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Incest A Bed - So Cozy
- Thread starter aku4incest2
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Update 1
Neha and Avinash grew up in a cramped middle-class apartment in the bustling heart of Mumbai, where space was a luxury they couldn't afford. Their parents, both working long hours at modest jobs, left the siblings to share a single room with a narrow double bed that barely fit their bodies side by side.
At 27, Neha was the responsible elder sister, juggling a job as a receptionist while helping with household chores. Avinash, her 22-year-old brother, was still in college studying engineering with dreams bigger than their family's budget. Neha saw him as the innocent younger brother she'd always protected—playful, a bit lazy, but harmless.
Every morning Neha's routine was a quiet ritual of efficiency and care. She woke at the crack of dawn, the first light filtering through the thin curtains, before the city fully stirred. Slipping out from under the worn sheet without a sound, she padded to the tiny attached bathroom, her bare feet cool on the tiled floor. There, she splashed water on her face, brushed her long black hair until it gleamed, and changed into her simple salwar kameez for the day ahead. The kameez hugged her full figure modestly, the fabric soft against her skin, while the salwar pants draped loosely around her hips. She moved with deliberate quietness, assuming Avinash was still deep in innocent slumber, his face boyish and relaxed.
Avinash, half-asleep in those early moments, began to notice her more acutely. The bed's small size meant he felt every shift as she rose, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight. Through slitted eyes, he'd catch glimpses of her silhouette in the dim light: the sway of her hips as she walked to the bathroom, the way her kameez outlined the curve of her breasts when she bent to pick up her slippers. Her presence lingered in the air—a faint floral scent from her soap, the warmth she left on the sheets. At first, it was just awareness, a subconscious pull. But over days, it stirred something deeper in him, an attraction he couldn't name, watching her routine from the haze of sleep. Her movements, so graceful and routine, ignited a forbidden curiosity in his half-awake mind, making his body respond with a warmth he quickly dismissed.
The first humid summer night, a power outage hit, turning the room into a stifling cocoon. Neha lay on her side, facing away, her breathing steady as exhaustion claimed her. The narrow bed forced their bodies close; Avinash shifted in discomfort from the heat, his knee accidentally brushing against the back of her thigh through her thin cotton night salwar. The contact was brief, warm skin against fabric, but it sent a jolt through him, his cock twitching slightly in his shorts as the forbidden proximity built an unspoken tension. He froze, heart pounding with sudden fear—what if she woke? Guilt washed over him immediately; this was his sister, the one who'd always cared for him. He should pull away, respect the boundary. But the heat of her body lingered on his skin, a soft pressure that stirred his arousal further, the air thick with humid silence broken only by distant traffic hums. Nervously, he hesitated, telling himself it was nothing, just the small bed's curse, his breath shallow as he finally rolled back, forcing sleep to come amid the throbbing ache.
Neha felt the brush in her light doze, a fleeting touch she attributed to the bed's confines. Inner conflict stirred briefly—was it intentional? No, Avinash was just a boy, clumsy in sleep. Guilt pricked at her for even thinking it; she was the elder, protector. She decided to ignore it, but a subtle warmth spread in her core, indecisiveness rooting her in place as she drifted off again.
Neha and Avinash grew up in a cramped middle-class apartment in the bustling heart of Mumbai, where space was a luxury they couldn't afford. Their parents, both working long hours at modest jobs, left the siblings to share a single room with a narrow double bed that barely fit their bodies side by side.
At 27, Neha was the responsible elder sister, juggling a job as a receptionist while helping with household chores. Avinash, her 22-year-old brother, was still in college studying engineering with dreams bigger than their family's budget. Neha saw him as the innocent younger brother she'd always protected—playful, a bit lazy, but harmless.
Every morning Neha's routine was a quiet ritual of efficiency and care. She woke at the crack of dawn, the first light filtering through the thin curtains, before the city fully stirred. Slipping out from under the worn sheet without a sound, she padded to the tiny attached bathroom, her bare feet cool on the tiled floor. There, she splashed water on her face, brushed her long black hair until it gleamed, and changed into her simple salwar kameez for the day ahead. The kameez hugged her full figure modestly, the fabric soft against her skin, while the salwar pants draped loosely around her hips. She moved with deliberate quietness, assuming Avinash was still deep in innocent slumber, his face boyish and relaxed.
Avinash, half-asleep in those early moments, began to notice her more acutely. The bed's small size meant he felt every shift as she rose, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight. Through slitted eyes, he'd catch glimpses of her silhouette in the dim light: the sway of her hips as she walked to the bathroom, the way her kameez outlined the curve of her breasts when she bent to pick up her slippers. Her presence lingered in the air—a faint floral scent from her soap, the warmth she left on the sheets. At first, it was just awareness, a subconscious pull. But over days, it stirred something deeper in him, an attraction he couldn't name, watching her routine from the haze of sleep. Her movements, so graceful and routine, ignited a forbidden curiosity in his half-awake mind, making his body respond with a warmth he quickly dismissed.
