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Chapter 1: First Taste of the Forbidden
April 2019
I, Anshul, nineteen years old, sat on the edge of my bed. I am tall—six feet—but my body is thin like a dry bamboo stick. Only fifty-eight kilos. My skin is fair, but it does not shine. It looks pale, like old paper. In school, boys laugh at me. They push me. They call me “Skeleton.” I say nothing. I keep my eyes down and walk away.
My father, Sanjay Kumar, is the manager in a bank. He is in the end of his forties. His hair has some grey, but his body is still strong for his age.
My mother, Sikha.
She is five feet ten inches—almost as tall as me.She is in her late 30s. People call her “a little chubby,” but that word is too small for her. Her body is full, like a ripe mango ready to fall from the tree. Her breasts are heavy and round, held tight in a black cotton bra of size 38DD. When she moves, they sway softly under her cotton saree, like two gentle hills under a green sky. Her waist has a small, sweet belly—soft, warm, the kind you want to rest your head on after a long day. Her hips are wide, her buttocks full and firm, filling the back of her saree like two perfect moons. Her skin is fair, smooth, glowing with a little sweat in the heat. When she laughs, her whole body laughs with her.
My younger sister, Shruti, is one year younger than me. She is five feet six inches. Like Ma, she is chubby in the best way. Her face is round, cheeks pink. Her breasts are growing fast—already a 36C bra. Her waist is small, but her hips flare out, and her buttocks are soft and round, pressing against her nightdress when she sits. She has long black hair that she ties in a loose braid. She is very talkative.
Up until now, my life's felt like one big string of failures—I'm basically that quiet, bullied kid in the group of friends, the one everyone overlooks. And yeah, I'm a coward at heart. I don't have the guts to stare down my problems; I just bolt from them, diving headfirst into whatever distraction I can find.
For me, that's porn. I watch way too much of it, and I end up masturbating twice a day, most days.
School-wise, I'm okay—not a star, but decent. I scraped average marks in 12th grade, which was enough to slide into a solid college nearby. It's got a good rep, but honestly, if you've got a Delhi domicile and halfway okay scores, you're basically guaranteed a spot.
Then there's my mom, who's the total opposite of me. She's this magnetic force—always the center of the room, drawing people in with her easy charm. When guys flirt with her in that sleazy, sexual way, she just plays it off like she's clueless... or maybe she really is. I still can't wrap my head around it. And on top of that, she's super into her puja and path—hours of rituals and prayers every day, like clockwork.
In mid April, my Father's older brother—Dhanjaya Kumar—hosted this big Satyanarayan puja and invited the whole family over. His place is just a 20- or 25-minute drive from ours. We headed there in the morning and caught up with everyone. I'll get into his family later—they end up playing a pretty big role in all this.
The puja was in full swing, and true to form, Mom jumped right in, helping out and getting into the flow of it all. Me? I never really clicked with my cousins—awkward vibes all around—but my sister, Shruti, fit right in like it was no big deal. The whole day dragged on for me, just pure boredom.
Then, in the evening, I saw something that planted all these doubts in my head.
The puja wrapped up, and everyone was in that mellow, post-ritual chill—totally relaxed and winding down.
Uncle Dhanjaya kept pushing us to stay the night, but we couldn't—Shruti had a unit test the next day, so we had to head home.
Right during the goodbyes, I caught it: Uncle's hand sliding onto Mom's left butt cheek over her saree. He gave it a quick squeeze and a pinch, right there in the open. I was…s.schoked by this act, as I was behind, clearly I did not see my mother's reaction, that particular act raised many doubts in my mind. The whole way back to my home I was thinking about that incident, and many questions arose in my mind.
Back home, that little moment stuck with me like a bad itch—left me feeling all twisted up and uneasy, replaying it over and over.
Then, that next day rolled around. I remember it clearly as anything: April 23rd.
Uncle Dhanjaya showed up with a six-pack of beer, same as he did pretty much every month. It was their thing—him and Papa cracking open a few and knocking 'em back, laughing about old times while the rest of us just... existed around them.
Just to paint the picture of our setup: We live in this apartment building, but our place is basically a two-story deal. Down on the first floor, you've got the living room, kitchen, a bathroom, and my parents' bedroom. Then there's this internal staircase that leads right up to the second floor, where it's just two rooms—mine and my sister's. Both have these little balconies overlooking the street.
They both cracked open those beers and got into it—Papa (Father) and Uncle, same old routine, sinking into the couch downstairs with their stories and laughs echoing up.
Upstairs, they'd shuffled things around: I got booted to my sister's room for the night, just to "make space" or whatever. It felt weird, but I didn't argue.
It was pushing midnight when I couldn't settle in there—the bed was lumpy, the air too stuffy, everything off. I figured I'd sneak back to my own spot, so I reached for the door... and it wouldn't budge. Locked. From the outside. What the hell? My brain short-circuited for a second; none of it added up.
Shaking it off, I padded over to the balcony instead, figuring I'd at least get some fresh air. Our rooms are right next to each other up there, with this narrow three-foot gap between the balconies—just a scary little void dropping five stories down to the street.
God knows what possessed me that night—some dumb mix of curiosity and restlessness—but I hauled myself over the railing and jumped it. Heart slamming the whole way, legs wobbling when I landed. Fifth floor, man; still no clue where that burst of idiot courage came from.
My door was shut tight, lights dim through the glass. I edged up to the window, peered in... and the scene inside? It hit me like a freight train, shattering everything I thought I knew.
