my body, sending waves of heat coursing through me against my will. Pleasure shuddered through my limbs, making my legs tremble uncontrollably.

When I finally managed to look back, I saw—to my shock—that the man behind me was my father-in-law.

My husband had been away on a business trip these past few days, so I had gathered up the pile of dirty laundry at home to wash.

Bent over, I loaded a stack of clothes into the drum. Suddenly, a forceful push against my hips sent my entire upper body tumbling into the washer, trapping me with only the twin curves of my hips visible outside.

I had been wearing only a loose nightgown at home, my white underwear faintly visible beneath.

Who could this be? My mind raced through countless possibilities, but I couldn't be sure.

A sense of unease crept in. I never expected the person behind me to be so bold—his rough hands gripping my slender waist, roaming over my body from top to bottom, stirring sensations in my long-neglected form until every touch felt intensely sensitive.

I struggled desperately, trying to shake off those large hands, but to my shock, the person behind pressed himself tightly against me! His lower body was now firmly aligned with my most private area.

"Let me out now!"

I braced my hands against the washer, my exposed bottom twisting helplessly, but I couldn't free myself.

I could feel the hardening shape pressed against me through the fabric, rubbing persistently against that sensitive spot until my whole body tingled. A fire seemed to ignite low in my belly, and a damp warmth began to gather below.

Sensing the danger, I pushed back with all my strength, trying to retreat from the machine. But instead, I ended up pressing right against him. That massive part of him had somehow freed itself from his pants and now pressed insistently against my panties, poised and ready. My backward movement seemed to catch him off guard, and he thrust forward instinctively.

"Mmm… don't…"

The sensation nearly overwhelmed me, my legs trembling involuntarily. I tried desperately to squirm deeper into the washer, to escape his body. But with every inch I retreated, he pressed forward, until I had nowhere left to go.

"What are you doing… Ah, please stop…" I pleaded in fright, yet my voice betrayed me, growing increasingly sweet and breathy.

Encouraged by my reaction, he held me firmly in place, lifting my lower body almost completely off the ground.

"Why are you wearing so little at home, Scarlett? Let me give you a hand."

What?! The man behind me was actually my father-in-law!

My ears burned with shame, my entire body flushed and restless with heat.

A memory surfaced—when I had first married into the family, I'd seen my father-in-law in shorts, unable to conceal his considerable size… And I'd often noticed my stockings in the bathroom would mysteriously end up soiled.

Could it have been him? Had he taken them?

The man behind me was in his fifties, yet his raw strength rivaled that of a man twenty years younger, stirring in me a pleasure I'd never known before.

The fire of desire threatened to consume my reason. Clinging to my crumbling resolve, I begged him tearfully to stop, fighting against the maddening itch coursing through my body.

"No, no, please put me down… Ah!" I pleaded frantically, but as he thrust again, I couldn't suppress a moan—a sound that filled me with shame.

My father-in-law relaxed his hips, allowing my feet to finally touch the floor.

Just as I began to breathe a sigh of relief, his arms tightened around me again. Instantly, that torturous itching returned as his hands roamed freely over my body, both teasing and tormenting me.

Then, in one swift move, he lifted my nightgown.

"Scarlett, how did your panties get so wet? Let me help you take them off."

Damn it, he saw everything. I wished I could vanish into the ground.

I strained backward, but his broad palm pressed firmly against my hips, leaving me no room to pull away.

His fingers slid downward, easing the fabric away.

I was laid bare before his eyes.

My father-in-law gulped, a low murmur of appreciation escaping his lips. "So tender… I've never seen such a delicate pink."

I stifled a moan that threatened to break free, tension coiling within me as I instinctively clenched my thighs together. But his hands pried them firmly apart, leaving nothing to his imagination.

"You're so fucking wet… I'm thirsty. Let me have a taste, alright?"

My heart lurched—what was he trying to do?!

Before I could react, a warm, wet softness pressed against my clit, tracing slow, deliberate circles there. A bolt of pure pleasure erupted through me, setting my blood ablaze and every cell alight.

My eyes flew open as my body trembled violently. I fought to break free, yet my muscles quivered with yearning, aching for more against my will.

But he was my father-in-law! I choked back the rising itch in my throat, battling the sensation with every shred of will.

My legs shook uncontrollably, my hips quivering with the force of it.

Desire surged, threatening to shatter me from within.

"No… We can't. We can't do this." The last sliver of my sanity screamed. I could never do this with my father-in-law!

I thrashed wildly, desperate to escape. But my upper body was shoved deep into the washing machine, leaving me powerless. Only my legs flailed behind me, kicking aimlessly, trying to break his grip.

He seized my calves and wedged my knees into the machine's drum.

Now I knelt folded inside the washer, my hips fully exposed and vulnerable. Every possibility of struggle was gone. I was utterly at his mercy.

His hands caressed the curve of my backside. "Hush now, Scarlett. What if someone hears and comes in? How would you explain… this?"

It struck me then—I couldn't let anyone see me like this. Shame sharpened every sensation, and I realized with despair that my body was slipping beyond my control.

He enveloped me completely—warm, slick, relentless—each wave of pleasure numbing my senses further.

A deep, crawling ache spread through my bones, desire pounding against my flesh, flooding my mind.

"Ahhnn—!" At last, my restraint shattered. Pleasure tore through me.

I told myself to stop, but my voice betrayed me. Soft moans spilled from my lips. My body, honest and greedy, reveled in the rapture.

Trapped inside the washing machine, I couldn't move. That maddening itch between my legs crept deeper, relentless as ants burrowing. My hands were bound, unable to reach, scratch, or relieve. All I could do was endure the torturous tingling as my body trembled with need.

"Dan, please… stop. It's too much," I begged.

Trapped and helpless, I felt as if a thousand ants were swarming beneath my skin.

"Scarlett, don't you need me to ease that itch for you?"

"No… ah—we mustn't…"My mother-in-law is still in the bedroom. What if she comes out and sees us…

I resisted weakly, but my strength was failing.

Then he knelt behind me. Through the haze of sensation, I felt a thick, firm presence aligning itself, poised to plunge deep into my very core.