The first humid summer night, a power outage hit, turning the room into a stifling cocoon. Neha lay on her side, facing away, her breathing steady as exhaustion claimed her. The narrow bed forced their bodies close; Avinash shifted in discomfort from the heat, his knee accidentally brushing against the back of her thigh through her thin cotton night salwar. The contact was brief, warm skin against fabric, but it sent a jolt through him, his cock twitching slightly in his shorts as the forbidden proximity built an unspoken tension. He froze, heart pounding with sudden fear—what if she woke? Guilt washed over him immediately; this was his sister, the one who'd always cared for him. He should pull away, respect the boundary. But the heat of her body lingered on his skin, a soft pressure that stirred his arousal further, the air thick with humid silence broken only by distant traffic hums. Nervously, he hesitated, telling himself it was nothing, just the small bed's curse, his breath shallow as he finally rolled back, forcing sleep to come amid the throbbing ache.
Neha felt the brush in her light doze, a fleeting touch she attributed to the bed's confines. Inner conflict stirred briefly—was it intentional? No, Avinash was just a boy, clumsy in sleep. Guilt pricked at her for even thinking it; she was the elder, protector. She decided to ignore it, but a subtle warmth spread in her core, indecisiveness rooting her in place as she drifted off again.
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Update 2
Morning brought awkwardness like the humidity. Neha served breakfast, movements precise but eyes avoiding his. Avinash sat at the small table, rubbing sleep from his eyes, forcing a casual "Good morning, Didi" that came out too loud. She nodded, plating his parathas with a tight smile. "Slept well?" she asked, voice neutral.
"Yeah, that bed's too small—kept bumping into you. Sorry!" The humor fell flat, his cheeks warming as her gaze flickered away.
The second night, the heat persisted, and Neha turned onto her back in uneasy rest, the sheet tangled around her legs. Avinash lay beside her, the bed's narrowness pressing his arm against her side. As he adjusted, his hand slipped, palm landing accidentally on her arm over the kameez. The fabric was warm from her body heat, her soft skin yielding slightly under the unintended pressure. Fear gripped him instantly—pull away, this isn't right. Guilt clawed at his chest; he hesitated, fingers twitching, anticipation building as his cock stirred against the mattress. The silence amplified every breath. He retracted after a lingering second, the withdrawal leaving him aching.
Neha's eyes snapped open briefly at the touch, her mind reeling. It felt deliberate this time. Moral outrage bubbled—stop this now. But indecisiveness paralyzed her; growing desire flickered, a heat building between her thighs. She feigned deeper sleep, guilt heavy as she decided against moving.
Breakfast was strained. "Hot night, huh?" Avinash tried, voice cracking.
"Yes, the bed feels smaller every day," she replied forcedly.
Morning brought awkwardness like the humidity. Neha served breakfast, movements precise but eyes avoiding his. Avinash sat at the small table, rubbing sleep from his eyes, forcing a casual "Good morning, Didi" that came out too loud. She nodded, plating his parathas with a tight smile. "Slept well?" she asked, voice neutral.
"Yeah, that bed's too small—kept bumping into you. Sorry!" The humor fell flat, his cheeks warming as her gaze flickered away.
The second night, the heat persisted, and Neha turned onto her back in uneasy rest, the sheet tangled around her legs. Avinash lay beside her, the bed's narrowness pressing his arm against her side. As he adjusted, his hand slipped, palm landing accidentally on her arm over the kameez. The fabric was warm from her body heat, her soft skin yielding slightly under the unintended pressure. Fear gripped him instantly—pull away, this isn't right. Guilt clawed at his chest; he hesitated, fingers twitching, anticipation building as his cock stirred against the mattress. The silence amplified every breath. He retracted after a lingering second, the withdrawal leaving him aching.
Neha's eyes snapped open briefly at the touch, her mind reeling. It felt deliberate this time. Moral outrage bubbled—stop this now. But indecisiveness paralyzed her; growing desire flickered, a heat building between her thighs. She feigned deeper sleep, guilt heavy as she decided against moving.
Breakfast was strained. "Hot night, huh?" Avinash tried, voice cracking.
"Yes, the bed feels smaller every day," she replied forcedly.
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Update 3
The third night, thunder rumbled distantly. Neha curled on her side again. Avinash, restless, let his hand press against her waist over the kameez 'by mistake' as he turned, the contact more sustained, his cock now throbbing faintly against her ass through their clothes. It was still accidental in his mind, but hesitation crept in—should he shift away? Fear of waking her, guilt for enjoying the slide of fabric on skin. Yet the heat from her waist radiated; anticipation built as his body responded, cock hardening slightly against her soft curve. Urges won; he lingered, fingers lightly tracing the curve before pulling back slowly.
Neha sensed the press, longer this time, stirring inner turmoil, the throb against her ass sending unwelcome sparks through her. Guilt flooded—he's innocent. But the moral struggle intensified; she decided to roll away tomorrow, yet indecisiveness held her, a longing warmth spreading, making her pussy tingle faintly.
At breakfast, the heaviness was palpable. "You okay, Didi? You look tired."