That scene slammed into me like a punch to the nuts, all lit up by the crappy white-yellow lamp I use for studying when the lights go out. There she was—my mother—spread out on my own fucking bed, just in her skimpy orange petticoat, the thin fabric riding up her thick thighs, teasing the dark patch of her bush underneath.
And on top of her, some naked bastard, his hairy ass cheeks flexing as he sucked hard on one of her fat tits, his lips slurping and pulling at her dark nipple like it was candy, making it swell and drip with spit. His rough hand was shoved up under her petticoat, fingers knuckle-deep in her wet cunt, probably finger-fucking her sloppy hole, stirring up her juices till they leaked down her ass crack.
I rubbed my eyes raw, heart pounding like a jackhammer, praying it was a sick dream.
But nah—clear as day, that sweaty back and those familiar shoulders... it was Uncle Dhanjaya, my own goddamn uncle, turning her into his personal fucktoy. Shock froze me solid, five floors up, dick twitching in my pants even as bile rose in my throat. No sounds leaked out—just this silent, filthy show, every thrust and grind burning into my brain like porn on steroids.
He yanked her petticoat off rough, ripping it away to leave her buck-naked, her big tits flopping free, belly soft and jiggling, and that hairy cunt on full display, lips puffy and glistening like she was begging for it. She was his bitch now, legs splayed wide, knees hooked over his hips as he dove face-first into her crotch. His tongue lashed out, slurping her swollen clit, eating her dripping pussy like a starving dog—sucking her folds, tongue-fucking her hole deep, her ass lifting off the bed to grind against his ugly mug, smearing her cream all over his stubbled chin. From my spot on the balcony, peeking like a pervert, all I could stare at was his saggy, hairy ass—cheeks spreading wide with each hungry bob, his balls swinging low and heavy, probably stinking of sweat and beer.
Time dragged like torture, my cock rock-hard against my will, throbbing as I watched her squirm and arch, tits heaving with silent gasps. Then he flipped the script—the real nasty shit kicked off. He reared up on his knees, his thick cock springing out, veiny and purple-headed, slick with her spit or whatever, bigger than I'd ever imagined on a guy his age. He grabbed her thighs, spread her cunt wide open with his thumbs, and rammed it in—balls-deep in one brutal thrust, her pussy lips stretching around his fat shaft, sucking him in like a greedy whore. He started pounding her then, hips slamming down with wet, meaty smacks that I swear I could feel through the glass—her tits bouncing wild, ass cheeks rippling from the force, his cock pistoning in and out of her sloppy hole, churning up frothy cream that dripped down to soak my sheets.
It was hilarious in the worst way, a gut-wrenching clusterfuck of nerves knotting my stomach, pain stabbing my chest like betrayal on steroids, and this twisted amusement bubbling up at how wrong it all was—watching my mom get railed like a cheap slut by her own brother-in-law. But underneath? Pure trauma, the kind that scars deep, mixing horror with that filthy rush in my groin, leaving me hard, hating myself, and hooked on the view I couldn't tear away from.
He kept hammering into her like a machine gone wild, that fat cock of his—Uncle Dhanjaya's—plunging balls-deep into Mom's soaked cunt over and over in straight-up missionary, her legs wrapped loose around his waist, heels digging into his sweaty back. From my frozen spot at the window, five floors up with the night air biting my skin, I could see it all too clear under that shitty yellow lamp: her big tits smashed flat against his chest, nipples scraping his hairy skin with every thrust, her face twisted in this mix of bliss and guilt—eyes half-shut, lips parted like she was biting back moans that'd wake the dead. His ass cheeks clenched tight, dimpling with muscle as he drove in, pulling out just enough to show her pussy lips gripping his veiny shaft, all shiny and stretched, before slamming home again with a wet squelch I swore I felt in my bones.
The bed—my bed—creaked under them, sheets twisting into knots around her wide hips, her ass cheeks spreading on the mattress, one dimple peeking out where her thigh met the fabric.
Sweat poured off him, dripping onto her belly, mixing with the slick mess leaking from her hole, turning everything into a slippery, filthy puddle. She arched up once, twice, her nails raking red lines down his back, and I swear her cunt clenched hard around him—milking that cock like a hungry bitch in heat—making his balls slap louder against her ass. He grunted low, face buried in her neck, biting her shoulder as he picked up speed, fucking her raw, her thighs quivering, toes curling. It went on like that, brutal and endless, till her whole body went rigid—head thrown back, mouth open in a silent scream as she came, I think, her pussy gushing around him, soaking his pubes black. He didn't stop, just rode it out, grinding deep till his own hips stuttered, cock twitching as he unloaded inside her, flooding her womb with hot spurts that probably leaked out when he finally pulled back.
For minutes after, they just lay there tangled, a sweaty heap of limbs—him collapsed on top, his softening dick still half-buried in her cum-filled cunt, her hands stroking his back lazy-like, fingers tracing the scratches she'd left. Her breaths came in shaky hitches, tits rising and falling under his weight, one nipple peeking out all puffy and red from his earlier sucking. The room smelled like sex even from outside—musk and salt and something forbidden that twisted my gut. I should've run, screamed, anything... But nah, my hand was already down my pants, fumbling my own aching cock free, stroking slow at first, thumb smearing the bead of pre-cum over my tip as I watched them catch their breath, her legs still hooked loose around him like she couldn't let go.
