Incest Filling the Void with Incest
- Thread starter Nihalika
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Thank you so much, dear! I'm so happy you're enjoying the journey. The real drama is just starting to simmer, but taking the time to build these complex characters and their conflicts is so important to make it all worthwhile. I promise the exciting twists to come will be well worth the wait.
- 12
- 16
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Chapter 5 – The Incest Confession
Sonakshi closed the bathroom door behind her, her heart racing with a thrill of power. She took a deep breath to compose herself, a naughty smile of satisfaction settling on her lips as she walked back into the kitchen.
Harsh was standing by the counter, a beer in hand, his expression dark. "Where's Sameer?" (Sameer kahan hai?) he asked, his voice flat.
"Toilet," she said, her tone casual as she opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water.
Harsh's eyes narrowed. "Toilet? He's been in there a while. Weren't you just in there?" (Toilet? Woh bahut der se andar hai. Tum abhi toh wahi thi na?)
Sonakshi straightened up, unscrewing the cap of the water bottle. She gave him a look, a mixture of exasperation and seriousness. "No. When I got out, he was going in." (Nahi. Jab main bahar aai, toh woh andar ja raha tha.) She held his gaze, her own expression unwavering.
"I've been standing here for the last few minutes, Sonakshi. I didn't see him go in," (Main last few minutes se yahan khada hoon, Sonakshi. Main use andar jaate nahi dekha,) Harsh pressed, his suspicion palpable.
She let out a short, sharp laugh, but it was devoid of any real humor. "Are you losing your mind, Harsh? What do you think was happening in there? That I pulled down my leggings and my panty in front of him and peed for him to watch? Come on, have some sense. Your brain is completely fried because of that slut Bhabhi of yours." (Kya tum pagal ho rahe ho, Harsh? Tumhe kya lagta hai ki andar kya ho raha tha? Ki maine apni leggings aur panty uske saamne utaari aur uske saamne pee-pee ki? Aare, thoda sense use karo. Tumhara dimaag uski randi Bhabhi ki wajah se completely fry ho gaya hai.) She took a long drink of water, her eyes challenging him over the rim of the bottle. "Your mind is somewhere else, and so are your eyes. All you can think about is Anjali. Just go and relax for a bit. I'll bring the food and drinks." (Tumhara dimaag kahin aur hai, aur tumhare aankh bhi. Tum sirf Anjali ke baare mein soch sakte ho. Thoda relax jao. Main khana aur drinks le aati hoon.)
Just then, the bathroom door opened and Sameer walked out. He was trying to act casual, but the prominent bulge straining against the front of his jeans was a dead giveaway.
Harsh's eyes flicked down to Sameer's crotch, then back to Sonakshi's face, a slow, cynical smile spreading across his lips. "Well, well, cousin Didi," (Arre arre, cousin Didi,) he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Looks like his boner is giving him some sense." (Lagta hai uska boner use kuch sense de raha hai.)
Sonakshi didn't even flinch. She just rolled her eyes. "See? That's what I'm talking about. Your mind is in the gutter. Leave the poor boy alone." (Dekho? Main yahi keh rahi hoon. Tumhara dimaq gutter mein hai. Use akela chhod do.) She turned to Sameer, her voice softening. "Sameer, can you please finish the salad? I'll bring the drinks out to the living room." (Sameer, kya tum salad kar sakte ho? Main drinks living room mein le aati hoon.)
As Sameer nodded, still red-faced, Sonakshi grabbed the beers and walked out of the kitchen. Sameer watched her go, his eyes glued to her back. The tight blue leggings of her churidar clung to her slender frame like a second skin, and with every step, he could see the gentle, mesmerizing jiggle of her ass. It was small, and flat, similar to young girls but with a perfect, youthful curve hanging at the base of her slim thighs that made his mouth go dry.
He turned his attention back to the salad, his movements stiff and robotic. He could hear her moving around in the living room and the clink of glasses. He tried to focus on chopping the tomatoes, but his mind was a whirlwind of images from the bathroom.
Sonakshi came back into the kitchen, her hips swaying as usual, which seemed natural. As she went to the freezer to get some ice, Sameer's eyes were drawn to her ass once more. The leggings were so tight and so sheer that he could now clearly see the faint, slightly darker contour of her panty line tracing the perfect curve of her bum. It was a subtle, yet incredibly erotic detail, a secret glimpse of the lingerie hidden beneath.
She bent down to get something from a lower cabinet, squatting low on her heels. The movement was catastrophic for Sameer's self-control. The fabric of her leggings pulled taut, digging deep between her cheeks, and he could see it. The distinct, tantalizing 'W' shape of her panty, pressed tight against her legging mound. It was a fantastic, heart-stopping view, a clear outline of her most intimate place. He felt his cock, which had just started to soften, spring back to life, throbbing with a desperate need.
She stood up and turned around, a bright smile on her face. "Sameer, could you pass me the..." Her voice trailed off as she saw his eyes. She knew exactly where he was looking. A faint blush colored her cheeks, but it was quickly replaced by a sly, knowing smile. She looked away shyly, a soft giggle escaping her lips. It was a sexier sound than anything he had ever heard. "Just... bring the salad to the living room when you're done," (Bas... jab tum khatam kar lo toh salad ko living room mein le aao,) she said, her voice a little breathless. "Don't be too long." (Zyada der mat lagao.) And with that, she swayed out of the kitchen, leaving him gasping for air.
***
In the living room, Harsh was sitting on the three-seater sofa, his head in his hands.
"What's wrong now?" (Ab kya problem hai?) Sonakshi asked, her voice soft as she sat down next to him, leaving a space between them.
"Headache," (Sirf dard,) he grumbled, not looking up.
“I knew it was Anjali Bhabhi’s call,” (Mujhe pata tha ki yeh Anjali Bhabhi ka call tha,) as she shifted closer, her thigh pressing against his. "Poor baby," (Pareesa baby,) she cooed, her hand snaking under the hem of his t-shirt. Her fingers were warm against his skin as they traced lazy circles on his belly. "You made a big scene today, and now you’re paying the price." (Aaj tune bada scene banaya, aur ab tum iski keemat de rahe ho.)
He caught her wrist, his grip firm. "Stop it, Sonakshi. Not now." (Ruk jao, Sonakshi. Abhi nahi.)
"No," she whispered, pulling her hand free and placing it possessively on his belly again. "You made a promise today. You said you'd do the work." (Nahi. Tumne aaj ek wada kiya tha. Tumne kaha tha ki tum kaam karoge.) She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. "You said you'd help me put a baby in me. While you're resting, I want you to think about that. Think about my belly getting big and round with your child, my cute brother." (Tumne kaha tha ki tum mujhe baby dilane mein madad karoge. Jab tum rest kar rahe ho, toh main chahti hoon ki tum iske baare mein socho. Socho ki mera pet tumhare bacche se bada aur gol ho jaaye, mera cute brother.)
She gently pulled her hand free and lifted his shirt, exposing his chest and stomach. "You need to relax." (Tumhe relax karna hai.) She leaned down, her long dark hair falling like a curtain around his face. He felt her warm, wet tongue on his nipple, a slow, deliberate lick that sent a jolt of pleasure straight to his groin. Her saliva glistened on his skin in the dim light as his nipple hardened into a tight, sensitive peak.
Just then, Sameer walked into the living room, the bowl of salad in his hands. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes wide with shock. He saw her, bent over Harsh's body, her head nestled against his chest. He saw the way her tongue was teasing Harsh's nipple, hard and erect, just as she had teased the tip of his dick with her own tongue tip in the bathroom. The memory, combined with the sight in front of him, was almost too much to bear.
But his eyes, as if drawn by an invisible force, drifted lower, down her arched back, to her ass. Her body was resting on the sofa, balanced precariously on the side of her ass. The position pushed her two perfect, firm bums into a stunning display, right in his line of sight. He saw the deep, shadowy crack of her ass, the fabric disappearing into the dark cleft between her cheeks. And below that, where her thighs met, he could see the distinct, soft mound of her pussy entrance from behind, the fabric of her leggings pressing against it, outlining its perfect, plump shape. It was the kind of ass that he always wanted to cup in his hands, cute and small, fit for his large hand.
Harsh noticed Sameer's slack-jawed, fixed stare. A cruel, possessive smirk twisted his lips. "Sameer, my friend," (Sameer, mere dost,) he drawled, his voice a low rumble. "Stop drooling and have a beer. You might get to smell her sweet little flowers if she lets out one puff of air, but you'll never get to kiss the little rosebud button that pushes her sweet chocolate. That's a private door, and you're just a passerby.” (Drooling band karo aur ek beer lo. Agar woh hawa ka ek puff chode toh tumhe uski meethi phoolon ki mehak mil sakti hai, lekin tum kabhi uske chote rosebud button ko kiss nahi kar paoge jo uski meethi chocolate ko dhakelta hai. Yeh ek private door hai, aur tum bas ek passerby ho.)
Sonakshi's mouth formed a perfect 'O' of shock. She looked back over her shoulder and saw exactly where Sameer's eyes were glued before he could wrench them away. A hot blush of embarrassment flooded her cheeks.
She quickly sat up, pulling her ass on the seat down to hide her curves, and slapped Harsh hard on the arm. “Harsh! Oh my, that's the most disgusting thing I've ever heard! My chocolate—you're such a pig!! How can you say such disgusting things?" (Harsh! Oh mere bhagwan, yeh jo maine sunna woh ab tak ka sabse ganda baat hai! Mera chocolate—tum ek suar ho!! Tum aise gandi baatein kaise keh sakte ho?) she hissed. "We were about to eat!” (Hum khane wale the!)
Harsh just rubbed his arm, a smirk playing on his lips. "What? You're acting like you're some kind of doll who doesn't do it." (Kya? Tum aise behave kar rahi ho jaise koi gudiya ho jo yeh nahi karti.)
She slapped him again, harder this time. "It's still disgusting! You don't talk about it like that!" (Yeh abhi bhi ganda hai! Aise iske baare mein baat nahi karte!)
"Okay, okay, sorry," (Theek hai, theek hai, maafi,) he said, his voice dripping with insincerity. He grabbed a can of beer from the table, popped it open, and tilted his head back, draining the entire thing in one long, continuous flow. His Adam's apple bobbed with every gulp.
Sonakshi and Sameer stared at him, stunned. "Harsh, control yourself," (Harsh, khud ko control karo,) Sonakshi pleaded.
"I can't," (Main nahi kar sakta,) he said, slamming the empty can down on the table. He stood up, pacing restlessly. "I can't control it because of Anjali Bhabhi. That slut just phoned me and ordered me to come back home. I need something to distract me. A real distraction." (Main isliye control nahi kar sakta kyunki Anjali Bhabhi. Usne mujhe phone kiya aur mujhe ghar aane ko kaha. Mujhe kuch distraction chahiye. Ek asli distraction.)
She cursed under her breath. "Am I so bad that I couldn’t even distract you with that little nipple tease?" (Kya main itni buri hoon ki main tumhe us chote nipple tease se distract nahi kar saki?)
"For a young boy, it might have," (Ek young boy ke liye shayad ho sakta tha,) he shot back, his eyes wild. "For putting a baby in you, I need a real distraction." (Tumme baby dalne ke liye, mujhe ek asli distraction chahiye.)
She got angry, her eyes flashing. "Fine! Then I do it with Sameer!" (Theek hai! Phir main Sameer ke saath karti hoon!) she yelled, gesturing wildly at him. "Go on! Look for another lady to distract you!" (Chalo! Koi aur aurat dhundo jo tumhe distract kare!)
Harsh's lips curled into a wicked grin. "The nipple tease is good for him," (Nipple tease uske liye accha hai,) he said, looking at Sameer with a predatory glint. "The poor boy might enjoy it." (Yeh gareeb ladka shayad enjoy karega.)
Sameer felt a sharp pang of hurt, like a physical blow. He was just a pawn in their game, a toy for them to fight over.
Sonakshi saw the look on Sameer's face, a raw cocktail of humiliation, hurt, and a lingering, desperate arousal. A new, dangerous idea sparked in her eyes, a mischievous glint that was both for him and against Harsh. It was a mix of genuine pity for the sweet, awkward boy and a burning desire for revenge against the arrogant man beside her. She put on an exaggerated pout, a look of pure, childish defiance aimed directly at Harsh.
She reached out and grabbed Sameer's arm, her grip surprisingly firm. "Come here, you," (Aao, tum,) she commanded, her voice a playful purr. She pulled him down onto the sofa next to her, so close their thighs were touching. He stumbled, his body rigid with surprise, his eyes wide with confusion. Before he could even process what was happening, she hooked her fingers into the hem of his t-shirt and lifted it, revealing his dark, hairy chest. His breath hitched in his throat, a sharp, audible gasp.
She leaned in, her long, dark hair brushing against his skin, sending a shiver through his entire body. Her tongue, pink and glistening, darted out and flicked the very tip of his nipple. It was a quick, electric touch, like a tiny bolt of lightning. He gasped, his entire body tensing, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.
"Oops, did I startle you, my big, strong boy?" (Oops, maine tumhe dara diya, mere bade, strong ladke?) She cooed, her voice a husky whisper, her eyes locked on his. She did it again to tease Harsh, but this time swirling her tongue slowly, deliberately around the nub, which was already hardening under her attention. A thin, glistening trail of her saliva connected her tongue to his chest, a delicate, filthy bridge. "Look at this little soldier," (Is chote soldier ko dekho,) she teased, "standing at attention just for Bhabhi. So eager." (Sirf Bhabhi ke liye attention mein khada hai. Itna eager.)