"Just the heat. Pass the salt?"
The fourth night, transitions blurred. Neha lay facing away; as he 'adjusted,' his hand slid under the edge of her kameez slightly, fingers brushing her bare belly skin. Fear surged—this is too close, stop. Guilt for the thrill, nervousness in his quickened breath. But restraint faltered; the anticipation of her soft, warm flesh overpowered, his fingers hesitating, circling lightly as his cock throbbed insistently against her ass, the tension coiling tighter with each circle, the room's humidity amplifying the slick sound of skin on skin. He withdrew after what felt like an eternity, cock aching painfully.
Neha felt the bare touch, conflict raging. Decide to speak up, her mind urged. Yet growing desire made her body still, indecisive, guilt mixing with the slow burn of arousal in her core, a soft sigh escaping her lips involuntarily.
The fifth night marked the shift to hesitant intentionality. Neha on her back, Avinash waited until her breathing deepened. Heart hammering with fear, he extended his hand deliberately but lightly, letting his fingers brush her breast over the kameez. Guilt screamed—she's your sister. Nervousness made him tremble. But urges surged; he let it rest there, feeling the soft swell yield, thumb grazing the outline as her nipple hardened under his touch, his cock pressing firmly against her side, throbbing with each graze. He retreated, leaving the air thick with unsaid want.
Neha woke to the brush, inner conflict peaking. Stop him, guilt demanded. Indecisiveness rooted her; desire grew, her nipples tightening, body betraying with heat. She lay motionless, a quiet whimper suppressed.
The sixth night, escalation subtle. Avinash's hand slipped under her kameez to her breast over the bra, hesitating with fear—what if she reacts? Guilt gnawed. Anticipation built as he squeezed lightly, savoring the lace-covered mound, feeling the nipple harden faintly, his cock throbbing against her ass as he shifted closer, the rhythmic pulse adding to the tension before he pulled away.
Neha's struggle deepened; guilt for not stopping. Indecisive, she pretended sleep, pussy dampening under the salwar, unease making her clench her fists.
The seventh night, bolder yet hesitant. His fingers slid under her kameez again, this time under the bra to cup her bare breast, tracing the underside. Fear paralyzing—stop now. Guilt heavy, but heat from her skin overpowered. He cupped gently, thumb grazing the nipple until it pebbled, his cock pressing and throbbing insistently against her ass. A low groan nearly escaped before he retreated.
Neha felt the intimate cup, conflict tearing—confront or yield? Desire won indecisively, nipple hardening further, guilt mixing with arousal, a soft moan stifled by biting her lip.
The eighth night, further intimacy. Hand back under kameez, he fumbled with her bra hook, unclasping it with trembling fingers to expose both breasts. Fear intense—she might wake. Guilt twisted, but the feel of her bare nipples drove him; he pinched them softly, rolling between fingers until they stiffened, his cock throbbing hard against her ass, soft wet sounds from his pre-cum-soaked shorts before withdrawing, re-hooking clumsily.
Neha's moral struggle: Stop it, yet body responded, nipples aching pleasurably, desire growing, her breasts heaving subtly, inner guilt warring with the illicit thrill. Indecisiveness silenced her.
The ninth night, Avinash's fingers trembled as he rubbed over the waistband of her salwar, dipping just under the string but not further, tracing the edge of her panty line, his cock throbbing against her ass with increasing urgency. Fear choking him—too far. Guilt screamed. But urges prevailed, fingers exploring the soft skin there briefly before retreat.
Neha clenched her thighs instinctively at the tease, guilt crashing—this is incest. Moral struggle raged, but indecisiveness held her still, desire blooming as her pussy throbbed faintly, a quiet gasp escaping.
The tenth night, advancing. He slid his hand fully under the salwar waistband, rubbing her pussy over the panty fabric, the cotton warm and slightly damp. Pressing gently, circling the mound, feeling the heat radiate, his cock pressing and throbbing against her ass, the dual sensations building unbearable tension, soft slick sounds from her growing wetness. He rubbed in slow circles until she shifted subtly, then stopped, arousal agonizing.
Neha's body betrayed her, hips tilting ever so slightly; guilt screamed betrayal of family bonds, but desire overrode, indecisive whispers yielding to the building ache, her clit pulsing.
The eleventh night, three days before his birthday. Avinash's touches grew more insistent. Hand roaming under kameez to pinch nipples again, then down to loosen her salwar string, fingers dipping to touch her pussy over panty more boldly, his cock throbbing hard against her ass.
Suddenly, Neha's hand shot out angrily, throwing his wrist away with force. "Avinash, what the hell are you doing?" she hissed in the dark, voice low but fierce.
Fear exploded in him—he froze. "D-Didi, I... I'm sorry, it was a dream, please don't tell anyone." Guilt crashed, he pulled back fully, curling into himself.
Neha turned away sharply, silence falling heavy, her body still humming with unwanted arousal, tears pricking her eyes.