Then he rolled off, that spent cock flopping out with a wet pop, trailing strings of their mixed juices onto the sheets. Mom's cunt gaped open for a second—pink and wrecked, creamy white dribbling from her folds down her ass crack—before she shifted, sitting up on the edge of the bed. He stood, all smug and spent, his dick hanging heavy between his thighs, still shiny from her. She didn't hesitate, dropping to her knees right there on my floor, those full lips wrapping around his cockhead like it was her favorite treat. From the side angle through the glass, it was porn-level perfect: her heavy tits swinging free, swaying with each bob of her head, dark nipples hard as bullets brushing her arms. And that ass—god, one full cheek curved out toward me, round and soft, dimpled where it met her thigh, jiggling faint as she sucked him deeper. She worked him like a pro, tongue swirling the underside, cheeks hollowing as she took him to the back of her throat—gagging soft but pushing on, spit bubbling at the corners of her mouth, dripping down her chin to splatter on her cleavage. His hand tangled in her hair, guiding her, fucking her face slow while she hummed around him, eyes up at his like she craved the taste of their mess. My fist pumped faster now, cock throbbing in my grip, veins pulsing as I matched her rhythm, imagining those lips on me, that tongue lapping my balls—hating how hard it made me, how wrong it felt to leak pre-cum onto the balcony rail.
She pulled off with a gasp after a bit, strings of spit connecting her lips to his now-hard-again cock, and he flopped back onto the bed, legs spread wide. Mom climbed on quickly, straddling him reverse-style so her back was to his head—ass facing the window, giving me the money shot. Fuck, it was obscene: that plump, heart-shaped butt hovering over his crotch, cheeks parting just enough to flash her puckered asshole and the sloppy, cum-stuffed cunt below, lips still swollen and parted like an invitation. She grabbed his cock—slick and rigid—and lined it up, sinking down slow, inch by inch, her hole swallowing him whole with a greedy slurp, till she bottomed out, ass cheeks spreading flat on his thighs. From there, I got the full view—her back arched, spine dipping into that soft curve above her ass, tits hidden but her head thrown back, hair whipping as she started riding. Up and down she went, grinding her hips in filthy circles, cunt lips dragging along his shaft each time she lifted, exposing the creamy ring of their fuck-juices foaming at the base. Her ass bounced hypnotic—cheeks clapping soft against him, rippling with every drop, that tight little rosebud winking at me between the cleft. She picked up speed, moaning now—low and throaty, the sound finally cutting through like a knife—leaning forward to brace on his knees, giving me an even clearer peek at her stretched pussy devouring him, clit peeking out all engorged and begging.
I was gone by then, hand a blur on my cock, balls tight and heavy as I jerked rough, staring at her ass clench and release, the way her thighs flexed, sweat gleaming down her crack. It built fast—too fast—that sick heat coiling low, her rides syncing with my strokes till I blew, ropes of cum splattering the glass in hot, guilty bursts, vision blurring as she slammed down one last time, grinding hard, her own climax hitting with a shudder that made her ass quake. Uncle groaned under her, hands gripping her hips to hold her there, pumping up faint as he filled her again. I slumped against the wall after, spent and shaking, cock softening in my fist, the scene inside slowing to lazy rocks...
I'd already blown my load twice by then—hot, sticky ropes splattering the balcony rail the first time as she rode him reverse, then again against the window glass when they collapsed in a heap, her ass still twitching from the aftershocks. My cock was raw, spent and sore in my fist, but I couldn't peel my eyes away, slumped there like a pathetic shadow. Inside, they finally crashed out, tangled up naked on my bed—Uncle Dhanjaya spooned tight against Mom's back, his hairy arm draped over her hip, hand cupping one heavy tit possessively. Her leg hooked over his, that creamy mess from their fuck still leaking slow from her puffy cunt lips, smearing the sheets between her thighs.
They looked almost peaceful, breaths syncing in the dim lamp glow, her face soft and flushed like she'd just been properly railed and loved every second of it. Me? I was wrecked—dick limp, balls aching, a knot of shame and sickness churning in my gut as I watched them cuddle like lovers, not family.
Just a few minutes ticked by, the clock probably hitting 1 a.m., when he stirred. Uncle shifted, his cock—still half-chubbed and glossy—twitching against her ass cheek as he propped up on an elbow. Without a word, he grabbed her hand, fingers lacing with hers in this intimate tug that made my stomach flip. She murmured something sleepy, eyes fluttering open, but followed him anyway, sliding off the bed like it was the most natural thing—her bare feet padding soft on the floor, tits swaying heavy with each step, nipples still peaked from the chill or the thrill. He led her right toward the balcony door, that sliding glass I'd snuck through earlier, his free hand palming her ass cheek casually, like squeezing ripe fruit. Panic hit me like ice water—why the fuck here? The balcony's wide open, five stories down to the street where late-night cabs or nosy neighbors could glance up any second. My heart jackhammered; if they stepped out, they'd spot the cum streaks on the rail, or worse, me lurking like a creep.
"Shit, shit," I hissed under my breath, scrambling up on wobbly legs, dick flopping back into my pants as I bolted for the gap.