Harsh, who had been watching with a smug grin, now leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Careful, Sonakshi," (Saavdhaan, Sonakshi,) he said, his voice a low rumble. "You might break him." (Tum use tod sakti ho.)
Sonakshi didn't even look at him. Her eyes were fixed on Sameer, devouring his every reaction. "Don’t be jealous, he's not made of glass, are you, Babu?" (Jal mat karo, woh glass ka nahi hai, na, Babu?) she said, her voice dripping with sweet condescension. "You like when Bhabhi plays, don't you?" (Tumhe pasand hai jab Bhabhi khelti hai, na?) She blew a soft stream of air onto the wet nipple, and he shuddered violently. "Your heart is beating so fast," (Tumhara dil itni tezi se beat kar raha hai,) she murmured, placing her palm flat on his chest. "I can feel it right through your skin. Poor baby, are you scared?" (Main tumhare skin se feel kar sakti hoon. Pareesa baby, kya tum dar rahe ho?)
"B-Bhabhi..." (B-Bhabhi...) he managed to choke out, his voice a hoarse, broken whisper. He felt like he was drowning, lost in the depths of her dark, teasing eyes.
"Shhh..." (Shhh...) she whispered, her finger tracing the line of his jaw. "Just feel. Let Bhabhi make it all better." (Bas feel karo. Bhabhi sab theek kar degi.) She leaned back in, but this time, she didn't just lick. She took the entire hardened nub into her mouth, her soft lips closing around it.
Harsh watched, his own arousal growing painfully obvious as he saw his friend, the shy, nerdy boy, being expertly teased by his sister, the one he was about to claim. The sight of her pink tongue against Sameer's dark skin was incredibly erotic.
He walked over to a small, ornate bar in the corner of the room, the one her husband used. He opened a cabinet and pulled out a half-full bottle of whiskey, the amber liquid sloshing ominously inside. The image of Anjali’s slap, a torment he couldn't escape, was seared into his mind. He needed something stronger than beer to dull the sharp edges of his humiliation and the throbbing ache in his groin. This is the only cure, (Yeh hi ilaaj hai,) he thought, for the sickness she gave me.
Sonakshi saw him, and her playful mood vanished, replaced by a flicker of genuine panic. "Sameer, no," (Sameer, nahi,) she said, her voice firm, a stark contrast to her earlier teasing. "Don't drink that. Remember last time on my honeymoon? You drank a whole bottle, and my husband has a nose like a bloodhound for whiskey. He questioned me for days. I had to pretend I knew nothing about the smell on our sheets. Not this time, Sameer. Please. Or my husband will think I'm bringing men home to get drunk in his absence." (Use mat piyo. Yaad hai last time mere honeymoon par? Tumne poori bottle pee li, aur mere husband ke paas whiskey ke liye ek bloodhound ki nose hai. Usne mujhe dinon tak sawaal kiya. Mujhe pretend karna pada ki maine sheets par smell ke baare mein kuch nahi jaanta. Is baar nahi, Sameer. Please. Varna mera husband sochega ki main ghar mein mardon ko drink karne ke liye laati hoon jab woh nahi hota.)
He ignored her, his movements jerky with a desperate determination. He twisted the cap off the bottle, the sound sharp and final in the tense room. He didn't bother with a glass. He brought the bottle to his lips and took two large, burning gulps, the whiskey a fire trail down his throat. His eyes, dark and intense, never left Sonakshi. He lowered the bottle, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Harsh let out a low, teasing laugh. "That's it, Sameer. Get some liquid courage in you. You're going to need it to face what's coming." (Wahi hai, Sameer. Tumme thodi liquid courage daalo. Tumhe jo aane wala hai usse face karne ke liye iski zarurat hogi.)
“Really?” (Sachchi?) He said while looking at Sameer. Then, he turned to Sonakshi. "Why are you just licking him?" (Tum bas use kyu lick kar rahi ho?) Harsh asked, his voice rough with alcohol and reckless courage. His eyes, a little wild, darted from Sonakshi to Sameer and back. "Do what you really want to do. Stop teasing him. Do it in front of me." (Jo tum sach mein karna chahti ho woh karo. Use tease mat karo. Mere saamne karo.)
Sonakshi stared at him, shocked. "What? What are you saying, Harsh? I was teasing you by playing with his nipple. It was just for fun, brother." (Kya? Kya keh rahe ho, Harsh? Main use nipple play karke tumhe tease kar rahi thi. Yeh bas mazaak tha, brother.)
Harsh laughed, a harsh, ugly sound that was pure provocation. "Come on, Sonakshi. Fun! He's already had a taste of your... 'farm' in the toilet. Why not let him milk the cow?" (Aao, Sonakshi. Mazaak! Woh already tumhare... 'farm' ka taste toilet mein le chuka hai. Kyun use cow ko milkne nahi dete?) His words were crude, designed to humiliate and excite in equal measure. "Instead of licking his nipple, why not just say you want a lick like that yourself? Stop teasing him. Get him for the job. Or are you fearing my presence, hoping I move away? I’m not your stupid husband, I understand all!" (Uske nipple ki jagah, why not bas keh do ki tumhe aisa lick chahiye? Use tease mat karo. Use kaam par lago. Ya tum mere presence se dar rahi ho, ummeed hai ki main chala jaun? Main tumhara stupid husband nahi hoon, mujhe sab samajh aata hai!)
"Harsh, what you’re saying. Nothing like that happened!" (Harsh, tum jo keh rahe ho. Aisa kuch nahi hua!) Sameer tried to intervene, his voice a weak protest.
Sonakshi was trapped. A wave of fear washed over her, cold and sharp. This was going too far. This wasn't a game anymore. To do something with his best friend, right in front of him... that wasn't just being naughty, that was being a slut. She had never pleased a man in front of another one. But a dark, treacherous thrill shot through her. He's treating me like public property, but maybe… maybe I must thank him for helping me, because a part of me loves it. I was just waiting for this moment. I need to act. Now! That's the only way to win this game. The game of convincing him to retain Sameer so that I can ultimately enjoy a threesome. My idiot brother and his stupid idea of challenging a slut like me. (Woh mujhe public property jaise treat kar raha hai, lekin shayad... shayad mujhe use shukriya karna chahiye jo isne mujhe madad ki, kyunki ek hissa mujhe yeh pasand hai. Main bas is pal ke intezar kar rahi thi. Mujhe abhi act karna hai. Yeh is game jeetne ka ek hi tareeka hai. Sameer ko rakhne ke liye use convince karne ka game taaki main aakhir mein threesome enjoy kar saku. Mera idiot brother aur uski slut jaise mujhe challenge karne ki stupid idea.)
"You think you can just order me around like some... some prostitute?" (Tum sochte ho ki tum mujhe kisi... kisi prostitute jaise order kar sakte ho?) She shot back at Harsh, making a voice that pretended to be trembling with a mix of anger. "You think this is a game? Okay, let’s play that game if you want.” (Tumhe lagta hai ki yeh ek game hai? Theek hai, chalo woh game khelte hain agar tumhe chahiye.)
With a final, defiant pout, as if accepting a dare she didn’t even propose, she made her move. She grabbed Sameer by the neck, her grip surprisingly strong, and turned his broad body towards her own slim but busty chest. He stared down at her, his eyes wide, his gaze locked on the two perfect, hard nipples clearly visible through the thin fabric of her blue blouse. He was hoping, wishing, she would remove her dress. The anticipation was a physical ache.
"Are you ready for this, my big, shy neighbor?" (Kya tum iske liye taiyaar ho, mere bade, sharmile padosan?) She whispered to Sameer, her voice a sultry, secret promise that contrasted her previous anger, and then stared at Harsh with a renewed angry face.
"Are you sure, Bhabhi? He’s drunk and doesn’t know what he’s talking about," (Kya tum sure ho, Bhabhi? "Woh nashe mein hai aur usko nahi pata ki woh kya keh raha hai,) Sameer mumbled, despite his voice being thick with desire of seeing her larger areolas.
But she didn't undress. Instead, with a quick, fluid motion, she dragged her hand within her blouse, pulled the left cup of her bra down, exposing not her skin but the blouse-covered swell of her breast, making the already visible nipple even more pronounced. The dark shadow of her areola was a clear, tantalizing circle against the blue silk.
Sameer didn't hesitate, pretending her hand directing his head down was made of metal, which he couldn’t avoid. He knew he had to enjoy this moment, to savor it for what it was. He leaned down and took a large piece of her boob into his mouth, his lips closing over the fabric. He felt the soft, warm flesh and the rough texture of the blouse against his tongue, with the hard nub of her nipple pressing against the roof of his mouth. He was probably tasting her large areola, he thought, and the idea made his head spin. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, a slow, deliberate exploration that made the fabric damp with his saliva. A soft, wet sucking sound filled the room, obscenely loud in the silence.
"Look at the rascal," (Is shaitan ko dekho,) Harsh commanded, his voice a low growl. "See how he’s enjoying my sister’s boobs." (Dekho kaise woh meri behen ke boobs enjoy kar raha hai.)
"Oh, my," (Arre mere,) Sonakshi moaned, her head falling back, her long hair brushing against Sameer's face. Her hand flew to the back of Sameer's head, her fingers tangling in his thick, dark hair, holding him in place, not letting him escape. "Sameer, your mouth... it's so hot through the fabric..." (Sameer, tumhara muh... fabric ke through itna garam hai...) The heat from his tongue was incredible, seeping through the material and setting her entire body on fire.
Sameer, encouraged by Harsh's words and Sonakshi's moans, did just that. He gently bit down on her nipple, a soft, playful nip through the wet fabric.
"Ahh!" Sonakshi cried out, a sharp, high-pitched sound that was a mix of pain and pure pleasure. Her back arched, pushing her breast further into his mouth. She looked from Sameer's face, buried in her chest, to Harsh's eyes, which were burning with a dark, possessive fire. A vein throbbed in Harsh's temple, a testament to his own intense arousal. The look that passed between them was a silent, explosive conversation. It was a dare, a challenge, and a promise, all in one single glance. You see what you've done? her eyes seemed to say. And you love it, don't you? His eyes replied.
"You like that, don't you?" (Tumhe pasand hai, na?) Sameer mumbled against her skin, his voice muffled by the wet fabric. "You like having both of us pleasing you." (Tumhe pasand hai ki dono tumhe please kar rahe hain.)
She couldn't answer. She could only moan as he continued his assault, his tongue working her hard nipple with a desperate, hungry need. Both Harsh and Sameer were rock hard, their dicks throbbing in unison, a testament to the raw, undeniable power of the woman who had them both completely and utterly in her thrall.
Harsh took another swig of his bottle, his eyes never leaving the scene. "That's just the appetizer," (Yeh bas starter hai,) he said, his voice a low, triumphant purr. "The main course is still to come, you little bitch." (Main course abhi baaki hai, tu choti kutiya.)
***
Just then, Harsh’s eyes narrowed, a cruel thought taking root. He watched as Sameer’s mouth worked, covering a significant portion of her small chest yet big and firm breast. He saw the dark, wet patch spreading on her blue blouse, centered right over her nipple, making the hard nub even more lucid. He also saw the faint, angry tooth marks of teeth beginning to form on the delicate fabric around it.
"Well, my sweet sister, look at the pleasure on your face. That explains why your pussy looks so wide like that." (Arre meri pyari behen, tumhare chehre par pleasure dekho. Yeh batata hai ki tumhari chut itni kyun wide dikhti hai.) Harsh suddenly asked, his voice cutting through the heavy air. "It's way more open than the last time I fucked you. Don't tell me that your useless husband finally learned how to use his limp dick." (Yeh last time jab maine tumhe choda tha usse kahin zyada khuli hui hai. Mujhe mat batana ki tumhara useless husband ne seekh learn kar liya hai ki uska limp dick kaise use karna hai.)
The words hit them like a physical blow. Sameer’s head snapped back from her chest as if he’d been electrocuted. Sonakshi’s eyes flew open, wide with shock and a fresh wave of humiliation. Both boys stared at her chest, at the damning evidence of Sameer’s passion: the large, dark wet spot and the constellation of teeth marks surrounding her now visibly erect nipple.
Harsh gave Sameer a lewd, knowing look. "Damn, man. Did you also fuck her? Or just chew on her tits like a puppy?" (Arre yaar. Kya tumne use bhi choda? Ya bas uske tits ko puppy ki tarah chaba rahe the?)
"Harsh, shut up!" (Harsh, chup chap!) Sonakshi shrieked, her voice cracking with rage and shame. She covered her nipple over her wet blouse with her hand, trying to cover herself. "Don't you dare humiliate me like this!" (Tum himmat karke mujhe aise insult mat karo!)
Harsh just laughed, an ugly sound. "Humiliate you? I'm just stating facts! I saw that big, stretched-out pussy of yours in the car. Your husband would never be pleased with that. It now needs a real dick, a dick like mine, to even feel the sides." (Tumhe insult kar raha hoon? Main sirf facts keh raha hoon! Maine car mein tumhari badi, khuli hui chut dekhi thi. Tumhara husband kabhi khush nahi hoga usse. Abhi use ek asli dick chahiye, jaisa mera, ki side bhi feel kare.)