The third night, thunder rumbled distantly. Neha curled on her side again. Avinash, restless, let his hand press against her waist over the kameez 'by mistake' as he turned, the contact more sustained, his cock now throbbing faintly against her ass through their clothes. It was still accidental in his mind, but hesitation crept in—should he shift away? Fear of waking her, guilt for enjoying the slide of fabric on skin. Yet the heat from her waist radiated; anticipation built as his body responded, cock hardening slightly against her soft curve. Urges won; he lingered, fingers lightly tracing the curve before pulling back slowly.
Neha sensed the press, longer this time, stirring inner turmoil, the throb against her ass sending unwelcome sparks through her. Guilt flooded—he's innocent. But the moral struggle intensified; she decided to roll away tomorrow, yet indecisiveness held her, a longing warmth spreading, making her pussy tingle faintly.
At breakfast, the heaviness was palpable. "You okay, Didi? You look tired."
"Just the heat. Pass the salt?"
The fourth night, transitions blurred. Neha lay facing away; as he 'adjusted,' his hand slid under the edge of her kameez slightly, fingers brushing her bare belly skin. Fear surged—this is too close, stop. Guilt for the thrill, nervousness in his quickened breath. But restraint faltered; the anticipation of her soft, warm flesh overpowered, his fingers hesitating, circling lightly as his cock throbbed insistently against her ass, the tension coiling tighter with each circle, the room's humidity amplifying the slick sound of skin on skin. He withdrew after what felt like an eternity, cock aching painfully.
Neha felt the bare touch, conflict raging. Decide to speak up, her mind urged. Yet growing desire made her body still, indecisive, guilt mixing with the slow burn of arousal in her core, a soft sigh escaping her lips involuntarily.
The fifth night marked the shift to hesitant intentionality. Neha on her back, Avinash waited until her breathing deepened. Heart hammering with fear, he extended his hand deliberately but lightly, letting his fingers brush her breast over the kameez. Guilt screamed—she's your sister. Nervousness made him tremble. But urges surged; he let it rest there, feeling the soft swell yield, thumb grazing the outline as her nipple hardened under his touch, his cock pressing firmly against her side, throbbing with each graze. He retreated, leaving the air thick with unsaid want.
Neha woke to the brush, inner conflict peaking. Stop him, guilt demanded. Indecisiveness rooted her; desire grew, her nipples tightening, body betraying with heat. She lay motionless, a quiet whimper suppressed.
The sixth night, escalation subtle. Avinash's hand slipped under her kameez to her breast over the bra, hesitating with fear—what if she reacts? Guilt gnawed. Anticipation built as he squeezed lightly, savoring the lace-covered mound, feeling the nipple harden faintly, his cock throbbing against her ass as he shifted closer, the rhythmic pulse adding to the tension before he pulled away.
Neha's struggle deepened; guilt for not stopping. Indecisive, she pretended sleep, pussy dampening under the salwar, unease making her clench her fists.
The seventh night, bolder yet hesitant. His fingers slid under her kameez again, this time under the bra to cup her bare breast, tracing the underside. Fear paralyzing—stop now. Guilt heavy, but heat from her skin overpowered. He cupped gently, thumb grazing the nipple until it pebbled, his cock pressing and throbbing insistently against her ass. A low groan nearly escaped before he retreated.
Neha felt the intimate cup, conflict tearing—confront or yield? Desire won indecisively, nipple hardening further, guilt mixing with arousal, a soft moan stifled by biting her lip.
The eighth night, further intimacy. Hand back under kameez, he fumbled with her bra hook, unclasping it with trembling fingers to expose both breasts. Fear intense—she might wake. Guilt twisted, but the feel of her bare nipples drove him; he pinched them softly, rolling between fingers until they stiffened, his cock throbbing hard against her ass, soft wet sounds from his pre-cum-soaked shorts before withdrawing, re-hooking clumsily.
Neha's moral struggle: Stop it, yet body responded, nipples aching pleasurably, desire growing, her breasts heaving subtly, inner guilt warring with the illicit thrill. Indecisiveness silenced her.
The ninth night, Avinash's fingers trembled as he rubbed over the waistband of her salwar, dipping just under the string but not further, tracing the edge of her panty line, his cock throbbing against her ass with increasing urgency. Fear choking him—too far. Guilt screamed. But urges prevailed, fingers exploring the soft skin there briefly before retreat.
Neha clenched her thighs instinctively at the tease, guilt crashing—this is incest. Moral struggle raged, but indecisiveness held her still, desire blooming as her pussy throbbed faintly, a quiet gasp escaping.
The tenth night, advancing. He slid his hand fully under the salwar waistband, rubbing her pussy over the panty fabric, the cotton warm and slightly damp. Pressing gently, circling the mound, feeling the heat radiate, his cock pressing and throbbing against her ass, the dual sensations building unbearable tension, soft slick sounds from her growing wetness. He rubbed in slow circles until she shifted subtly, then stopped, arousal agonizing.
Neha's body betrayed her, hips tilting ever so slightly; guilt screamed betrayal of family bonds, but desire overrode, indecisive whispers yielding to the building ache, her clit pulsing.