I lunged across that three-foot void to my sister's balcony, but in the dark—rushed and half-blind—my right foot caught the edge wrong. Slipped clean off, knee slamming the concrete ledge with a crack that shot fire up my leg. Pain exploded, hot and sharp, like I'd torn something, but adrenaline dumped it all— I tumbled forward, barely catching myself on the far railing, landing in a heap with a muffled grunt. Blood trickled warm down my shin from a gash, knee throbbing like a bitch, but I bit it back, crawling the last bit to her door on hands and knees. Fumbled the lock open—thank fuck it wasn't jammed— and dove inside, slamming it shut quiet as I could. Chest heaving, I limped to the left window, the one angled just right toward their balcony, cracking it an inch for the view. Not prime like being out there, the glass smudged and the angle off a hair, but close enough to make out every filthy detail in the silver moonlight washing over them.
They stepped out bold as brass, midnight air hitting their naked skin—him first, pulling her close by the waist, her body pressing flush to his like she belonged there. No shame, no whispers about getting caught; just this reckless heat, the city hum faint below, a distant car horn the only warning they ignored. Moonlight turned her into pure porn fantasy—a full-on MILF straight out of those taboo vids I'd jerked to a hundred times, but real and ruined. Her skin glowed pale gold, curves carved sharp: those massive tits hanging heavy and free, swaying with her breath, dark areolas wide as saucers, nipples stiff points begging to be pinched. Her belly soft and pooched just right, hips flaring wide into that juicy ass, cheeks full and dimpled, the cleft shadowed but teasing a peek at her still-swollen pussy lips peeking between her thighs. Hair tousled wild, falling over one shoulder, she looked fucked-out and feral—lips bruised from his cock, a hickey blooming fresh on her neck.
Uncle spun her gently, backing her against the railing, and that's when my eyes locked south: his dick, swinging semi-hard in the cool breeze, catching the moon like a spotlight. Not some monster porn cock—no, maybe five inches tops, average length but thick enough to stretch, veins bulging along the shaft, foreskin pulled back to show a fat purple head still tacky with their cum. Balls hung low and fuzzy, swaying as he stepped in closer.
I mean, fuck—mine's bigger, longer by an inch at least, thicker too when I'm hard, but here he was, owning her, pounding that prime cunt while I hid like a loser, knee bleeding, dick stirring traitorously again just from the sight. Shame burned hot in my cheeks, twisting with that sick envy—what I'd give to trade places, to feel her wet heat clench around me instead of stroking solo to their show. Pathetic. They were risking it all out there, bodies on display for any eagle-eyed insomniac below, and all I could do was watch, hand itching back toward my zipper, hating how it made me throb.
He backed her up against the balcony railing slow and deliberate, the metal cool under her palms as he guided her hands there—fingers splaying wide, gripping tight like she needed the anchor. Moonlight carved her body into sin, ass cheeks thrusting out proud as he nudged her feet apart with his knee, bending her at the waist till her tits dangled heavy over the drop, nipples brushing the breeze-hardened air. Her back arched deep, spine curving into that perfect MILF dip, head turning just enough to shoot him a look—half-nervous, half-wild, eyes gleaming with that forbidden thrill.
"Jeth ji(brother in law)... here? Someone might see," she whispered, voice husky and cracked, but her hips wiggled back anyway, teasing her crack open, that puckered little asshole winking under the shadow of her cum-slick cheeks.
He chuckled low, pressing his belly to her back, his thickening cock— that five-inch beast, now fully hard and throbbing like a vein-popped club—nestling hot between her ass globes, smearing leftover pussy juice up her cleft. "Let 'em watch, bhau(word used for younger sister in law). You're my dirty secret tonight," he growled, one hand sliding down her spine to part those fat cheeks wide, thumb circling her tight rosebud, testing, dipping in just the tip to make her gasp and clench.
My knee was screaming—fire shooting up my leg, warm blood trickling down my shin in sticky rivulets, pooling on the floor where I crouched at the window like a wounded animal. Should've bandaged it, limped away, anything but this... but fuck, the scene glued me there, cock twitching alive again despite the ache in my balls from two loads already. Third time? Pathetic, but I couldn't stop—hand shaking as I yanked my zipper down, fishing out my bigger dick, longer and thicker than his, veins pulsing angry as I spat in my palm and wrapped tight, stroking slowly to match the build-up. Pain blurred with the pulse in my shaft; I bit my lip bloody to stay quiet, eyes locked on her ass, heart slamming like it wanted to bust out and join.
He spat right on her hole— a fat glob landing messy, dripping down to mix with the cum still oozing from her cunt—then worked it in with his thumb, scissoring gently at first, stretching that virgin-tight ring while she whimpered and pushed back, nervous as hell. "Easy, jaan... relax that greedy ass for me," he murmured, free hand reaching around to flick her swollen clit, making her thighs quake and her hole flutter open just a hair. She was breathing ragged, tits heaving with each hitch, the nervousness twisting her face pretty—lips bitten, brows furrowed like she wasn't sure if it was fear or fire burning low. But she wanted it; her hips rolled subtle, begging without words, that asshole pulsing now, pink and greedy under his thumb's slow pump. His cock throbbed harder against her thigh, head flaring purple and leaking, pre-cum beading like dew as he lined up—rubbing the fat tip up her crack, notching it right at her backdoor, the pressure building as he leaned in.
From my spot, the view was killer—angled just right through the cracked pane to catch her cheeks spread wide, his balls hanging heavy below, brushing her pussy lips with each nudge. The sound filtered faint, muffled by glass and night wind, but enough to twist the knife: her soft "Ahh... slow, jeth ji, it's so tight..." leaking through like a dirty confession, his grunt back low and hungry. Then he pushed—head popping past her rim with a wet schlick that made her yelp, body jolting forward against the rail, tits slapping the metal. "Fuck, sikhai... so goddamn tight, sucking me in like a vice," he groaned, inching deeper, that thick shaft stretching her ring white around him, veins dragging her walls as he fed her every throbbing inch till his hairy pubes mashed her cheeks flat.