Sonakshi looked at Sameer, a silent, desperate plea in her eyes. Only she knew the truth, that Sameer's dick, when fully hard, was slightly longer and thicker than Harsh's. She could have said it, could have used it to slice Harsh's ego to ribbons for talking about her "big pussy and limp husband," but she knew that would only make things more volatile, more dangerous.
"Harsh, stop it," (Harsh, roko,) Sameer said, his voice low and strained. "That's enough." (Bas itna kafi hai.)
"Oh, is it enough, Mr. Nice Guy?" (Oh, kya yeh kafi hai, Mr. Nice Guy?) Harsh sneered, turning his venom on his friend. "Or are you just sad I interrupted your meal?" (Ya tum shayad udas ho ki maine tumhara meal interrupt kar diya?)
Sonakshi intervened, her voice suddenly cold and detached, a shield against the pain. "You want to know who? Fine. It's been not with one or two but five men." (Tumhe jaanna hai ki kaun? Theek hai. Yeh ek ya do se nahi, balki paanch men ke saath hua hai.)
Harsh’s smirk faltered, replaced by genuine curiosity. "Five, bitch? Who?" (Paanch, kutiya? Kaun?)
"One boy from your class, two seniors, and one nerdy junior," (Tumhare class se ek ladka, do seniors, aur ek nerdy junior,) she said, her voice flat. "And one... you won't have the guts to listen to who the last one was." (Aur ek... tumhe uske baare mein sunne ki himmat nahi hogi.)
Harsh's face hardened. "Really? I fucked my own sister and got her pregnant, and you think I won't have the guts to hear about some other dickhead who had a go in that wide lake? Try me." (Sachchi? Maine apni behen ko choda aur use pregnant kiya, aur tum sochte ho ki mujhe kisi aur dickhead ke baare mein sunne ki himmat nahi hogi jo usme wide lake mein gaya ho? Try kar.)
Sonakshi looked him dead in the eye, a flicker of triumph in her gaze. "It was your brother. Anjali's husband." (Woh tumhara bhai tha. Anjali ka husband.)
The room went silent. The air seemed to crackle with the unspoken accusation.
Harsh stared at her, his mouth slightly agape. "My... brother? You're lying." (Mera... bhai? Tum jhooth bol rahi ho.)
"I'm not," (Main nahi,) she said, her voice dropping. "It was just one time. He was cheating on Anjali even back then, and he called me. We met in another village, just for a few hours. I called you, but you ignored me. The second time I called you, he picked up the phone. And he was... there. It meant nothing. It was a mistake. But... What about you? Tell me. How many girls’ lives have you ruined?" (Yeh sirf ek baar tha. Woh Anjali ko dhoka de raha tha tab bhi, aur usne mujhe call kiya. Hum doosre village mein mile, bas kuch ghante ke liye. Maine tumhe call kiya, lekin tumne mujhe ignore kiya. Jab maine doosri baar call kiya, toh usne phone uthaya. Aur woh... wahan tha. Iska koi matlab nahi tha. Yeh ek galti thi. Tumne batayo? Tumne kitni ladkiyon ki zindagiyan barbaad ki hain?)
“About me?” (Mere baare mein?) Harsh looked from her to Sameer and back again, his mind reeling. He felt a strange mix of betrayal and a weird, twisted pride that his elder brother had the same taste as him.
"Well, that's a lovely family reunion," (Arre, yeh toh ek lovely family reunion hai,) Sameer said quietly, trying to break the suffocating tension. "I guess it's only fair. She confessed, now you." (Main samajh sakti hoon ki yeh fair hai. Usne confess kiya, ab tum.)
Harsh turned on him, his anger needing a new target. "Confess what? That I'm a man? Fine. Fifteen girls. Virgins, mostly. High school girls who thought I was their ticket to heaven. And... maybe fifty sluts by now. Married women, lonely housewives, girls from bars. I lost count." (Confess kya? Ki main ek mard hoon? Theek hai. Pandrah ladkiyan. Virgins, zyada tarah. High school ladkiyan jo sochti thi ki main unke liye swarg ka ticket hoon. Aur... shayad ab tak chattis sluts. Married women, akeli housewives, bars ki ladkiyan. Mainne count kar diya.)
Sonakshi and Sameer were both stunned into silence. The sheer, casual cruelty of his confession, the numbers he was throwing around like trophies, was breathtaking.
"Fifty?" (Pachas?) Sonakshi finally whispered, a look of disgust on her face.
"Everyone has different taste," (Harsh kisi alag taste rakhta hai,) Sameer commented softly, his eyes on the floor. It was a simple statement, but his expressions carried a weight of quiet judgment that was more powerful than any shout.
Both Harsh and Sonakshi looked at him, surprised by his intervention.
"Fifty sluts," (Pachas sluts,) Harsh repeated, looking at him. "What about you, Sameer? Since we're all sharing. Or are you still just a peeping Tom?" (Tumhare baare mein kya? Kyunki hum sab share kar rahe hain. Ya tum abhi bhi ek peeping Tom ho?)
They turned on him in a two-pronged assault of teasing and provocation. "Come on, big guy," (Aao, bade aadmi,) Sonakshi said, her voice a teasing purr, trying to regain some control. "No girls ever approach you, but you must have had someone, maybe?" (Koi ladki tumhare paas nahi aati, lekin tumhe kisi toh hoga, shayad?)
Sameer's face was a mask of conflict. He looked at Harsh, then at Sonakshi. "Promise you won't judge," (Wada karo ki tum judge nahi karoge,) he said, his voice barely a whisper.
"We won't, we won't," (Hum nahi karenge, hum nahi karenge,) Sonakshi cooed, leaning forward. "We're all friends here, sharing our dirty little secrets." (Yahan sab dost hain, hum apne chote se dirty secrets share kar rahe hain.)
"Friends! I just saw that! Anyway, fine," (Dost! Maine yeh abhi dekha! Waise bhi, theek hai,) he said, taking a deep breath. "The first... was Sonakshi's mother-in-law." (Pehla... Sonakshi ki saas tha.)
Sonakshi's jaw dropped. Harsh let out a whoop of laughter. "No fucking way! The old lady? The one with the big ass?" (Nahi! Yaar! Woh buddhi? Jiski badi gand hai?)
Sameer flinched but continued, his voice monotone, as if recounting a traumatic event. "It wasn't good. Fifty percent stress, thirty percent fear, and twenty percent... I don't know, obligation of being a nice neighbor to his next-door Aunty? I couldn't even get it properly hard. She kept teasing me for being a novice." (Yeh accha nahi tha. Pachas percent stress, tees percent dar, aur bees percent... main nahi jaanta, farz? Main properly hard bhi nahi ho paya. Woh mujhe novice hone ke liye tease karti rahi.)
Sonakshi looked at him, a new, strange respect dawning in her eyes. He wasn't just a nervous boy; he had lived through things she couldn't imagine.
"Who was the second?" (Dusra kaun tha?) Harsh demanded, his curiosity piqued. "Another old lady?" (Koi aur buddhi?)
Sameer hesitated, his eyes darting to Harsh. "No... I can't." (Nahi... main nahi kar sakta.)
"Why not?" (Kyu nahi?) Sonakshi pressed.
"Because I saw how angry you got at her," (Kyunki maine dekha ki tum uske liye kitna gusse mein the,) Sameer said, nodding towards Harsh and Sonakshi. "And I know how you get, Harsh." (Aur main jaanta hoon ki tum kaise ho.)
Harsh looked at Sonakshi, a flicker of something like guilt in his eyes. He remembered his anger, his cruel words. He reached out and pulled her into a rough hug. "Sorry," (Maafi,) he mumbled into her hair. "I'm a dick, excuse me." (Main ek dick hoon, maaf karo.)
She hugged him back, a moment of strange, fragile peace in the chaos of the room. Just as Harsh broke the hug, he pinched her hard nipple. Sonakshi slapped his hand. “Let him talk!” (Use baat karne do!)
"It was your mom," (Woh tumhari mom thi,) Sameer said quietly, the words hanging in the air.
Harsh stiffened, pulling away from Sonakshi. "What did you just say?" (Tumne just kya kaha?) As he was moving to Sameer, Sonakshi stopped him, giving him an eye that reminded him about his promise of not judging.
"Your mom," (Tumhari mom,) Sameer repeated, his voice gaining a little strength.
Sonakshi knew that Sameer's confession was going to change all of their lives, but was it going to be for the best or the worst?
(To be completed...)
Harsh was standing by the counter, a beer in hand, his expression dark. "Where's Sameer?" (Sameer kahan hai?) he asked, his voice flat.
"Toilet," she said, her tone casual as she opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water.
Harsh's eyes narrowed. "Toilet? He's been in there a while. Weren't you just in there?" (Toilet? Woh bahut der se andar hai. Tum abhi toh wahi thi na?)
Sonakshi straightened up, unscrewing the cap of the water bottle. She gave him a look, a mixture of exasperation and seriousness. "No. When I got out, he was going in." (Nahi. Jab main bahar aai, toh woh andar ja raha tha.) She held his gaze, her own expression unwavering.
"I've been standing here for the last few minutes, Sonakshi. I didn't see him go in," (Main last few minutes se yahan khada hoon, Sonakshi. Main use andar jaate nahi dekha,) Harsh pressed, his suspicion palpable.
She let out a short, sharp laugh, but it was devoid of any real humor. "Are you losing your mind, Harsh? What do you think was happening in there? That I pulled down my leggings and my panty in front of him and peed for him to watch? Come on, have some sense. Your brain is completely fried because of that slut Bhabhi of yours." (Kya tum pagal ho rahe ho, Harsh? Tumhe kya lagta hai ki andar kya ho raha tha? Ki maine apni leggings aur panty uske saamne utaari aur uske saamne pee-pee ki? Aare, thoda sense use karo. Tumhara dimaag uski randi Bhabhi ki wajah se completely fry ho gaya hai.) She took a long drink of water, her eyes challenging him over the rim of the bottle. "Your mind is somewhere else, and so are your eyes. All you can think about is Anjali. Just go and relax for a bit. I'll bring the food and drinks." (Tumhara dimaag kahin aur hai, aur tumhare aankh bhi. Tum sirf Anjali ke baare mein soch sakte ho. Thoda relax jao. Main khana aur drinks le aati hoon.)
Just then, the bathroom door opened and Sameer walked out. He was trying to act casual, but the prominent bulge straining against the front of his jeans was a dead giveaway.
Harsh's eyes flicked down to Sameer's crotch, then back to Sonakshi's face, a slow, cynical smile spreading across his lips. "Well, well, cousin Didi," (Arre arre, cousin Didi,) he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Looks like his boner is giving him some sense." (Lagta hai uska boner use kuch sense de raha hai.)
Sonakshi didn't even flinch. She just rolled her eyes. "See? That's what I'm talking about. Your mind is in the gutter. Leave the poor boy alone." (Dekho? Main yahi keh rahi hoon. Tumhara dimaq gutter mein hai. Use akela chhod do.) She turned to Sameer, her voice softening. "Sameer, can you please finish the salad? I'll bring the drinks out to the living room." (Sameer, kya tum salad kar sakte ho? Main drinks living room mein le aati hoon.)
As Sameer nodded, still red-faced, Sonakshi grabbed the beers and walked out of the kitchen. Sameer watched her go, his eyes glued to her back. The tight blue leggings of her churidar clung to her slender frame like a second skin, and with every step, he could see the gentle, mesmerizing jiggle of her ass. It was small, and flat, similar to young girls but with a perfect, youthful curve hanging at the base of her slim thighs that made his mouth go dry.
He turned his attention back to the salad, his movements stiff and robotic. He could hear her moving around in the living room and the clink of glasses. He tried to focus on chopping the tomatoes, but his mind was a whirlwind of images from the bathroom.
Sonakshi came back into the kitchen, her hips swaying as usual, which seemed natural. As she went to the freezer to get some ice, Sameer's eyes were drawn to her ass once more. The leggings were so tight and so sheer that he could now clearly see the faint, slightly darker contour of her panty line tracing the perfect curve of her bum. It was a subtle, yet incredibly erotic detail, a secret glimpse of the lingerie hidden beneath.
She bent down to get something from a lower cabinet, squatting low on her heels. The movement was catastrophic for Sameer's self-control. The fabric of her leggings pulled taut, digging deep between her cheeks, and he could see it. The distinct, tantalizing 'W' shape of her panty, pressed tight against her legging mound. It was a fantastic, heart-stopping view, a clear outline of her most intimate place. He felt his cock, which had just started to soften, spring back to life, throbbing with a desperate need.
She stood up and turned around, a bright smile on her face. "Sameer, could you pass me the..." Her voice trailed off as she saw his eyes. She knew exactly where he was looking. A faint blush colored her cheeks, but it was quickly replaced by a sly, knowing smile. She looked away shyly, a soft giggle escaping her lips. It was a sexier sound than anything he had ever heard. "Just... bring the salad to the living room when you're done," (Bas... jab tum khatam kar lo toh salad ko living room mein le aao,) she said, her voice a little breathless. "Don't be too long." (Zyada der mat lagao.) And with that, she swayed out of the kitchen, leaving him gasping for air.
***
In the living room, Harsh was sitting on the three-seater sofa, his head in his hands.