The eleventh night, three days before his birthday. Avinash's touches grew more insistent. Hand roaming under kameez to pinch nipples again, then down to loosen her salwar string, fingers dipping to touch her pussy over panty more boldly, his cock throbbing hard against her ass.
Suddenly, Neha's hand shot out angrily, throwing his wrist away with force. "Avinash, what the hell are you doing?" she hissed in the dark, voice low but fierce.
Fear exploded in him—he froze. "D-Didi, I... I'm sorry, it was a dream, please don't tell anyone." Guilt crashed, he pulled back fully, curling into himself.
Neha turned away sharply, silence falling heavy, her body still humming with unwanted arousal, tears pricking her eyes.
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Update 4
The next two nights, no touches. Guilt consumed Avinash—he'd crossed the line. Neha lay tense, moral victory bitter; desire lingered despite anger.
His birthday morning, Neha set out his favorite sweets quietly. "Happy birthday, Bhai." Her voice softened slightly.
"Thanks, Didi—best gift is your cake," he mumbled, a subtle thaw in her tone.
That birthday night, after the subdued celebration, the room dark and expectant. Avinash hesitated longer than ever, fear still raw, but urges stirred despite consequences. He reached out tentatively, hand sliding over her kameez to press her breasts through the fabric, squeezing gently as his cock throbbed against her side, her nipples hardening visibly under the thin cotton.
His hands moved down gradually, tracing her belly over the kameez, fingers fumbling at her salwar strings, tugging them loose with trembling anticipation. Suddenly, her hand came down—his heart seized in fright—but the string was already opened, and to his shock, rather than pushing his hand away, she guided it inside her panties, pressing his fingers against her slick, bare pussy, then closed her eyes with a soft sigh, her body arching subtly into the touch.
Excitement surged through him like fire, banishing the fear. He turned her onto her side facing him, hand delving deeper into her wet folds, rubbing her clit in slow circles as she gasped quietly, his other arm pulling her closer. He leaned in, lips brushing just above her cleavage, kissing the soft swell there with lingering heat, tasting her skin's salty warmth, before moving up to capture her lips in a very long kiss—their first, tentative at first, mouths parting slowly as tongues met in hesitant exploration, deepening into a passionate tangle, breaths mingling in hot gasps, the kiss stretching on endlessly as his fingers pumped inside her, her moans vibrating into his mouth, the forbidden intimacy sealing the night's surrender.
The next two nights, no touches. Guilt consumed Avinash—he'd crossed the line. Neha lay tense, moral victory bitter; desire lingered despite anger.
His birthday morning, Neha set out his favorite sweets quietly. "Happy birthday, Bhai." Her voice softened slightly.
"Thanks, Didi—best gift is your cake," he mumbled, a subtle thaw in her tone.
That birthday night, after the subdued celebration, the room dark and expectant. Avinash hesitated longer than ever, fear still raw, but urges stirred despite consequences. He reached out tentatively, hand sliding over her kameez to press her breasts through the fabric, squeezing gently as his cock throbbed against her side, her nipples hardening visibly under the thin cotton.
His hands moved down gradually, tracing her belly over the kameez, fingers fumbling at her salwar strings, tugging them loose with trembling anticipation. Suddenly, her hand came down—his heart seized in fright—but the string was already opened, and to his shock, rather than pushing his hand away, she guided it inside her panties, pressing his fingers against her slick, bare pussy, then closed her eyes with a soft sigh, her body arching subtly into the touch.
Excitement surged through him like fire, banishing the fear. He turned her onto her side facing him, hand delving deeper into her wet folds, rubbing her clit in slow circles as she gasped quietly, his other arm pulling her closer. He leaned in, lips brushing just above her cleavage, kissing the soft swell there with lingering heat, tasting her skin's salty warmth, before moving up to capture her lips in a very long kiss—their first, tentative at first, mouths parting slowly as tongues met in hesitant exploration, deepening into a passionate tangle, breaths mingling in hot gasps, the kiss stretching on endlessly as his fingers pumped inside her, her moans vibrating into his mouth, the forbidden intimacy sealing the night's surrender.
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Update 5
The nights blurred in anticipation; parents away for the weekend. Saturday night, Neha lay pretending to sleep, her body tense with a mix of guilt and desire. Avinash, emboldened yet hesitant, began as before—his hand slipping over her kameez to cup her breast through the fabric, thumb circling the hardening nipple, his cock throbbing against her ass. He progressed slowly: sliding under the kameez to tease over her bra, then unhooking it to pinch and roll her bare nipples until she bit her lip to stifle moans, her pretense cracking with subtle arches.
Lower now, fingers tracing her waistband, dipping under to rub her pussy over panties, feeling the dampness grow, then pushing the fabric aside to delve directly into her slick folds, pumping rhythmically as wet sounds filled the quiet, her hips tilting involuntarily. Culminating the pattern, he spread her thighs wider, mouth descending to lick and suck her clit with fervent hunger, tongue exploring every fold until she shuddered in a stifled orgasm, no longer able to feign sleep, her hands threading into his hair with a whispered "Bhai... yes..."