She moaned then—throaty and broken, "Mmmph... oh god, it's too much... feels so full..."—her asshole clenching wild around his base, milking him like it owned him, while his cock pulsed inside, trapped in that hot, velvet grip.
He held still a beat, letting her adjust, one hand fisting her hair to arch her neck back, the other—his index finger—shoved straight to her lips. She latched on eager, sucking it deep like it was his cock reborn, tongue swirling sloppy around the digit, moaning around it as he started to rock—short, shallow thrusts at first, pulling out halfway to show her gape, that pink tunnel winking before he slammed back in, balls slapping her cunt wet and loud.
"Suck it good, randi... taste how wet you make me," he rasped, finger-fucking her mouth in time with his hips, her spit drooling down her chin to splatter her swinging tits. The rhythm built quick—nervous twitches gone now, just raw need as he pounded her ass proper, cock throbbing fatter with each plunge, stretching her wide, her cheeks rippling from the force, that tight hole gripping him like a fist, pulling him deeper till she was babbling around his finger. "Unngh... yes, harder... fuck my ass, jrth ji a... ahh, ahh!"
Her moans punched through clearer, high and desperate, syncing with his deep grunts—"Take it, slut... this hole's mine now... mmm, fuck, so hot inside..."—the sounds fuzzy but filthy, like echoes from a porn vid cranked low, hitting my ears just enough to make my fist fly faster on my cock, pre-cum slicking my strokes as I hunched there, knee forgotten in the haze.
Halfway through the railing-rattle, she popped his finger free with a wet slurp, twisting her head back desperate—lips crashing into his in a sloppy, tongue-lashing kiss, all teeth and spit and moans muffled between them. Jeth ji... oh fuck, kiss me while you wreck me... mmmph!" she gasped into his mouth, sucking his lower lip as he devoured her, hips never slowing, slamming her ass now with full, brutal strokes—cock pistoning like a machine, throbbing so hard I could almost see it pulse through her cheeks, her ring raw and red, frothy lube bubbling out around the seal.
He growled back into the kiss, "You're my bitch, sikha... cum on my dick in that tight ass... ungh, yes!"—their tongues tangling sloppy, her tits crushed back against the rail, nipples scraping as she bucked wild, chasing it. The whole balcony's a risk—city lights flickering below, a distant dog bark warning—but they didn't give a shit, lost in the nasty symphony of slaps and moans, her body quaking as she clenched down hard, asshole spasming around him in a gushing anal orgasm that made her scream into his mouth, "Yes! Cumming... oh god, fill me!"
He lost it then, thrusting erratic, cock swelling one last throb before erupting—hot jets pumping deep into her guts, his roar muffled against her neck as he ground in, flooding her till it leaked white down her thighs.
I blew right with them—a third load ripping out in weak, guilty spurts over my hand, splattering the windowsill as my vision whited, moans echoing in my head like a curse. They slumped there after, still locked, her ass plugged on his softening cock, kisses turning soft and stolen... but me? Just another mess, bleeding and broken, hooked on the poison.
They finally peeled apart out there on the balcony, his cock slipping free from her wrecked ass with a soft, obscene pop—trailing a thick string of cum that dangled between her cheeks before snapping wet onto the floor. She straightened slowly, wincing a bit, her hole probably throbbing sore, but she just leaned into him for a sloppy kiss, tongues lazy now, like afterglow lovers stealing one last taste. "Come on, inside... before we freeze our tits off," she murmured, voice all husky and spent, grabbing his hand to tug him back through the door.
He smacked her ass light as they went—cheek jiggling under his palm—laughing low like it was their dirty little joke. The glass slid shut behind them, cutting off the moonlight show, and whatever nasty encore they had planned?
Fuck if I knew or cared right then. My body's quit on me—balls drained dry from three loads, knee pulsing like a hot coal, blood crusting sticky down my leg. No energy left to creep after them, no guts to eavesdrop on round four or whatever fresh hell waited in my room.
I hauled my wrecked ass up, limping badly to the bathroom down the hall—door clicking soft so I didn't wake Shruti, who was out cold in her bed, snoring like a baby, clueless to the family trainwreck two doors over. Flicked on the dim light, peeled off my pants, and stared at the gash: raw and ugly, skin split open from the slip, blood smeared like war paint on my shin. Rinsed it under the tap, cold water stinging like bitch-slaps, biting my lip to choke the hiss. Dabbed it dry with a towel that'd probably end up in the laundry pile tomorrow, same as the sheets soaked in their fuck-juice. Wrapped a bandage loose around it—good enough to stop the drip, not enough to kill the ache—and shuffled back to Shruti's room, collapsing onto the edge of her bed like dead weight.
My sister didn't stir, just mumbled something in her sleep and rolled away. I sat there in the dark, knees pulled up, staring at the wall like it held answers. How? Why? Mom—my fucking mom, the puja queen with her innocent smiles and endless prayers—bent over a railing, ass spread wide for her brother-in-law's cock, moaning like a porn whore while the city slept below. Uncle Dhanjaya, the beer-guzzling family clown, raw-dogging her holes like he owned them, flooding her guts with his load while Dad snored downstairs, oblivious. Betrayal hit like acid in my veins, burning hot—nerves frayed to threads, that sick arousal from watching twisting into pure gut-punch pain. Tears welled up uninvited, hot tracks spilling down my cheeks, silent at first, then choking sobs I muffled into my fist so they wouldn't echo. Devastating didn't cover it; it was a black hole ripping open in my chest, sucking in every safe memory of family dinners and hugs, spitting out shards of horror. My cock twitched faint, traitor that it was, half-hard from the flashbacks—her tits bouncing, ass clenching around him—but shame drowned it quick. I was the loser kid, jerking off to my own mom's ruin, bleeding on the floor while they cuddled naked in my bed. What the fuck was wrong with us? With me, for getting off on it?