"What's wrong now?" (Ab kya problem hai?) Sonakshi asked, her voice soft as she sat down next to him, leaving a space between them.
"Headache," (Sirf dard,) he grumbled, not looking up.
“I knew it was Anjali Bhabhi’s call,” (Mujhe pata tha ki yeh Anjali Bhabhi ka call tha,) as she shifted closer, her thigh pressing against his. "Poor baby," (Pareesa baby,) she cooed, her hand snaking under the hem of his t-shirt. Her fingers were warm against his skin as they traced lazy circles on his belly. "You made a big scene today, and now you’re paying the price." (Aaj tune bada scene banaya, aur ab tum iski keemat de rahe ho.)
He caught her wrist, his grip firm. "Stop it, Sonakshi. Not now." (Ruk jao, Sonakshi. Abhi nahi.)
"No," she whispered, pulling her hand free and placing it possessively on his belly again. "You made a promise today. You said you'd do the work." (Nahi. Tumne aaj ek wada kiya tha. Tumne kaha tha ki tum kaam karoge.) She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. "You said you'd help me put a baby in me. While you're resting, I want you to think about that. Think about my belly getting big and round with your child, my cute brother." (Tumne kaha tha ki tum mujhe baby dilane mein madad karoge. Jab tum rest kar rahe ho, toh main chahti hoon ki tum iske baare mein socho. Socho ki mera pet tumhare bacche se bada aur gol ho jaaye, mera cute brother.)
She gently pulled her hand free and lifted his shirt, exposing his chest and stomach. "You need to relax." (Tumhe relax karna hai.) She leaned down, her long dark hair falling like a curtain around his face. He felt her warm, wet tongue on his nipple, a slow, deliberate lick that sent a jolt of pleasure straight to his groin. Her saliva glistened on his skin in the dim light as his nipple hardened into a tight, sensitive peak.
Just then, Sameer walked into the living room, the bowl of salad in his hands. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes wide with shock. He saw her, bent over Harsh's body, her head nestled against his chest. He saw the way her tongue was teasing Harsh's nipple, hard and erect, just as she had teased the tip of his dick with her own tongue tip in the bathroom. The memory, combined with the sight in front of him, was almost too much to bear.
But his eyes, as if drawn by an invisible force, drifted lower, down her arched back, to her ass. Her body was resting on the sofa, balanced precariously on the side of her ass. The position pushed her two perfect, firm bums into a stunning display, right in his line of sight. He saw the deep, shadowy crack of her ass, the fabric disappearing into the dark cleft between her cheeks. And below that, where her thighs met, he could see the distinct, soft mound of her pussy entrance from behind, the fabric of her leggings pressing against it, outlining its perfect, plump shape. It was the kind of ass that he always wanted to cup in his hands, cute and small, fit for his large hand.
Harsh noticed Sameer's slack-jawed, fixed stare. A cruel, possessive smirk twisted his lips. "Sameer, my friend," (Sameer, mere dost,) he drawled, his voice a low rumble. "Stop drooling and have a beer. You might get to smell her sweet little flowers if she lets out one puff of air, but you'll never get to kiss the little rosebud button that pushes her sweet chocolate. That's a private door, and you're just a passerby.” (Drooling band karo aur ek beer lo. Agar woh hawa ka ek puff chode toh tumhe uski meethi phoolon ki mehak mil sakti hai, lekin tum kabhi uske chote rosebud button ko kiss nahi kar paoge jo uski meethi chocolate ko dhakelta hai. Yeh ek private door hai, aur tum bas ek passerby ho.)
Sonakshi's mouth formed a perfect 'O' of shock. She looked back over her shoulder and saw exactly where Sameer's eyes were glued before he could wrench them away. A hot blush of embarrassment flooded her cheeks.
She quickly sat up, pulling her ass on the seat down to hide her curves, and slapped Harsh hard on the arm. “Harsh! Oh my, that's the most disgusting thing I've ever heard! My chocolate—you're such a pig!! How can you say such disgusting things?" (Harsh! Oh mere bhagwan, yeh jo maine sunna woh ab tak ka sabse ganda baat hai! Mera chocolate—tum ek suar ho!! Tum aise gandi baatein kaise keh sakte ho?) she hissed. "We were about to eat!” (Hum khane wale the!)
Harsh just rubbed his arm, a smirk playing on his lips. "What? You're acting like you're some kind of doll who doesn't do it." (Kya? Tum aise behave kar rahi ho jaise koi gudiya ho jo yeh nahi karti.)
She slapped him again, harder this time. "It's still disgusting! You don't talk about it like that!" (Yeh abhi bhi ganda hai! Aise iske baare mein baat nahi karte!)
"Okay, okay, sorry," (Theek hai, theek hai, maafi,) he said, his voice dripping with insincerity. He grabbed a can of beer from the table, popped it open, and tilted his head back, draining the entire thing in one long, continuous flow. His Adam's apple bobbed with every gulp.
Sonakshi and Sameer stared at him, stunned. "Harsh, control yourself," (Harsh, khud ko control karo,) Sonakshi pleaded.
"I can't," (Main nahi kar sakta,) he said, slamming the empty can down on the table. He stood up, pacing restlessly. "I can't control it because of Anjali Bhabhi. That slut just phoned me and ordered me to come back home. I need something to distract me. A real distraction." (Main isliye control nahi kar sakta kyunki Anjali Bhabhi. Usne mujhe phone kiya aur mujhe ghar aane ko kaha. Mujhe kuch distraction chahiye. Ek asli distraction.)
She cursed under her breath. "Am I so bad that I couldn’t even distract you with that little nipple tease?" (Kya main itni buri hoon ki main tumhe us chote nipple tease se distract nahi kar saki?)
"For a young boy, it might have," (Ek young boy ke liye shayad ho sakta tha,) he shot back, his eyes wild. "For putting a baby in you, I need a real distraction." (Tumme baby dalne ke liye, mujhe ek asli distraction chahiye.)
She got angry, her eyes flashing. "Fine! Then I do it with Sameer!" (Theek hai! Phir main Sameer ke saath karti hoon!) she yelled, gesturing wildly at him. "Go on! Look for another lady to distract you!" (Chalo! Koi aur aurat dhundo jo tumhe distract kare!)
Harsh's lips curled into a wicked grin. "The nipple tease is good for him," (Nipple tease uske liye accha hai,) he said, looking at Sameer with a predatory glint. "The poor boy might enjoy it." (Yeh gareeb ladka shayad enjoy karega.)
Sameer felt a sharp pang of hurt, like a physical blow. He was just a pawn in their game, a toy for them to fight over.
Sonakshi saw the look on Sameer's face, a raw cocktail of humiliation, hurt, and a lingering, desperate arousal. A new, dangerous idea sparked in her eyes, a mischievous glint that was both for him and against Harsh. It was a mix of genuine pity for the sweet, awkward boy and a burning desire for revenge against the arrogant man beside her. She put on an exaggerated pout, a look of pure, childish defiance aimed directly at Harsh.
She reached out and grabbed Sameer's arm, her grip surprisingly firm. "Come here, you," (Aao, tum,) she commanded, her voice a playful purr. She pulled him down onto the sofa next to her, so close their thighs were touching. He stumbled, his body rigid with surprise, his eyes wide with confusion. Before he could even process what was happening, she hooked her fingers into the hem of his t-shirt and lifted it, revealing his dark, hairy chest. His breath hitched in his throat, a sharp, audible gasp.
She leaned in, her long, dark hair brushing against his skin, sending a shiver through his entire body. Her tongue, pink and glistening, darted out and flicked the very tip of his nipple. It was a quick, electric touch, like a tiny bolt of lightning. He gasped, his entire body tensing, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.
"Oops, did I startle you, my big, strong boy?" (Oops, maine tumhe dara diya, mere bade, strong ladke?) She cooed, her voice a husky whisper, her eyes locked on his. She did it again to tease Harsh, but this time swirling her tongue slowly, deliberately around the nub, which was already hardening under her attention. A thin, glistening trail of her saliva connected her tongue to his chest, a delicate, filthy bridge. "Look at this little soldier," (Is chote soldier ko dekho,) she teased, "standing at attention just for Bhabhi. So eager." (Sirf Bhabhi ke liye attention mein khada hai. Itna eager.)
Harsh, who had been watching with a smug grin, now leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Careful, Sonakshi," (Saavdhaan, Sonakshi,) he said, his voice a low rumble. "You might break him." (Tum use tod sakti ho.)
Sonakshi didn't even look at him. Her eyes were fixed on Sameer, devouring his every reaction. "Don’t be jealous, he's not made of glass, are you, Babu?" (Jal mat karo, woh glass ka nahi hai, na, Babu?) she said, her voice dripping with sweet condescension. "You like when Bhabhi plays, don't you?" (Tumhe pasand hai jab Bhabhi khelti hai, na?) She blew a soft stream of air onto the wet nipple, and he shuddered violently. "Your heart is beating so fast," (Tumhara dil itni tezi se beat kar raha hai,) she murmured, placing her palm flat on his chest. "I can feel it right through your skin. Poor baby, are you scared?" (Main tumhare skin se feel kar sakti hoon. Pareesa baby, kya tum dar rahe ho?)
"B-Bhabhi..." (B-Bhabhi...) he managed to choke out, his voice a hoarse, broken whisper. He felt like he was drowning, lost in the depths of her dark, teasing eyes.
"Shhh..." (Shhh...) she whispered, her finger tracing the line of his jaw. "Just feel. Let Bhabhi make it all better." (Bas feel karo. Bhabhi sab theek kar degi.) She leaned back in, but this time, she didn't just lick. She took the entire hardened nub into her mouth, her soft lips closing around it.
Harsh watched, his own arousal growing painfully obvious as he saw his friend, the shy, nerdy boy, being expertly teased by his sister, the one he was about to claim. The sight of her pink tongue against Sameer's dark skin was incredibly erotic.
He walked over to a small, ornate bar in the corner of the room, the one her husband used. He opened a cabinet and pulled out a half-full bottle of whiskey, the amber liquid sloshing ominously inside. The image of Anjali’s slap, a torment he couldn't escape, was seared into his mind. He needed something stronger than beer to dull the sharp edges of his humiliation and the throbbing ache in his groin. This is the only cure, (Yeh hi ilaaj hai,) he thought, for the sickness she gave me.
Sonakshi saw him, and her playful mood vanished, replaced by a flicker of genuine panic. "Sameer, no," (Sameer, nahi,) she said, her voice firm, a stark contrast to her earlier teasing. "Don't drink that. Remember last time on my honeymoon? You drank a whole bottle, and my husband has a nose like a bloodhound for whiskey. He questioned me for days. I had to pretend I knew nothing about the smell on our sheets. Not this time, Sameer. Please. Or my husband will think I'm bringing men home to get drunk in his absence." (Use mat piyo. Yaad hai last time mere honeymoon par? Tumne poori bottle pee li, aur mere husband ke paas whiskey ke liye ek bloodhound ki nose hai. Usne mujhe dinon tak sawaal kiya. Mujhe pretend karna pada ki maine sheets par smell ke baare mein kuch nahi jaanta. Is baar nahi, Sameer. Please. Varna mera husband sochega ki main ghar mein mardon ko drink karne ke liye laati hoon jab woh nahi hota.)
He ignored her, his movements jerky with a desperate determination. He twisted the cap off the bottle, the sound sharp and final in the tense room. He didn't bother with a glass. He brought the bottle to his lips and took two large, burning gulps, the whiskey a fire trail down his throat. His eyes, dark and intense, never left Sonakshi. He lowered the bottle, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Harsh let out a low, teasing laugh. "That's it, Sameer. Get some liquid courage in you. You're going to need it to face what's coming." (Wahi hai, Sameer. Tumme thodi liquid courage daalo. Tumhe jo aane wala hai usse face karne ke liye iski zarurat hogi.)
“Really?” (Sachchi?) He said while looking at Sameer. Then, he turned to Sonakshi. "Why are you just licking him?" (Tum bas use kyu lick kar rahi ho?) Harsh asked, his voice rough with alcohol and reckless courage. His eyes, a little wild, darted from Sonakshi to Sameer and back. "Do what you really want to do. Stop teasing him. Do it in front of me." (Jo tum sach mein karna chahti ho woh karo. Use tease mat karo. Mere saamne karo.)
Sonakshi stared at him, shocked. "What? What are you saying, Harsh? I was teasing you by playing with his nipple. It was just for fun, brother." (Kya? Kya keh rahe ho, Harsh? Main use nipple play karke tumhe tease kar rahi thi. Yeh bas mazaak tha, brother.)
Harsh laughed, a harsh, ugly sound that was pure provocation. "Come on, Sonakshi. Fun! He's already had a taste of your... 'farm' in the toilet. Why not let him milk the cow?" (Aao, Sonakshi. Mazaak! Woh already tumhare... 'farm' ka taste toilet mein le chuka hai. Kyun use cow ko milkne nahi dete?) His words were crude, designed to humiliate and excite in equal measure. "Instead of licking his nipple, why not just say you want a lick like that yourself? Stop teasing him. Get him for the job. Or are you fearing my presence, hoping I move away? I’m not your stupid husband, I understand all!" (Uske nipple ki jagah, why not bas keh do ki tumhe aisa lick chahiye? Use tease mat karo. Use kaam par lago. Ya tum mere presence se dar rahi ho, ummeed hai ki main chala jaun? Main tumhara stupid husband nahi hoon, mujhe sab samajh aata hai!)