Neha's heart pounded, moral struggle final—this is forever changed. Guilt heavy, but desire won, kissing back hungrily, body aching for more. "Bhai... touch me more..."
Slowly, he removed clothes one by one: untying her salwar string, sliding pants down her legs, exposing her glistening pussy; lifting kameez over her head, unhooking bra to free her heavy breasts. Fingering and foreplay intensified—fingers delving deep, curling inside her wet heat with squelching sounds, thumb on clit, while he kissed and licked her pussy, tongue flicking her folds, sucking her clit until she arched with cries of "Ahh... yes... oh god," tension coiling tighter.
To soothe her anticipated pain, he fetched oil from the bathroom and a bowl of hot water, dipping a cloth to gently wipe and massage her entrance, the warmth relaxing her muscles, oil slicking his fingers and cock. "This will help, Didi," he whispered, eyes locked in emotional intensity.
He positioned between her legs, cock hard and throbbing at her entrance, slick with her arousal and oil. Nervousness made him pause, "It might hurt," he breathed.
She cupped his face, "Slowly, Bhai—I'm ready."
Inch by inch, he pushed in, her virgin pussy stretching around his girth, walls gripping tightly in a mix of pain and pleasure. A sharp gasp escaped her—"Ahh! It hurts..."—as a warm trickle of blood emerged, mingling with her wetness on the sheets. She closed her eyes in pain, wincing with small whimpers, but accepted, nodding for him to continue.
Gently, he pulled out slowly, his cock glistening with her arousal and the faint trace of blood. He leaned down, tongue lapping at the trickle sensually, tasting the metallic tang mixed with her essence, drawing it into his mouth with slow, deliberate licks that made her shiver and moan softly, turning the moment into one of intimate reverence. Then, with tender care, he rubbed the head of his cock against her swollen pussy lips, sliding up and down the slick folds to soothe the sting, coating himself further in her wetness until her whimpers softened into sighs of relief.
Only then did he reposition and reenter, inch by inch again, smoother now, the pain fading faster into fullness. Thrusts began slow, sensual, bodies finding rhythm—his hips rolling deep and deliberate, each push eliciting pain sounds from her at first—"Ouch... ahh..."—then morphing to pleasure as she adjusted, enjoying gradually, moans growing louder, "Mmm... deeper, Bhai... it feels good now..." Heat built, sweat-slick skin sliding, anticipation cresting in unfeigned moans. Emotional waves crashed; whispers of love and taboo desire, guilt fading to raw connection amid the slow burn of their union. Climax hit together—her pussy spasming with a cry of "I'm coming... ahhh!", milking him as he buried deep, cum flooding her in hot spurts, bodies shuddering in release, grunts from him mixing with her gasps.
The nights blurred in anticipation; parents away for the weekend. Saturday night, Neha lay pretending to sleep, her body tense with a mix of guilt and desire. Avinash, emboldened yet hesitant, began as before—his hand slipping over her kameez to cup her breast through the fabric, thumb circling the hardening nipple, his cock throbbing against her ass. He progressed slowly: sliding under the kameez to tease over her bra, then unhooking it to pinch and roll her bare nipples until she bit her lip to stifle moans, her pretense cracking with subtle arches.
Lower now, fingers tracing her waistband, dipping under to rub her pussy over panties, feeling the dampness grow, then pushing the fabric aside to delve directly into her slick folds, pumping rhythmically as wet sounds filled the quiet, her hips tilting involuntarily. Culminating the pattern, he spread her thighs wider, mouth descending to lick and suck her clit with fervent hunger, tongue exploring every fold until she shuddered in a stifled orgasm, no longer able to feign sleep, her hands threading into his hair with a whispered "Bhai... yes..."
Neha's heart pounded, moral struggle final—this is forever changed. Guilt heavy, but desire won, kissing back hungrily, body aching for more. "Bhai... touch me more..."
Slowly, he removed clothes one by one: untying her salwar string, sliding pants down her legs, exposing her glistening pussy; lifting kameez over her head, unhooking bra to free her heavy breasts. Fingering and foreplay intensified—fingers delving deep, curling inside her wet heat with squelching sounds, thumb on clit, while he kissed and licked her pussy, tongue flicking her folds, sucking her clit until she arched with cries of "Ahh... yes... oh god," tension coiling tighter.
To soothe her anticipated pain, he fetched oil from the bathroom and a bowl of hot water, dipping a cloth to gently wipe and massage her entrance, the warmth relaxing her muscles, oil slicking his fingers and cock. "This will help, Didi," he whispered, eyes locked in emotional intensity.
He positioned between her legs, cock hard and throbbing at her entrance, slick with her arousal and oil. Nervousness made him pause, "It might hurt," he breathed.
She cupped his face, "Slowly, Bhai—I'm ready."
Inch by inch, he pushed in, her virgin pussy stretching around his girth, walls gripping tightly in a mix of pain and pleasure. A sharp gasp escaped her—"Ahh! It hurts..."—as a warm trickle of blood emerged, mingling with her wetness on the sheets. She closed her eyes in pain, wincing with small whimpers, but accepted, nodding for him to continue.