A creak snapped at me rigid—the door easing open slowly, hinges whispering in the quiet. Footsteps soft, padding carpet—had to be her. Mom. Heart slamming, I squeezed my eyes shut tight, faking deep sleep, breath held shallow as her shadow fell over the bed. Smelled her first—sweat and sex and that faint jasmine soap she always used, mixed now with the musky tang of cum drying on her skin. She lingered, I swear I felt her eyes on me, thumb brushing my hair back gentle like when I was little and sick. Then she was gone, door clicking shut, footsteps fading down the hall toward... them, probably, to curl back into his arms reeking of her ass.
I cracked my eyes once the coast cleared, staring up at the fan blades spinning lazy circles in the dark—like a hypnotist's wheel dragging me under. Stuck there, mind looping the scenes: her lips stretched around his finger, asshole gaping pink, moans bleeding through the glass. Trauma, yeah— the word felt too clean for the wreck it left, a mental gutting that hollowed me out, leaving echoes of moans and slaps bouncing in my skull. Couldn't name it, couldn't scream it; just this numb, soul-sick void swallowing me whole. Don't know when the tears dried or the thoughts blurred—exhaustion crashed in like a hammer, body finally tapping out from the blood loss, the busts, the betrayal. Sleep dragged me under rough, dreamless black.Chapter 1: First Taste of the Forbidden
April 2019
I, Anshul, nineteen years old, sat on the edge of my bed. I am tall—six feet—but my body is thin like a dry bamboo stick. Only fifty-eight kilos. My skin is fair, but it does not shine. It looks pale, like old paper. In school, boys laugh at me. They push me. They call me “Skeleton.” I say nothing. I keep my eyes down and walk away.
My father, Sanjay Kumar, is the manager in a bank. He is in the end of his forties. His hair has some grey, but his body is still strong for his age.
My mother, Sikha.
She is five feet ten inches—almost as tall as me.She is in her late 30s. People call her “a little chubby,” but that word is too small for her. Her body is full, like a ripe mango ready to fall from the tree. Her breasts are heavy and round, held tight in a black cotton bra of size 38DD. When she moves, they sway softly under her cotton saree, like two gentle hills under a green sky. Her waist has a small, sweet belly—soft, warm, the kind you want to rest your head on after a long day. Her hips are wide, her buttocks full and firm, filling the back of her saree like two perfect moons. Her skin is fair, smooth, glowing with a little sweat in the heat. When she laughs, her whole body laughs with her.
My younger sister, Shruti, is one year younger than me. She is five feet six inches. Like Ma, she is chubby in the best way. Her face is round, cheeks pink. Her breasts are growing fast—already a 36C bra. Her waist is small, but her hips flare out, and her buttocks are soft and round, pressing against her nightdress when she sits. She has long black hair that she ties in a loose braid. She is very talkative.
Up until now, my life's felt like one big string of failures—I'm basically that quiet, bullied kid in the group of friends, the one everyone overlooks. And yeah, I'm a coward at heart. I don't have the guts to stare down my problems; I just bolt from them, diving headfirst into whatever distraction I can find.
For me, that's porn. I watch way too much of it, and I end up masturbating twice a day, most days.
School-wise, I'm okay—not a star, but decent. I scraped average marks in 12th grade, which was enough to slide into a solid college nearby. It's got a good rep, but honestly, if you've got a Delhi domicile and halfway okay scores, you're basically guaranteed a spot.
Then there's my mom, who's the total opposite of me. She's this magnetic force—always the center of the room, drawing people in with her easy charm. When guys flirt with her in that sleazy, sexual way, she just plays it off like she's clueless... or maybe she really is. I still can't wrap my head around it. And on top of that, she's super into her puja and path—hours of rituals and prayers every day, like clockwork.
In mid April, my Father's older brother—Dhanjaya Kumar—hosted this big Satyanarayan puja and invited the whole family over. His place is just a 20- or 25-minute drive from ours. We headed there in the morning and caught up with everyone. I'll get into his family later—they end up playing a pretty big role in all this.
The puja was in full swing, and true to form, Mom jumped right in, helping out and getting into the flow of it all. Me? I never really clicked with my cousins—awkward vibes all around—but my sister, Shruti, fit right in like it was no big deal. The whole day dragged on for me, just pure boredom.
Then, in the evening, I saw something that planted all these doubts in my head.
The puja wrapped up, and everyone was in that mellow, post-ritual chill—totally relaxed and winding down.
Uncle Dhanjaya kept pushing us to stay the night, but we couldn't—Shruti had a unit test the next day, so we had to head home.
Right during the goodbyes, I caught it: Uncle's hand sliding onto Mom's left butt cheek over her saree. He gave it a quick squeeze and a pinch, right there in the open. I was…s.schoked by this act, as I was behind, clearly I did not see my mother's reaction, that particular act raised many doubts in my mind. The whole way back to my home I was thinking about that incident, and many questions arose in my mind.