"Harsh, what you’re saying. Nothing like that happened!" (Harsh, tum jo keh rahe ho. Aisa kuch nahi hua!) Sameer tried to intervene, his voice a weak protest.
Sonakshi was trapped. A wave of fear washed over her, cold and sharp. This was going too far. This wasn't a game anymore. To do something with his best friend, right in front of him... that wasn't just being naughty, that was being a slut. She had never pleased a man in front of another one. But a dark, treacherous thrill shot through her. He's treating me like public property, but maybe… maybe I must thank him for helping me, because a part of me loves it. I was just waiting for this moment. I need to act. Now! That's the only way to win this game. The game of convincing him to retain Sameer so that I can ultimately enjoy a threesome. My idiot brother and his stupid idea of challenging a slut like me. (Woh mujhe public property jaise treat kar raha hai, lekin shayad... shayad mujhe use shukriya karna chahiye jo isne mujhe madad ki, kyunki ek hissa mujhe yeh pasand hai. Main bas is pal ke intezar kar rahi thi. Mujhe abhi act karna hai. Yeh is game jeetne ka ek hi tareeka hai. Sameer ko rakhne ke liye use convince karne ka game taaki main aakhir mein threesome enjoy kar saku. Mera idiot brother aur uski slut jaise mujhe challenge karne ki stupid idea.)
"You think you can just order me around like some... some prostitute?" (Tum sochte ho ki tum mujhe kisi... kisi prostitute jaise order kar sakte ho?) She shot back at Harsh, making a voice that pretended to be trembling with a mix of anger. "You think this is a game? Okay, let’s play that game if you want.” (Tumhe lagta hai ki yeh ek game hai? Theek hai, chalo woh game khelte hain agar tumhe chahiye.)
With a final, defiant pout, as if accepting a dare she didn’t even propose, she made her move. She grabbed Sameer by the neck, her grip surprisingly strong, and turned his broad body towards her own slim but busty chest. He stared down at her, his eyes wide, his gaze locked on the two perfect, hard nipples clearly visible through the thin fabric of her blue blouse. He was hoping, wishing, she would remove her dress. The anticipation was a physical ache.
"Are you ready for this, my big, shy neighbor?" (Kya tum iske liye taiyaar ho, mere bade, sharmile padosan?) She whispered to Sameer, her voice a sultry, secret promise that contrasted her previous anger, and then stared at Harsh with a renewed angry face.
"Are you sure, Bhabhi? He’s drunk and doesn’t know what he’s talking about," (Kya tum sure ho, Bhabhi? "Woh nashe mein hai aur usko nahi pata ki woh kya keh raha hai,) Sameer mumbled, despite his voice being thick with desire of seeing her larger areolas.
But she didn't undress. Instead, with a quick, fluid motion, she dragged her hand within her blouse, pulled the left cup of her bra down, exposing not her skin but the blouse-covered swell of her breast, making the already visible nipple even more pronounced. The dark shadow of her areola was a clear, tantalizing circle against the blue silk.
Sameer didn't hesitate, pretending her hand directing his head down was made of metal, which he couldn’t avoid. He knew he had to enjoy this moment, to savor it for what it was. He leaned down and took a large piece of her boob into his mouth, his lips closing over the fabric. He felt the soft, warm flesh and the rough texture of the blouse against his tongue, with the hard nub of her nipple pressing against the roof of his mouth. He was probably tasting her large areola, he thought, and the idea made his head spin. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, a slow, deliberate exploration that made the fabric damp with his saliva. A soft, wet sucking sound filled the room, obscenely loud in the silence.
"Look at the rascal," (Is shaitan ko dekho,) Harsh commanded, his voice a low growl. "See how he’s enjoying my sister’s boobs." (Dekho kaise woh meri behen ke boobs enjoy kar raha hai.)
"Oh, my," (Arre mere,) Sonakshi moaned, her head falling back, her long hair brushing against Sameer's face. Her hand flew to the back of Sameer's head, her fingers tangling in his thick, dark hair, holding him in place, not letting him escape. "Sameer, your mouth... it's so hot through the fabric..." (Sameer, tumhara muh... fabric ke through itna garam hai...) The heat from his tongue was incredible, seeping through the material and setting her entire body on fire.
Sameer, encouraged by Harsh's words and Sonakshi's moans, did just that. He gently bit down on her nipple, a soft, playful nip through the wet fabric.
"Ahh!" Sonakshi cried out, a sharp, high-pitched sound that was a mix of pain and pure pleasure. Her back arched, pushing her breast further into his mouth. She looked from Sameer's face, buried in her chest, to Harsh's eyes, which were burning with a dark, possessive fire. A vein throbbed in Harsh's temple, a testament to his own intense arousal. The look that passed between them was a silent, explosive conversation. It was a dare, a challenge, and a promise, all in one single glance. You see what you've done? her eyes seemed to say. And you love it, don't you? His eyes replied.
"You like that, don't you?" (Tumhe pasand hai, na?) Sameer mumbled against her skin, his voice muffled by the wet fabric. "You like having both of us pleasing you." (Tumhe pasand hai ki dono tumhe please kar rahe hain.)
She couldn't answer. She could only moan as he continued his assault, his tongue working her hard nipple with a desperate, hungry need. Both Harsh and Sameer were rock hard, their dicks throbbing in unison, a testament to the raw, undeniable power of the woman who had them both completely and utterly in her thrall.
Harsh took another swig of his bottle, his eyes never leaving the scene. "That's just the appetizer," (Yeh bas starter hai,) he said, his voice a low, triumphant purr. "The main course is still to come, you little bitch." (Main course abhi baaki hai, tu choti kutiya.)
***
Just then, Harsh’s eyes narrowed, a cruel thought taking root. He watched as Sameer’s mouth worked, covering a significant portion of her small chest yet big and firm breast. He saw the dark, wet patch spreading on her blue blouse, centered right over her nipple, making the hard nub even more lucid. He also saw the faint, angry tooth marks of teeth beginning to form on the delicate fabric around it.
"Well, my sweet sister, look at the pleasure on your face. That explains why your pussy looks so wide like that." (Arre meri pyari behen, tumhare chehre par pleasure dekho. Yeh batata hai ki tumhari chut itni kyun wide dikhti hai.) Harsh suddenly asked, his voice cutting through the heavy air. "It's way more open than the last time I fucked you. Don't tell me that your useless husband finally learned how to use his limp dick." (Yeh last time jab maine tumhe choda tha usse kahin zyada khuli hui hai. Mujhe mat batana ki tumhara useless husband ne seekh learn kar liya hai ki uska limp dick kaise use karna hai.)
The words hit them like a physical blow. Sameer’s head snapped back from her chest as if he’d been electrocuted. Sonakshi’s eyes flew open, wide with shock and a fresh wave of humiliation. Both boys stared at her chest, at the damning evidence of Sameer’s passion: the large, dark wet spot and the constellation of teeth marks surrounding her now visibly erect nipple.
Harsh gave Sameer a lewd, knowing look. "Damn, man. Did you also fuck her? Or just chew on her tits like a puppy?" (Arre yaar. Kya tumne use bhi choda? Ya bas uske tits ko puppy ki tarah chaba rahe the?)
"Harsh, shut up!" (Harsh, chup chap!) Sonakshi shrieked, her voice cracking with rage and shame. She covered her nipple over her wet blouse with her hand, trying to cover herself. "Don't you dare humiliate me like this!" (Tum himmat karke mujhe aise insult mat karo!)
Harsh just laughed, an ugly sound. "Humiliate you? I'm just stating facts! I saw that big, stretched-out pussy of yours in the car. Your husband would never be pleased with that. It now needs a real dick, a dick like mine, to even feel the sides." (Tumhe insult kar raha hoon? Main sirf facts keh raha hoon! Maine car mein tumhari badi, khuli hui chut dekhi thi. Tumhara husband kabhi khush nahi hoga usse. Abhi use ek asli dick chahiye, jaisa mera, ki side bhi feel kare.)
Sonakshi looked at Sameer, a silent, desperate plea in her eyes. Only she knew the truth, that Sameer's dick, when fully hard, was slightly longer and thicker than Harsh's. She could have said it, could have used it to slice Harsh's ego to ribbons for talking about her "big pussy and limp husband," but she knew that would only make things more volatile, more dangerous.
"Harsh, stop it," (Harsh, roko,) Sameer said, his voice low and strained. "That's enough." (Bas itna kafi hai.)
"Oh, is it enough, Mr. Nice Guy?" (Oh, kya yeh kafi hai, Mr. Nice Guy?) Harsh sneered, turning his venom on his friend. "Or are you just sad I interrupted your meal?" (Ya tum shayad udas ho ki maine tumhara meal interrupt kar diya?)
Sonakshi intervened, her voice suddenly cold and detached, a shield against the pain. "You want to know who? Fine. It's been not with one or two but five men." (Tumhe jaanna hai ki kaun? Theek hai. Yeh ek ya do se nahi, balki paanch men ke saath hua hai.)
Harsh’s smirk faltered, replaced by genuine curiosity. "Five, bitch? Who?" (Paanch, kutiya? Kaun?)
"One boy from your class, two seniors, and one nerdy junior," (Tumhare class se ek ladka, do seniors, aur ek nerdy junior,) she said, her voice flat. "And one... you won't have the guts to listen to who the last one was." (Aur ek... tumhe uske baare mein sunne ki himmat nahi hogi.)
Harsh's face hardened. "Really? I fucked my own sister and got her pregnant, and you think I won't have the guts to hear about some other dickhead who had a go in that wide lake? Try me." (Sachchi? Maine apni behen ko choda aur use pregnant kiya, aur tum sochte ho ki mujhe kisi aur dickhead ke baare mein sunne ki himmat nahi hogi jo usme wide lake mein gaya ho? Try kar.)
Sonakshi looked him dead in the eye, a flicker of triumph in her gaze. "It was your brother. Anjali's husband." (Woh tumhara bhai tha. Anjali ka husband.)
The room went silent. The air seemed to crackle with the unspoken accusation.
Harsh stared at her, his mouth slightly agape. "My... brother? You're lying." (Mera... bhai? Tum jhooth bol rahi ho.)
"I'm not," (Main nahi,) she said, her voice dropping. "It was just one time. He was cheating on Anjali even back then, and he called me. We met in another village, just for a few hours. I called you, but you ignored me. The second time I called you, he picked up the phone. And he was... there. It meant nothing. It was a mistake. But... What about you? Tell me. How many girls’ lives have you ruined?" (Yeh sirf ek baar tha. Woh Anjali ko dhoka de raha tha tab bhi, aur usne mujhe call kiya. Hum doosre village mein mile, bas kuch ghante ke liye. Maine tumhe call kiya, lekin tumne mujhe ignore kiya. Jab maine doosri baar call kiya, toh usne phone uthaya. Aur woh... wahan tha. Iska koi matlab nahi tha. Yeh ek galti thi. Tumne batayo? Tumne kitni ladkiyon ki zindagiyan barbaad ki hain?)
“About me?” (Mere baare mein?) Harsh looked from her to Sameer and back again, his mind reeling. He felt a strange mix of betrayal and a weird, twisted pride that his elder brother had the same taste as him.
"Well, that's a lovely family reunion," (Arre, yeh toh ek lovely family reunion hai,) Sameer said quietly, trying to break the suffocating tension. "I guess it's only fair. She confessed, now you." (Main samajh sakti hoon ki yeh fair hai. Usne confess kiya, ab tum.)
Harsh turned on him, his anger needing a new target. "Confess what? That I'm a man? Fine. Fifteen girls. Virgins, mostly. High school girls who thought I was their ticket to heaven. And... maybe fifty sluts by now. Married women, lonely housewives, girls from bars. I lost count." (Confess kya? Ki main ek mard hoon? Theek hai. Pandrah ladkiyan. Virgins, zyada tarah. High school ladkiyan jo sochti thi ki main unke liye swarg ka ticket hoon. Aur... shayad ab tak chattis sluts. Married women, akeli housewives, bars ki ladkiyan. Mainne count kar diya.)
Sonakshi and Sameer were both stunned into silence. The sheer, casual cruelty of his confession, the numbers he was throwing around like trophies, was breathtaking.
"Fifty?" (Pachas?) Sonakshi finally whispered, a look of disgust on her face.
"Everyone has different taste," (Harsh kisi alag taste rakhta hai,) Sameer commented softly, his eyes on the floor. It was a simple statement, but his expressions carried a weight of quiet judgment that was more powerful than any shout.
Both Harsh and Sonakshi looked at him, surprised by his intervention.
"Fifty sluts," (Pachas sluts,) Harsh repeated, looking at him. "What about you, Sameer? Since we're all sharing. Or are you still just a peeping Tom?" (Tumhare baare mein kya? Kyunki hum sab share kar rahe hain. Ya tum abhi bhi ek peeping Tom ho?)
They turned on him in a two-pronged assault of teasing and provocation. "Come on, big guy," (Aao, bade aadmi,) Sonakshi said, her voice a teasing purr, trying to regain some control. "No girls ever approach you, but you must have had someone, maybe?" (Koi ladki tumhare paas nahi aati, lekin tumhe kisi toh hoga, shayad?)
Sameer's face was a mask of conflict. He looked at Harsh, then at Sonakshi. "Promise you won't judge," (Wada karo ki tum judge nahi karoge,) he said, his voice barely a whisper.