Gently, he pulled out slowly, his cock glistening with her arousal and the faint trace of blood. He leaned down, tongue lapping at the trickle sensually, tasting the metallic tang mixed with her essence, drawing it into his mouth with slow, deliberate licks that made her shiver and moan softly, turning the moment into one of intimate reverence. Then, with tender care, he rubbed the head of his cock against her swollen pussy lips, sliding up and down the slick folds to soothe the sting, coating himself further in her wetness until her whimpers softened into sighs of relief.
Only then did he reposition and reenter, inch by inch again, smoother now, the pain fading faster into fullness. Thrusts began slow, sensual, bodies finding rhythm—his hips rolling deep and deliberate, each push eliciting pain sounds from her at first—"Ouch... ahh..."—then morphing to pleasure as she adjusted, enjoying gradually, moans growing louder, "Mmm... deeper, Bhai... it feels good now..." Heat built, sweat-slick skin sliding, anticipation cresting in unfeigned moans. Emotional waves crashed; whispers of love and taboo desire, guilt fading to raw connection amid the slow burn of their union. Climax hit together—her pussy spasming with a cry of "I'm coming... ahhh!", milking him as he buried deep, cum flooding her in hot spurts, bodies shuddering in release, grunts from him mixing with her gasps.
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The next morning—Sunday—dawned with the room steeped in sexual aroma, musk and sweat lingering. Neha slipped back into her routine, rising quietly to proceed to the bath, the warm water from the bucket ready in the tiny bathroom, her body still tender from the night.
But Avinash followed silently, unable to resist, stepping in behind her as she stood under the makeshift shower. He grabbed her breasts from behind over her night salwar, hugging her tightly, his hard cock pressing against her ass through his shorts, one hand dropping water from the mug over their clothes, soaking the fabric until it clung transparently to her curves, the cool droplets mixing with the heat of their bodies.
He kissed the back of her neck softly at first, then with growing hunger, lips trailing down her wet back, tasting the salty water on her skin, his hands kneading her breasts as she gasped, "Bhai... what are you..." but her voice trailed off in a moan. He moved lower, kissing all over her drenched spine, nipping gently at the small of her back, then dropping to his knees to press his mouth against her salwar over her ass, sucking through the wet cotton, feeling the firm cheeks yield, the aroma of her arousal mixing with the steam. "Ahh... don't stop..."
To his surprise, she turned suddenly, her eyes dark with renewed desire, and reached for his shorts, opening the button with trembling fingers, pulling them down along with his undies to free his throbbing cock. She sank to her knees on the wet tiles, taking him into her mouth without a word, sucking sensually—lips wrapping around the head, tongue swirling the underside as she bobbed slowly, her hands stroking the base, the sounds of slurping and his groans echoing in the small space, "Didi... oh god... your mouth..." He tangled his fingers in her wet hair, thrusting gently at first, then deeper, her gags muffled as she took more, saliva dripping down her chin. Pleasure built unbearably, his balls tightening; he pulled out just in time, releasing in hot spurts—some filling her mouth as she swallowed with a moan, the rest landing on her face in creamy streaks, mixing with the water running down her cheeks, her tongue darting out to lick what she could.
Panting, cock softening slightly in the afterglow, Avinash leaned against the wall. But Neha wasn't finished. With a wicked, breathless smile, she stood, turned her back to him, and guided him to lie on the wet floor tiles. Water still cascading over them, she straddled his face in reverse, lowering her ass until her puckered hole pressed directly over his mouth and nose. The warm, slick skin—clean from the shower but musky with arousal—ground slowly against him. She rocked her hips, rubbing her asshole teasingly over his lips and the bridge of his nose, the tight ring clenching and relaxing with each pass, her cheeks enveloping his face in soft, wet pressure. "Taste me again, Bhai… make yourself hard for me," she whispered hoarsely, grinding firmer, the sensation sending fresh blood rushing to his cock. He groaned into her, tongue darting out instinctively to circle and probe her rim, lapping at the sensitive skin as she moaned above him, her own arousal dripping down her thighs. His shaft twitched, then stiffened rapidly under the intimate teasing, hardening fully against his belly as she continued the slow, sensual rub—asshole sliding wetly over mouth and nose until he was throbbing and ready once more.
Rising with a shaky breath, she pulled him up, turned to face the wall, lifted one of her legs to hook over his arm, his cock—now rock-hard and slick—pressing at her entrance from behind. He entered her slowly, inch by inch, her pussy still sensitive and swollen from the night, stretching around him with a wet slide, "Ahh… Bhai… so full…" she whimpered, pain from the stretch mingling with pleasure as he bottomed out, holding still to let her adjust, kissing her shoulder tenderly.