Back home, that little moment stuck with me like a bad itch—left me feeling all twisted up and uneasy, replaying it over and over.
Then, that next day rolled around. I remember it clearly as anything: April 23rd.
Uncle Dhanjaya showed up with a six-pack of beer, same as he did pretty much every month. It was their thing—him and Papa cracking open a few and knocking 'em back, laughing about old times while the rest of us just... existed around them.
Just to paint the picture of our setup: We live in this apartment building, but our place is basically a two-story deal. Down on the first floor, you've got the living room, kitchen, a bathroom, and my parents' bedroom. Then there's this internal staircase that leads right up to the second floor, where it's just two rooms—mine and my sister's. Both have these little balconies overlooking the street.
They both cracked open those beers and got into it—Papa (Father) and Uncle, same old routine, sinking into the couch downstairs with their stories and laughs echoing up.
Upstairs, they'd shuffled things around: I got booted to my sister's room for the night, just to "make space" or whatever. It felt weird, but I didn't argue.
It was pushing midnight when I couldn't settle in there—the bed was lumpy, the air too stuffy, everything off. I figured I'd sneak back to my own spot, so I reached for the door... and it wouldn't budge. Locked. From the outside. What the hell? My brain short-circuited for a second; none of it added up.
Shaking it off, I padded over to the balcony instead, figuring I'd at least get some fresh air. Our rooms are right next to each other up there, with this narrow three-foot gap between the balconies—just a scary little void dropping five stories down to the street.
God knows what possessed me that night—some dumb mix of curiosity and restlessness—but I hauled myself over the railing and jumped it. Heart slamming the whole way, legs wobbling when I landed. Fifth floor, man; still no clue where that burst of idiot courage came from.
My door was shut tight, lights dim through the glass. I edged up to the window, peered in... and the scene inside? It hit me like a freight train, shattering everything I thought I knew.
That scene slammed into me like a punch to the nuts, all lit up by the crappy white-yellow lamp I use for studying when the lights go out. There she was—my mother—spread out on my own fucking bed, just in her skimpy orange petticoat, the thin fabric riding up her thick thighs, teasing the dark patch of her bush underneath.
And on top of her, some naked bastard, his hairy ass cheeks flexing as he sucked hard on one of her fat tits, his lips slurping and pulling at her dark nipple like it was candy, making it swell and drip with spit. His rough hand was shoved up under her petticoat, fingers knuckle-deep in her wet cunt, probably finger-fucking her sloppy hole, stirring up her juices till they leaked down her ass crack.
I rubbed my eyes raw, heart pounding like a jackhammer, praying it was a sick dream.
But nah—clear as day, that sweaty back and those familiar shoulders... it was Uncle Dhanjaya, my own goddamn uncle, turning her into his personal fucktoy. Shock froze me solid, five floors up, dick twitching in my pants even as bile rose in my throat. No sounds leaked out—just this silent, filthy show, every thrust and grind burning into my brain like porn on steroids.
He yanked her petticoat off rough, ripping it away to leave her buck-naked, her big tits flopping free, belly soft and jiggling, and that hairy cunt on full display, lips puffy and glistening like she was begging for it. She was his bitch now, legs splayed wide, knees hooked over his hips as he dove face-first into her crotch. His tongue lashed out, slurping her swollen clit, eating her dripping pussy like a starving dog—sucking her folds, tongue-fucking her hole deep, her ass lifting off the bed to grind against his ugly mug, smearing her cream all over his stubbled chin. From my spot on the balcony, peeking like a pervert, all I could stare at was his saggy, hairy ass—cheeks spreading wide with each hungry bob, his balls swinging low and heavy, probably stinking of sweat and beer.
Time dragged like torture, my cock rock-hard against my will, throbbing as I watched her squirm and arch, tits heaving with silent gasps. Then he flipped the script—the real nasty shit kicked off. He reared up on his knees, his thick cock springing out, veiny and purple-headed, slick with her spit or whatever, bigger than I'd ever imagined on a guy his age. He grabbed her thighs, spread her cunt wide open with his thumbs, and rammed it in—balls-deep in one brutal thrust, her pussy lips stretching around his fat shaft, sucking him in like a greedy whore. He started pounding her then, hips slamming down with wet, meaty smacks that I swear I could feel through the glass—her tits bouncing wild, ass cheeks rippling from the force, his cock pistoning in and out of her sloppy hole, churning up frothy cream that dripped down to soak my sheets.
It was hilarious in the worst way, a gut-wrenching clusterfuck of nerves knotting my stomach, pain stabbing my chest like betrayal on steroids, and this twisted amusement bubbling up at how wrong it all was—watching my mom get railed like a cheap slut by her own brother-in-law. But underneath? Pure trauma, the kind that scars deep, mixing horror with that filthy rush in my groin, leaving me hard, hating myself, and hooked on the view I couldn't tear away from.
He kept hammering into her like a machine gone wild, that fat cock of his—Uncle Dhanjaya's—plunging balls-deep into Mom's soaked cunt over and over in straight-up missionary, her legs wrapped loose around his waist, heels digging into his sweaty back. From my frozen spot at the window, five floors up with the night air biting my skin, I could see it all too clear under that shitty yellow lamp: her big tits smashed flat against his chest, nipples scraping his hairy skin with every thrust, her face twisted in this mix of bliss and guilt—eyes half-shut, lips parted like she was biting back moans that'd wake the dead. His ass cheeks clenched tight, dimpling with muscle as he drove in, pulling out just enough to show her pussy lips gripping his veiny shaft, all shiny and stretched, before slamming home again with a wet squelch I swore I felt in my bones.