"We won't, we won't," (Hum nahi karenge, hum nahi karenge,) Sonakshi cooed, leaning forward. "We're all friends here, sharing our dirty little secrets." (Yahan sab dost hain, hum apne chote se dirty secrets share kar rahe hain.)
"Friends! I just saw that! Anyway, fine," (Dost! Maine yeh abhi dekha! Waise bhi, theek hai,) he said, taking a deep breath. "The first... was Sonakshi's mother-in-law." (Pehla... Sonakshi ki saas tha.)
Sonakshi's jaw dropped. Harsh let out a whoop of laughter. "No fucking way! The old lady? The one with the big ass?" (Nahi! Yaar! Woh buddhi? Jiski badi gand hai?)
Sameer flinched but continued, his voice monotone, as if recounting a traumatic event. "It wasn't good. Fifty percent stress, thirty percent fear, and twenty percent... I don't know, obligation of being a nice neighbor to his next-door Aunty? I couldn't even get it properly hard. She kept teasing me for being a novice." (Yeh accha nahi tha. Pachas percent stress, tees percent dar, aur bees percent... main nahi jaanta, farz? Main properly hard bhi nahi ho paya. Woh mujhe novice hone ke liye tease karti rahi.)
Sonakshi looked at him, a new, strange respect dawning in her eyes. He wasn't just a nervous boy; he had lived through things she couldn't imagine.
"Who was the second?" (Dusra kaun tha?) Harsh demanded, his curiosity piqued. "Another old lady?" (Koi aur buddhi?)
Sameer hesitated, his eyes darting to Harsh. "No... I can't." (Nahi... main nahi kar sakta.)
"Why not?" (Kyu nahi?) Sonakshi pressed.
"Because I saw how angry you got at her," (Kyunki maine dekha ki tum uske liye kitna gusse mein the,) Sameer said, nodding towards Harsh and Sonakshi. "And I know how you get, Harsh." (Aur main jaanta hoon ki tum kaise ho.)
Harsh looked at Sonakshi, a flicker of something like guilt in his eyes. He remembered his anger, his cruel words. He reached out and pulled her into a rough hug. "Sorry," (Maafi,) he mumbled into her hair. "I'm a dick, excuse me." (Main ek dick hoon, maaf karo.)
She hugged him back, a moment of strange, fragile peace in the chaos of the room. Just as Harsh broke the hug, he pinched her hard nipple. Sonakshi slapped his hand. “Let him talk!” (Use baat karne do!)
"It was your mom," (Woh tumhari mom thi,) Sameer said quietly, the words hanging in the air.
Harsh stiffened, pulling away from Sonakshi. "What did you just say?" (Tumne just kya kaha?) As he was moving to Sameer, Sonakshi stopped him, giving him an eye that reminded him about his promise of not judging.
"Your mom," (Tumhari mom,) Sameer repeated, his voice gaining a little strength.
Sonakshi knew that Sameer's confession was going to change all of their lives, but was it going to be for the best or the worst?
(To be completed...)
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hotshot
The things you own, end up owning you
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niceA Little Note From Nihalika
Hello Dosto,
This is my very first time posting a story here, and my heart is beating a little faster than usual as I write this. I've always had stories swirling in my head, passionate tales that I've been desperate to put on paper, but I have a confession to make. I have a bit of a problem when it comes to writing. I'll sit down, full of inspiration, but as the scenes get hotter and the emotions get deeper, my mind... well, it wanders. A different kind of heat takes over. The words on the screen start to blur, and instead of holding my pen or typing on the keyboard, I find my fingers trailing down, and before I know it, my hand is inside my panties, which are already damp from the very thoughts I'm trying to write. It's a secret, embarrassing distraction that always leaves my stories incomplete. But writing is my passion, and I refuse to let it win! So, I tried my best to write a short story, one I could hopefully finish before my own... urges took over.
This first story is a little taboo, so please read the small disclaimer below.
(Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is intended for mature audiences only. The story contains themes of incest, which are not to be confused with or encouraged in real life.)
On top of it all, this is the first time I've ever tried to write from a boy's perspective. I've based it on what I've read and what I've imagined, but I'm really not sure if I got it right.
So, this is where I need your help. I'm putting myself out there, and I'd be so grateful for your honest thoughts. Was it just plain boring? Do you see any potential for me to improve, or do you think I should just stop writing altogether?
Every bit of feedback means the world to me as I try to navigate this new passion.
Thank you so much for reading.
Your Nihalika
Chapter 1 - Incestuous Secret
"Look what you've done to my doudou, Devar-ji, (Dekho kya kar diya aapne mere doudou ka, Devar-ji)," Anjali moaned as Harsh's mouth latched on his Bhabhi's left boob, his tongue swirling around the firm, pebbled rock nipple, enjoying the taste down his throat. His eyes flipped to her right in surprise and saw it. Two perfect, high-pressure white rivers of milk were now flowing freely from two tiny duct orifices of her dark brown, swollen nipples, while other weaker drops were glistening down her king-size areolas to land drop by drop over her pregnant belly like a broken tap before finally soaking into the silk of her yellow cotton panty within her blue saree. "Naughty Devar-ji, I told you to just drink, not suck or lick, (Naughty Devar-ji, maine kaha tha bas peelo, chooso ya chatto nahi)," she panted. "Don't play with it now, let it flow... you got me so excited, (Ab isse khelo nahi, rehne do ise flow hone... mujh itna excite kar diya)."
"Well, well, looks like the doudou-milk party already started, Bahu, (Arre arre, lagta hai doudou-milk party shuru ho gayi, Bahu)," a teasing, mature voice called out. It was Sumitra, Harsh's mother. She was passing by, wearing an old, thin red blouse. Her large cotton panty was over her saree and petticoat, all lying on the floor at the entrance door. As she passed them, Harsh couldn't help but admire his mommy's two large, old, saggy ass bums, which were deformed globes, and as she walked, the flesh didn't bounce; it swayed and jiggled with a confident, almost defiant sway. The cheeks flattened at the bottom, spreading wide where they met the tops of her thick thighs. “Who would have thought, (Kaun soch sakta tha),” she mused, looking at them, “months ago, this boy only knew the taste of beer and whiskey, (mahine pehle, is ladke ko beer aur whiskey ke swaad ke alawa kuch nahi maloom tha).”
But she had come for another reason. In front of her, the tall guy, Sameer, was fucking the full length of his dick inside his Bhabhi Sonakshi, whose moaning was not less than a cry of death. Sonakshi was Sumitra’s daughter and Harsh’s sister. There was no room for pity as he was enjoying her vulnerable short, slim, and weak body by spreading her legs wide and snatching her two ponytails as his balls would clash against her red, sore, and wide-open pussy. Despite her pain, Sonakshi was staring at her Devar, Sameer, with a knowing smirk on her face, just provoking him to ponder deeper and fiercer.
He fucked her with deep, punishing thrusts, each one making her body jolt. As he felt her tighten around him, he withdrew suddenly. Sonakshi's body convulsed, and a powerful, involuntary squirt erupted from her, a long, clear stream that made her entire body tremble.
"Arre, meri randi Bhabhi! Look at your sister, Harsh! She’s pissing like a fountain! Such a naughty, pregnant slut, (Arre, meri randi Bhabhi! Dekho apni behen ko, Harsh! Woh fountain ki tarah peshab kar rahi hai! Kitni naughty, pregnant slut!)" Sameer growled, his voice thick with lust.
"Don't look, Devar-ji... I know I'm peeing like a bitch! (Mat dekho, Devar-ji... main jaanti hoon main kutiya ki tarah peshab kar rahi hoon!)”, she whimpered into the fabric. Sonakshi hid her face in the pillow, mortified. “Just fuck me more! (Bas aur chodo mujhe!)”
Before Harsh could respond, Sonakshi, with a wicked grin, threw the pillow, her own hand flew down, slapping against her drenched, swollen pussy lips with wet smacks that mingled with the hiss of her flow.
Just then, the princess appeared at the door. "Chachu! Sameer bhaiya! " It was little Ishani. "Leave my pregnant mama and Sona aunty alone! And stop staring at my Dadi's ass! (Meri pregnant mama aur Sona aunty ko akela chhodo! Aur meri Dadi ke gand dekhna band karo!)" she charged, her voice shockingly firm. "If you're so manly, then do it to me, your little doll! (Agar itne mard ho, toh mere saath karo, apni choti doll ke saath!)"
Before anyone could react, she lifted her small dress, pulled down her pink panty, and threw it directly at her young Chachu Harsh's face. Then, she stood there, her small hand revealing her naked pussy, and declared, "Here's the real fun, a tight and tender juicy chut... come and get it if you dare! (Yeh lo asli maza, ek tight aur tender juicy chut... agar himmat hai to aao aur lo!)”
Sonakshi's giggle was the same as it had been in the store when he was buying sanitary pads, a sound that consistently marked Sameer’s humiliation, a pattern started months ago. Sameer was just a boy who peeped through a window. But now, he was on his knees, a direct result of the confidence his Bhabhi had given him after the car journey.
She was sure that even Sameer would never forget that little journey, where all this had started...
A few months earlier…
"Come on, Harsh! You're not making any effort to arrange money. At least for some beers, (Arre Harsh! Tum paise arrange karne mein kuch effort nahi kar rahe. Kam az kam beer ke liye toh kar lo,)" Sonakshi, who was reclined in the back passenger seat, leaned forward, a smirk playing on her lips provocatively. "I know why. It's because you’re just craving for my milk instead, isn’t it, rascal? (Mujhe pata hai kyu. Yeh ki tum bas mere dudh ke liye tarap rahe ho, naai, shaitaan?)"
The car hummed with a lazy afternoon heat, the city blurring past the windows.
The driver, Sameer, a broad boy from a middle-class family, chuckled, glancing at Harsh, a lanky and spoiled guy who was sitting beside him and then back at Sonakshi through the rearview mirror. Knowing Harsh's eyes were closed, his eyes lingered on the ample cleavage spilling from Sonakshi's white floral button-down dress. What is wrong with me? She's my neighbor. My Bhabhi.
She caught his stare, yet made no move to fix the two top undone buttons that did little to hide the shadowed entrance of her boobies. She knew he was trying hard to get a deeper sight of her prominent, firm breasts. Who wouldn’t glance at a young mother’s tits, especially if they were full of milk, she thought.
Instead of being coy, she slowly moved her hand, stroking her mangalsutra. The gold and black beads slid down, disappearing into the warm valley between her large, well-developed boobs. The way she was rubbing her wedding necklace along her cleavage was enough to give any man a clear idea of what she wanted him to rub in-between them.
Sameer quickly looks away. He grips the steering wheel, closes his eyes for a brief second, and mouths a silent, desperate wish formed in his mind, a plea to himself. Oh great, now my face is a red tomato. Sonakshi Bhabhi must probably seen me closing my eyes while she was giving me that teasing show. Just die, Sameer. Just die right now or just be cool like Harsh.
He took a shaky breath and forced his eyes open. Then, he lifted them to the rearview to look at her again. He saw her profile, her lips slightly parted, not angry, not annoyed, just... with a cute smile. A new, reckless thought, born of pure desperation, surged through him. Look at her, she's not angry, she's just waiting. That tease was for you! So, be nice and just reply to what she just show. Be a man. Give her a dirty comment, Sameer! Just do like Harsh used to do. This is what naughty guys do, and all ladies secretly love that. Just speak, Sameer! Just speak!
"Well, Sonakshi Bhabhi," Sameer said, his voice coming out a little thick, like he had a mouthful of cotton. He tried to tear his eyes away from her chest, "it’s not his fault for ignoring beer when… it feels like he gets drunk just from the idea of going to drink your milk... and... (Yeh beer ki wajah se nahi hai ki… lagta hai woh sirf aapke dudh peene ke khayal se hi ho jaata hai drunk... aur...)"
What... What did I just say? Milk? Bhabhi will think I'm a total cheap. He panicked inside, his heart doing a frantic drum solo against his ribs. His eyes, like two nervous little mice, darted from the road to her reflection in the mirror. But then he saw it, a flicker of movement in the rearview mirror. Her lips. They were curled into a small, knowing smile. It wasn't a smile of anger; it was a smile of... power. And that smile gave him a shot of pure, liquid courage.
"And what? Tell me, Sameer, (Aur kya? Batao, Sameer,)" as she requested him to complete his sentence, a teasing smile playing on her juicy red lips.
With a renew gut, his eyes was now searching for a glimpse of her areolas, which he knew must be visible since she was wearing a tight, undersized bra under her dress. He knew the small ones were never enough to cover her extra-large areolas, and he was certain she'd already caught him stealing a few flashes since the journey began. "And... and probably about... some well-garnished, surely abundant juice, (Aur... aur shayad... kuch well-garnished, pakka abundant juice ke baare mein,)" he finished, his gaze pointedly dropping towards her thighs.
Sonakshi, though shy at the directness of Harsh's best friend, felt a thrill of power for his newly born boldness. She turns her head slightly, and her eyes lock with his in the mirror. He freezes, wide-eyed, like a deer in headlights. His foot even slips off the accelerator for a second, causing the car to lurch, making her giving him a teasing smile.