Thrusts began deliberate and sensual, water splashing with each deep roll of his hips, his free hand rubbing her clit in circles, building the tension again, her moans echoing louder—"Yes… harder… fuck me…"—as she pushed back against him, the steam thick with their scents, bodies slapping wetly together. He angled to hit her spot, feeling her walls clench, her cries peaking—"I'm coming… ahhh!"—spasming around him, milking his second release as he buried deep, cum spilling inside her in pulsing waves, grunts mixing with her gasps, collapsing against the wall in shuddering afterglow, water still cascading over them.
Aftermath blurred nights into routine passion. Mornings now held stolen kisses in the kitchen, awkwardness transformed to tender tension. Their bond deepened in the cramped bed, secret encounters blending guilt's remnants with insatiable longing—oral mornings, quick fucks before work, nights of endless exploration. In one intense embrace, as he thrust slowly inside her again, Neha whispered, "We're lost in this, but I don't want to be found," tears mixing with ecstasy, her unease and indecisiveness eternal companions to their taboo love in the Mumbai heat.
But Avinash followed silently, unable to resist, stepping in behind her as she stood under the makeshift shower. He grabbed her breasts from behind over her night salwar, hugging her tightly, his hard cock pressing against her ass through his shorts, one hand dropping water from the mug over their clothes, soaking the fabric until it clung transparently to her curves, the cool droplets mixing with the heat of their bodies.
He kissed the back of her neck softly at first, then with growing hunger, lips trailing down her wet back, tasting the salty water on her skin, his hands kneading her breasts as she gasped, "Bhai... what are you..." but her voice trailed off in a moan. He moved lower, kissing all over her drenched spine, nipping gently at the small of her back, then dropping to his knees to press his mouth against her salwar over her ass, sucking through the wet cotton, feeling the firm cheeks yield, the aroma of her arousal mixing with the steam. "Ahh... don't stop..."
To his surprise, she turned suddenly, her eyes dark with renewed desire, and reached for his shorts, opening the button with trembling fingers, pulling them down along with his undies to free his throbbing cock. She sank to her knees on the wet tiles, taking him into her mouth without a word, sucking sensually—lips wrapping around the head, tongue swirling the underside as she bobbed slowly, her hands stroking the base, the sounds of slurping and his groans echoing in the small space, "Didi... oh god... your mouth..." He tangled his fingers in her wet hair, thrusting gently at first, then deeper, her gags muffled as she took more, saliva dripping down her chin. Pleasure built unbearably, his balls tightening; he pulled out just in time, releasing in hot spurts—some filling her mouth as she swallowed with a moan, the rest landing on her face in creamy streaks, mixing with the water running down her cheeks, her tongue darting out to lick what she could.
Panting, cock softening slightly in the afterglow, Avinash leaned against the wall. But Neha wasn't finished. With a wicked, breathless smile, she stood, turned her back to him, and guided him to lie on the wet floor tiles. Water still cascading over them, she straddled his face in reverse, lowering her ass until her puckered hole pressed directly over his mouth and nose. The warm, slick skin—clean from the shower but musky with arousal—ground slowly against him. She rocked her hips, rubbing her asshole teasingly over his lips and the bridge of his nose, the tight ring clenching and relaxing with each pass, her cheeks enveloping his face in soft, wet pressure. "Taste me again, Bhai… make yourself hard for me," she whispered hoarsely, grinding firmer, the sensation sending fresh blood rushing to his cock. He groaned into her, tongue darting out instinctively to circle and probe her rim, lapping at the sensitive skin as she moaned above him, her own arousal dripping down her thighs. His shaft twitched, then stiffened rapidly under the intimate teasing, hardening fully against his belly as she continued the slow, sensual rub—asshole sliding wetly over mouth and nose until he was throbbing and ready once more.
Rising with a shaky breath, she pulled him up, turned to face the wall, lifted one of her legs to hook over his arm, his cock—now rock-hard and slick—pressing at her entrance from behind. He entered her slowly, inch by inch, her pussy still sensitive and swollen from the night, stretching around him with a wet slide, "Ahh… Bhai… so full…" she whimpered, pain from the stretch mingling with pleasure as he bottomed out, holding still to let her adjust, kissing her shoulder tenderly.
Thrusts began deliberate and sensual, water splashing with each deep roll of his hips, his free hand rubbing her clit in circles, building the tension again, her moans echoing louder—"Yes… harder… fuck me…"—as she pushed back against him, the steam thick with their scents, bodies slapping wetly together. He angled to hit her spot, feeling her walls clench, her cries peaking—"I'm coming… ahhh!"—spasming around him, milking his second release as he buried deep, cum spilling inside her in pulsing waves, grunts mixing with her gasps, collapsing against the wall in shuddering afterglow, water still cascading over them.
Aftermath blurred nights into routine passion. Mornings now held stolen kisses in the kitchen, awkwardness transformed to tender tension. Their bond deepened in the cramped bed, secret encounters blending guilt's remnants with insatiable longing—oral mornings, quick fucks before work, nights of endless exploration. In one intense embrace, as he thrust slowly inside her again, Neha whispered, "We're lost in this, but I don't want to be found," tears mixing with ecstasy, her unease and indecisiveness eternal companions to their taboo love in the Mumbai heat.
miss Anita
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ghansa23
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