"At least Harsh was clear with his intention and bold enough to ask for it openly, (Kam se kam Harsh apne niyat mein clear tha aur itna bold tha ki woh khule taur pe maangne mein himmat karta tha,)" she added teasingly, her voice a low purr. Her hand left her mangalsutra to shift to the middle of her right breast, her finger slowly circling the peak of her nipple over the thin fabric of her dress, as if putting on a show just for him. "Unlike certain next-door neighbors who just glance at others' wives through the small window in the bathroom while they're bathing or giving their son a bath, (Kuch padosiyon ke ulat, jo sirf doosre ki patniyo ko bathroom ki choti khidki se niharte hain jab woh naha rahi hoti hai ya apne bethe ko naha rahi hoti hai.)"
Sameer suddenly cough while thumping his own chest. “I wasn’t there for that. It was just pure coincidence, Bhabhi, (Main wahan isliye nahi tha. Yeh bas ek pura coincidence tha, Bhabhi,)" Sameer chimed in unconvincingly.
Harsh’s eyes remained closed, a picture of feigned sleep, but a slight smirk played on his lips. He knew exactly what Sameer used to do. He lit a cigarette on the back stairs of his house whenever she was in the bathroom. She always pulled the curtain once she saw him, not because she was aware of his dirty intentions but because she was disappointed by his lack of manhood to be as bold as Harsh.
Sonakshi’s voice sharpened, losing its playful edge. "Harsh! Wake up. Will you arrange the money or not? Because I'm telling you, there'll be no tasting of my juice or my milk today. And my husband is out of town, so this is your only chance, (Harsh! Jag jao. Tum paise arrange karoge ya nahi? Kyunki main tumhe bilaakar rahi hoon, aaj mere juice ya mere dudh ka koi swaad nahi milega. Aur mera pati bahar gaya hai, toh yeh tumhari ek hi mauka hai.)"
"Hey, don't break a sweet lady's great hope of a party, (Arre, ek meethi aurat ki party ki ummeed mat todho,)" Sameer chimed in, nudging his friend's shoulder. "Her husband is out after eight months. Think of her suffering, (Uska pati 8 mahine ke baad bahar gaya hai. Uski takleef socho.)"
Harsh's eyes cracked open. "And since when did you start taking such good notes of your pretty neighbor's schedule, Sameer? (Aur tum kabse apni khubsurat padosan ke schedule ke itne acche notes le rahe ho, Sameer?)" he teased, his voice laced with amusement.
Sameer felt her shift and knew he's been looking for too long. Panic set in. He felt his face flush with embarrassment. "I... I just heard her mother-in-law mention it from my house. She’s my neighbor, (Main... main ne bas apne ghar se uski saas yeh baat suni. Woh meri padosan hai.)"
Sonakshi scoffed, sitting back and crossing her arms under her breasts, pushing them up even further. "You were right, Sameer. Marriage sucks. Harsh here just got me pregnant, and he is a… a boy I can love but can never marry. To hide my pregnancy, I had to have this arranged marriage… so quickly with a stupid man… And now the fool doesn't even have money for a simple beer, (Tum sahi keh rahe the, Sameer. Shaadi bakwaas hai. Yeh Harsh ne mujhe pregnant kar diya, aur woh ek… aisa ladka hai jise main pyar kar sakti hoon lekin shaadi nahi kar sakti. Mera pregnancy chupane ke liye mujhe yeh arrange marriage karna pada… itni jaldi ek bewakoof aadmi se… aur ab woh ullu ko ek simple beer ke liye bhi paise nahi hain.)"
Sameer's jaw went slack. His eyes darted from Sonakshi to Harsh and back again. "What? Your son is his son? Meaning you both… You both are… oh no, it’s… it’s… (Kya? Tumhara beta uska beta hai? Matlab tum dono… tum dono ho… oh nahi, yeh… yeh…)" He was so shocked he couldn't even complete a simple sentence.
Harsh's smirk widened. "You want to say that we're cousin brother and sister? Yeah, we are! I’m her dad's brother's son! (Tum kehna chahte ho ki hum cousin brother aur sister hain? Haan, hain! Main uske papa ke bhai ka beta hoon!)"
Sameer just stared, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "But… but… that's… wow, (Lekin… lekin… yeh… wow.)"
Sonakshi leaned forward again, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as she looked at Sameer. "What's the matter, neighbor Sameer? Cat got your tongue? Or are you just wishing you were a cousin brother too? Don’t worry, I’m your next-door Bhabhi! (Kya baat hai, padosan Sameer? Billi ne tumhari zabaan pakad li? Ya tum bas yeh soch rahe ho ki kaash tum bhi cousin brother hote? Chinta mat karo, main tumhari next-door Bhabhi hoon!)" She then turned her fiery gaze back to Harsh. "And you! You get me pregnant because of that you get me married off to an idiot. I had to leave school to conceive your child and now you can't even get me a beer for a party! Useless! (Aur tum! Tumne mujhe pregnant kiya aur is wajah se mujhe ek idiot se shaadi karwa di. Apne bacche ko paida karne ke liye mujhe school chhodna pada aur ab tum mujhe ek party ke liye beer bhi nahi dilwa sakte! Bewakoof!)"
Harsh finally stirred, sitting up straight. He looked from Sameer's stunned face to Sonakshi's frustrated one, a slow, lazy grin spreading across his face. "Okay, okay! Suppose we’re going to have a party, but where? No money… no hotel… But whose house? And I can't bring you to a bar, Sonakshi. Your husband will kill me. That stupid has parents at home, am I right, Sameer? And I have my Bhabhi, my brother, her two kids, my mom... oh, it's too much trouble. What about your place... where's your kid, Sonakshi? ("Theek hai, theek hai! Maan lete hain ki hume party karni hai, lekin kahan? Paise nahi… hotel nahi… lekin kaun ghar? Aur main tumhe ek bar mein nahi le ja sakta, Sonakshi. Tumhara pati mujhe maar dega. Uske paas ghar par maa-baap hain, sahi hai na, Sameer? Aur meri Bhabhi hai, mera bhai, uske do bacche, meri maa... arre, bahut zyada pareshani hai. Tumhara ghar kaisa rahega... tumhara baccha kahan hai, Sonakshi?)"
She leaned forward and pinched his shoulder, a playful pout on her lips. "Not my kid, (Mera baccha nahi,)" she corrected him, her voice softening. "He's our sweet little baby. He's with my husband. He took him to his mother's place for the day. But my place? You’re my cousin brother, that’s okay, but what about him? (Woh hamara pyara sa chhota baccha hai. Woh mera pati ke saath hai. Usne use apni maa ke ghar le gaya hai din ke liye. Lekin mera ghar? Tum mere cousin brother ho, theek hai, lekin uska kya?)" She gestured towards Sameer. "Sameer lives next door to me! What will people say? (Sameer mere bagal mein rehta hai! Log kya kahenge?)"
Harsh glanced at Sameer's pouting face as he looked at the road silently and drove. "Just a little party between you and me, (Bas tum aur mere beech thodi si party,)" he said, his voice low and reassuring. "He'll go back to his place, (Woh apni jagah wapas jaayega.)"
Sonakshi knew Harsh was teasing. A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes as she slowly pulled the side of her white dress down, revealing more of her creamy shoulder and the strap of her orange bra.
"That’s rude, Harsh! I was hoping Sameer could join us. But you're right, it's probably safer this way, isn't it, Sameer? ("Yeh rude hai, Harsh! Main ummeed kar rahi thi ki Sameer bhi hamare saath aayega. Lekin tum sahi keh rahe ho, yeh tarah zyada safe hai, naai, Sameer?)" She purred, her eyes meeting Sameer's in the rearview mirror. "Besides, I heard a party between brother and sister must be more... private and intimate. We can listen to music and... talk. I even have a new king-sized bed that's perfect for... lounging around, watching some special movie and why not... trying some of the acts. We wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea or be traumatized when you hear the noises, my dear neighbor, ("Waise, maine suna hai ki bhai aur behen ki party zyada... private aur hoti hai. Hum music sune aur... baat karein. Mere paas ek naya king-size bed bhi hai jo... aaraam karne ke liye behtar hai, koi special movie dekhne ke liye aur kyun nahi... kuch acts try karne ke liye. Hum nahi chahte ki tumhe galat fehmi ho ya tum traumatize ho jab tum awaazein sunoge, mere pyare padosan.)" She then added, a sly smile playing on her lips while catching Sameer’s stares from the rearview, "Anyway, Harsh, is this mirror for looking at the vehicles behind or the passengers sitting behind? ("Waise, Harsh, yeh mirror peeche wali gaadiyon ke liye hai ya piche baithe huye passengers ke liye?)"
Both Harsh and Sonakshi laughed. "Let that poor boy stare. At least he's having some guts, (Usse dekhne do kamzor ladke ko. Kam az kam usme himmat toh aa rahi hai.)" Harsh said, his voice firm but playful. “Come on, Sameer! I was joking, you're invited, (Aao, Sameer! Main mazaak kar raha tha, tumko bulaya hai.)"
"But what about his parents? (Lekin uske maa-baap kya?)" Sonakshi chimed in, her voice laced with feigned concern. "They'll question him for being at his neighbor’s house when her husband is away, especially his mom, (Woh usse puchenge ki woh apni padosan ke ghar kyun hai jab uska pati bahar gaya hai, khaaskar uski maa.)"
"Don't worry about that, (Uske baare mein chinta mat karo,)" Harsh said, waving his hand dismissively. "I can come to my sister's place whenever I want. No one can question me, not even your stupid husband. And he’s my best friend. We'll just pretend that I told him to come and watch a movie… and for returning back, it would be late at night, when everyone is sleeping, ("Main apni behen ke ghar kabhi bhi aa sakta hoon. Mujhe koi sawaal nahi kar sakta, tumhare bewakoof pati ko bhi nahi. Aur woh mera best friend hai. Hum bas yeh dikhaayenge ki maine use movie dekhne ke liye kaha tha... aur wapas aane ke liye, raat ko der tak hoga, jab sab so rahe honge.)" He then turned his attention back to Sonakshi, a hungry look in his eyes. "I'll arrange for the drinks, but what about food? What are we having, vegetables? (Main drinks ka intzaam karunga, lekin khana kya hai, sabzi?)"
Sonakshi's lips curved into a wicked smile. "That's my problem, (Yeh mera problem hai,)" she said, her voice a low, seductive murmur. "Maybe some young, tender chicken legs and breast. (Shayad kuch young, tender chicken legs aur breast.)" She then turned to Sameer, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Have you ever tasted that, neighbor Sameer? (Kabhi try kiya hai, padosan Sameer?)"
Sameer shook his head slowly, a look of mock disappointment on his face. "No, (Nahi,)" he said, his voice a low rumble. Then, a slow, predatory grin spread across his face. "Chicken legs are okay, I guess. And the breast... I like the breast too. (Chicken legs theek hai, mujhe lagta hai. Aur breast... mujhe breast bhi pasand hai.)" He paused, his eyes in the rearview mirror zeroing in, as if trying to bury his face in the deep, shadowed valley of her cleavage. He imagined the soft, warm skin at the very entrance of her boobs, the way it would feel against his tongue. "But, (Lekin,)" he continued, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "I think I'd prefer... cow, Bhabhi, ("main prefer karta hoon... cow, Bhabhi.)"
Sonakshi's cheeks flushed, but she didn't back down. She leaned forward, giving him an even better view. "Well, Sameer, (Theek hai, Sameer,)" she said, her voice a sultry, breathless challenge, "if you're a very, very good boy and do exactly as you're told... maybe you'll get a taste of the whole farm, (agar tum bahut hi acche ladke ho aur jo main kehti hoon woh exactly karte ho... shayad tumhe poore farm ka swaad milega.)"
Harsh laughed, teasing Sonakshi. "A 'good boy'? Come on, Sonakshi, we're all the same age. If you weren't a school dropout to get married, we would have been in the same class... or maybe on a farmhouse by now. (Ek 'good boy'? Aao, Sonakshi, hum sab ki umar barabar hai. Agar tum shaadi karne ke liye school chhodti nahi hoti, toh hum ek hi class mein hote... ya shayad aaj tak kisi farmhouse par.)"
Sameer’s grin faded, replaced by a look of genuine awe and intrigue. He was clearly impressed by her audacity. "Damn, Sonakshi Bhabhi, a farm, (Arre, Sonakshi Bhabhi, ek farm,)" he said, his voice filled with a new respect. "You're really something else. I was just wondering... what kind of lie did you have to spin to get a whole day to yourself, away from your husband and child? (Tum sach mein kuch alag ho. Main bas yeh soch raha tha... tumne kis tarh ki jhooth ka patta baaya tha apne aap ko poora din ke liye free rakhne ke liye, apne pati aur bacche se door?)"
"When your well is overflowing, a hundred or a thousand lies flow easily, (Jab tumhara kuan se bhar jaata hai, toh sau ya hazaar jhooth aasani se nikalte hain,)" Sonakshi retorted, her eyes landing back on Harsh. "But how unfortunate I am! I called two stupid fools like you for a party, and you don't even have money for beer, (Lekin main kitni bhagyashali hoon! Maine party ke liye tumhare jaise do bewakoofon ko bulaya, aur tumhe ek beer ke liye bhi paise nahi hain.)"
Harsh glanced at her, his mind clicking into gear. "Sameer, take the next left. I'll go home and get the money, (Sameer, agla left le. Main ghar jaakar paise le aata hoon.)" He turned to look at Sonakshi, who was sitting behind them. "And you, (Aur tum,)" he said, his voice dropping to a commanding whisper, "don't you get down from the car. My Bhabhi will have a hundred questions. Why is she with you? What's the money for? Just wait in the car. I'll get the money and come back, (gaadi se neeche mat utarna. Meri Bhabhi sau sawaal poochegi. Woh tumhare saath kyun hai? Paise kya ke liye hain? Bas gaadi mein intzaar karo. Main paise le kar aata hoon)"
"But Anjali Bhabhi doesn't even know me, (Lekin Anjali Bhabhi toh mujhe jaanti hi nahi,)" she replied. "I've never met her. I hate family functions. I always find a pretext to escape... like today, (Main unse kabhi nahi mili. Mujhe family functions se nafrat hai. Main bahar jaane ka bahana hamesha dhoondti hoon... aaj ki tarah.)"
"Really? Why so? (Sachchi? Kyun?)" Sameer asked, intrigued.
"Because it's boring, (Kyunki yeh boring hai,)" she admitted bluntly. "Family with no fun. You know, I was even absent most of the time at my own wedding reception, (Bina maze waale parivaar. Tumhe pata hai, main apni apni wedding reception mein bhi zyada waqt absent rahi.)"
Harsh glanced back at her, a naughty look in his eyes. "Give him the real reason, Didi. That was suppose to be your most special day! (Use asli wajah batao, Didi. Woh tumhara sabse khaas din hona tha!)"
Sonakshi looked down, a shy smile on her face. "And I messed that day because of you, idiot cousin brother. I was most of the time in my bedroom, the bathroom, the toilet... giving that idiot a mouth-hug. His little soldier was getting so sad for me, marrying a man by force before my belly started to show our child. I had to console his poor thing. It was weeping inside me so much that day. When time came for my real honeymoon, my little peach was so sore I had to make a pretext for my stupid husband to just end with his baby-like foreplay, as if I was some novice, and then we went to bed… (Aur mainne us din tumhaare wajah se bigada, bewakoof cousin brother. Main zyada waqt apne bedroom mein, bathroom mein, toilet mein... us idiot ko mouth-hug de rahi thi. Uska little soldier mujhe itna udaas ho raha tha, ek aadmi se jabardasti shaadi kar rahi thi jab tak mera pet humare bacche ko dikhane nahi lagta tha. Mujhe uski cheez ko shanti deni thi. Woh din itna ro raha tha mere andar. Jab asli honeymoon ka waqa aaya, toh meri chhori itni dard ho gayi thi ki mujhe apne bewakoof pati se baby jaise foreplay ke saath khatam karne ka bahana banana pada, jaise ki main koi novice hoon, aur phir hum so gaye…)"
Harsh cut in, "Anyway, Sonakshi, we're here! It's better you stay in the car. Even if Bhabhi or her kids don't know you, my mom knows her niece pretty well. Instead of a beer party, you'll have to taste her homemade food and sleep with her until your husband arrives, (Waise bhi, Sonakshi, hum aa gaye hain! Yeh behtar hai ki tum gaadi mein raho. Agar Bhabhi ya uske bacche tumhe nahi jaante, toh meri maa apni niece ko khoob achhi tarah jaanti hai. Beer party ki jagah, tumhe uske ghar ka bana khana khana hoga aur uske saath soogi jab tak tumhara pati nahi aata.)"
"Yeah... your mom is so caring... I miss her, (Haan... tumhari maa itni caring hai... mujhe unki yaad aati hai,)" Sonakshi said softly. "I wonder if Anjali is also like her… (Mujhe sochta hai ki Anjali bhi unki jaisi hai...)"
"Wrong, (Galat,)" Harsh said flatly. "She’s more like the climate. Sometimes good, sometimes bad... at times, she's a cyclone and a tsunami, (Woh mausam jaisi hai. Kabhi acchi, kabhi bura... kabhi-kabhi, woh cyclone aur tsunami hoti hai.)"
As Sameer pulled the car to a stop a few distance away, Harsh turned in his seat. He reached back and, with a swift, teasing motion, stared at her robe's V-neck, almost open to show just her bra. He saw her widely spread legs, even over the dress, the gap between them a silent invitation.
Harsh, with predatory smile, dragged his hand toward her, placed it over her left leg before lifting the edge of Sonakshi's dress, which was resting over her knees. He revealed her smooth, creamy thighs slowly, giving her no time to react as he lifted it further up, giving a flash of bright orange fabric over her slim thighs which certainly got much weight after her pregnancy. She knew he saw it. The wetness had made the thin cotton panty cling to her entrance, forming a distinct, pouting middle line.
"And what's this? (Aur yeh kya hai?)" he grinned. "Is that your juice that has you so wet already, or did you oil it up in anticipation? (Yeh tumhara juice hai jo tumhe itni geela kar diya hai, ya tumne anticipation mein oil laga liya tha?)"
Sonakshi squealed, swatting his hand away, her face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and desire. "Shut up, you’re making me blush! (Chup karo, tum mujhe sharma rahe ho!)" she whispered harshly, a shy smile betraying her true feelings, shooing him away with a playful wave of her hand.
"Damn, you two are something else, supposedly brother and sister, (Arre, tum log kuch aur hi ho, so-called bhai aur behen,)" Sameer muttered, shaking his head in disbelief, a wide grin on his face. Yet, he quickly adjusted his shirt to cover the growing boner straining against his jeans.
Sonakshi noticed his fumbling and teased him, "Aww, is the good boy pretending to be innocent now, aren't you, Sameer neighbor? (Aww, kya accha ladka ab naqaab ban raha hai, naai, Sameer padosan?)"
Harsh and Sameer got out of the car with just a teasing smile as a reply to her. As Harsh walked towards his house, the smile faded from his face, replaced by the familiar weight of his home life.
***
He pushed open the door and hinted to Sameer to wait at the door as he went upstairs. Though he moved in front of her, she didn’t notice. The day had already been a slow bleed of hope for Anjali, Harsh’s Bhabhi. The afternoon light, once bright and full of promise, had bled into a dullness, casting long, somber shadows across the floor.
Anjali was a slump of despair on the sofa. She wasn't crying anymore. The tears had dried hours ago, leaving behind a gritty, hollow feeling. Her hands were curled around the edge of the cushion, her head rested heavily on the cool leather of the armrest, and her cheek turned to the silent floor.
The rare skirt and blouse she wore felt like a cruel joke. The cheerful yellow of the blouse now seemed garish under the dim light, and the smooth fabric of the skirt, elevating her buttock curves, which she had imagined would be caressed by her husband's hands, now felt rough and suffocating against her skin. This was the fourth time this month. A promise, a text message full of empty apologies, and then... nothing. Just the deafening silence of the house.
The only sound was the monotonous tick-tock of the wall clock, each tick a hammer blow against her fragile nerves before being interrupted by the noisy step of Harsh moving down the stairs, shattering the thick silence of the house. She didn’t lift her head, but her body tensed.
And then he saw her.
"Wow, Bhabhi! Look at you! (Waah, Bhabhi! Dekho tumhe!)" Harsh's voice, far too cheerful for the gloom of the room, echoed off the walls. "A skirt and blouse? That's a surprise, (Skirt aur blouse? Yeh toh shock hai.)"
Anjali’s head snapped up. For a fleeting second, a ghost of a smile touched her lips, a reflex to the unexpected compliment. But it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by the familiar, bitter shield of her misery. He saw her modern dress, not as an effort for her husband, but as a spectacle for him to comment on.
He stepped inside the living room, followed by a hesitant Sameer, who awkwardly scanned the dimly lit room. Harsh’s eyes, however, were fixed on her. He handed Sameer a thousand-rupee note with a quick, discreet movement, his friend nodding in understanding before lingering by the door.
Harsh moved toward her, a playful smirk on his face. "You should dress like that more often, Bhabhi, you look...nice, (Tumhe aise hi zyada pehenna chahiye, Bhabhi, tum lagti ho...acchi.)" He trailed off, his eyes scanning her appreciatively.
Anjali just sighed, a sound heavy with resignation. "It doesn't matter, Harsh. It's pointless, (Koi faraq nahi padta, Harsh. Yeh bekar hai.)"
"No, it's not, (Nahi, yeh faraq padta hai,)" he insisted, taking another step closer. He wanted to say something to lift her spirits, to see that smile again. "Seriously, Bhabhi, if my brother saw you right now, he'd... (Sach mein, Bhabhi, agar mera bhai tumhe abhi dekhta, toh woh...)"
But he never finished his sentence. He was completely oblivious to the storm clouds gathering in her expression. He took another step, his foot coming down on an unseen patch of oil spilled on the floor.
There was a loss of balance, and he fell hard, his trajectory sending him crashing to the ground right in front of her.
His head landed below her knees in a position that gave him a sudden, shocking, and completely accidental glimpse directly up her skirt.
The world seemed to stop. For a split second, his brain registered the sight, the accidental intimacy of enjoying the view of the soft, light chocolate expanse of her inner thighs. They were fuller than Sonakshi's but rounded and inviting, the skin a smooth, fair brown. The light fabric of her skirt was bunched around them, thighs slightly opened, and he saw the flash of her delicate pink cotton panties, a simple, innocent contrast to the light brownish skin of her legs. The fabric was taut against her, hinting at the soft, juicy flesh beneath, a sight so private, so unexpected, it stole his breath. For a moment, he forgot where he was and who he was. There was only the sight, the forbidden glimpse of his Bhabhi's most secret place.
But Anjali, her mind poisoned by loneliness and the neighbor wife's idle gossip that Harsh was a "pervert," saw only a calculating violation. The toxic seed planted by whispers had finally bloomed. She saw not an accident, but a deliberate, humiliating act. Before he could even register the fall or stammer an explanation, she was on her feet, her face a mask of fury and betrayal.
"How dare you! (Hai tumhari himmat!)" she shrieked, her voice cracking with rage and humiliation. "You pervert! You did that on purpose! (Tum pervert! Tumne jaan boojhke yeh kiya!)"
Before he could even process the accusation, she slapped him across the face with all the force of her shattered pride. The sound echoed in the silent room, sharp and brutal. The sting on his cheek was nothing compared to the hot flush of humiliation that burned his skin.
Sameer, stunned by the sudden violence, rushed to his friend's side, pulling the dazed and humiliated Harsh after seeing his anger taking shape. "Come on, man, let's go, (Aao yaar, chalo,)" he said urgently, his eyes wide with shock. He could see the clenching of Harsh's fist, the raw rage simmering just beneath the surface.
Harsh allowed himself to be pulled up, his eyes never leaving Anjali's. They were no longer teasing or confused. They were filled with a cold, hard promise of retribution. He didn't say a word as Sameer led him towards the door, leaving Anjali standing alone, trembling with rage.
***
"What's wrong, baby? Did Mommy scold you? (Kya baat hai, baby? Kya Mommy ne tumhe daanta?)” Sonakshi leaned forward again, her playful mood replaced with a genuine concern that was laced with a hint of teasing. Her voice was a soft purr, a contrast to the tension now filling the car. “What happened? What took so long? (Kya hua? itni der kyun lagi?)"
"Nothing serious, (Koi baat nahi,)" Sameer said quickly, trying to de-escalate the situation he felt brewing. "Just a little family drama, (Bas thoda sa family drama.)"
But Harsh wasn't buying it. His voice was low and cold, laced with a venomous hatred that made the air in the car feel thick and heavy. "That bitch, (Woh kutiya,)" he snarled, the word a dirty bullet in the quiet car. "That slut Bhabhi of mine... she'll pay for this, (Woh randi Bhabhi... iski yeh saza milegi.)"
"Harsh, what happened, tell me, (Harsh, kya hua, batao,)" Sonakshi asked curiously.
“Forget about that, it's nothing serious, Sonakshi Bhabhi. Please Harsh, don’t spoil Sonakshi’s party, (Iske baare mein bhool jao, yeh koi serious baat nahi, Sonakshi Bhabhi. Please Harsh, Sonakshi ki party mat kharab karo,)” Sameer chimed in to calm him.
He turned his burning gaze to Sonakshi, his anger seeking a target, a release. His hand reached back, his movements sharp and deliberate, and roughly lifted her skirt, revealing the bright orange panties. The fabric was shining in the dim light, a promise of what was to come, a dark, wet spot already blooming at the center, like a secret flower. She was eating her fingers out of shyness but didn't try to stop him. But rather, her shy smile quickly changed to a teasing one.
"Sameer, wait, (Sameer, ruk,)" Harsh commanded, his eyes never leaving Sonakshi's. His voice was a low growl, a clear order that left no room for argument. Sameer glanced at him, saw the dangerous glint in his eyes, and instinctively pressed on the brake, the car coming to a smooth stop.
As soon as the car stopped, Harsh threw his door open, got out, and yanked open the rear door, sliding in beside her. The space was cramped, intimate, and charged with his fury.
The sudden movement made Sonakshi gasp, a mix of surprise and excitement. But, seeing his face, a fear started to make her heart beating louder, what's in his dirty mind...
(To be completed...)
hotshot
The things you own, end up owning you
- 623
- 562
- 108
hotshot
The things you own, end up owning you
- 623
- 562
- 108
hotshot
The things you own, end up owning you
- 623
- 562
- 108
hotshot
The things you own, end up owning you
- 623
- 562
- 108