The bed—my bed—creaked under them, sheets twisting into knots around her wide hips, her ass cheeks spreading on the mattress, one dimple peeking out where her thigh met the fabric.
Sweat poured off him, dripping onto her belly, mixing with the slick mess leaking from her hole, turning everything into a slippery, filthy puddle. She arched up once, twice, her nails raking red lines down his back, and I swear her cunt clenched hard around him—milking that cock like a hungry bitch in heat—making his balls slap louder against her ass. He grunted low, face buried in her neck, biting her shoulder as he picked up speed, fucking her raw, her thighs quivering, toes curling. It went on like that, brutal and endless, till her whole body went rigid—head thrown back, mouth open in a silent scream as she came, I think, her pussy gushing around him, soaking his pubes black. He didn't stop, just rode it out, grinding deep till his own hips stuttered, cock twitching as he unloaded inside her, flooding her womb with hot spurts that probably leaked out when he finally pulled back.
For minutes after, they just lay there tangled, a sweaty heap of limbs—him collapsed on top, his softening dick still half-buried in her cum-filled cunt, her hands stroking his back lazy-like, fingers tracing the scratches she'd left. Her breaths came in shaky hitches, tits rising and falling under his weight, one nipple peeking out all puffy and red from his earlier sucking. The room smelled like sex even from outside—musk and salt and something forbidden that twisted my gut. I should've run, screamed, anything... But nah, my hand was already down my pants, fumbling my own aching cock free, stroking slow at first, thumb smearing the bead of pre-cum over my tip as I watched them catch their breath, her legs still hooked loose around him like she couldn't let go.
Then he rolled off, that spent cock flopping out with a wet pop, trailing strings of their mixed juices onto the sheets. Mom's cunt gaped open for a second—pink and wrecked, creamy white dribbling from her folds down her ass crack—before she shifted, sitting up on the edge of the bed. He stood, all smug and spent, his dick hanging heavy between his thighs, still shiny from her. She didn't hesitate, dropping to her knees right there on my floor, those full lips wrapping around his cockhead like it was her favorite treat. From the side angle through the glass, it was porn-level perfect: her heavy tits swinging free, swaying with each bob of her head, dark nipples hard as bullets brushing her arms. And that ass—god, one full cheek curved out toward me, round and soft, dimpled where it met her thigh, jiggling faint as she sucked him deeper. She worked him like a pro, tongue swirling the underside, cheeks hollowing as she took him to the back of her throat—gagging soft but pushing on, spit bubbling at the corners of her mouth, dripping down her chin to splatter on her cleavage. His hand tangled in her hair, guiding her, fucking her face slow while she hummed around him, eyes up at his like she craved the taste of their mess. My fist pumped faster now, cock throbbing in my grip, veins pulsing as I matched her rhythm, imagining those lips on me, that tongue lapping my balls—hating how hard it made me, how wrong it felt to leak pre-cum onto the balcony rail.
She pulled off with a gasp after a bit, strings of spit connecting her lips to his now-hard-again cock, and he flopped back onto the bed, legs spread wide. Mom climbed on quickly, straddling him reverse-style so her back was to his head—ass facing the window, giving me the money shot. Fuck, it was obscene: that plump, heart-shaped butt hovering over his crotch, cheeks parting just enough to flash her puckered asshole and the sloppy, cum-stuffed cunt below, lips still swollen and parted like an invitation. She grabbed his cock—slick and rigid—and lined it up, sinking down slow, inch by inch, her hole swallowing him whole with a greedy slurp, till she bottomed out, ass cheeks spreading flat on his thighs. From there, I got the full view—her back arched, spine dipping into that soft curve above her ass, tits hidden but her head thrown back, hair whipping as she started riding. Up and down she went, grinding her hips in filthy circles, cunt lips dragging along his shaft each time she lifted, exposing the creamy ring of their fuck-juices foaming at the base. Her ass bounced hypnotic—cheeks clapping soft against him, rippling with every drop, that tight little rosebud winking at me between the cleft. She picked up speed, moaning now—low and throaty, the sound finally cutting through like a knife—leaning forward to brace on his knees, giving me an even clearer peek at her stretched pussy devouring him, clit peeking out all engorged and begging.
I was gone by then, hand a blur on my cock, balls tight and heavy as I jerked rough, staring at her ass clench and release, the way her thighs flexed, sweat gleaming down her crack. It built fast—too fast—that sick heat coiling low, her rides syncing with my strokes till I blew, ropes of cum splattering the glass in hot, guilty bursts, vision blurring as she slammed down one last time, grinding hard, her own climax hitting with a shudder that made her ass quake. Uncle groaned under her, hands gripping her hips to hold her there, pumping up faint as he filled her again. I slumped against the wall after, spent and shaking, cock softening in my fist, the scene inside slowing to lazy rocks...
I'd already blown my load twice by then—hot, sticky ropes splattering the balcony rail the first time as she rode him reverse, then again against the window glass when they collapsed in a heap, her ass still twitching from the aftershocks. My cock was raw, spent and sore in my fist, but I couldn't peel my eyes away, slumped there like a pathetic shadow. Inside, they finally crashed out, tangled up naked on my bed—Uncle Dhanjaya spooned tight against Mom's back, his hairy arm draped over her hip, hand cupping one heavy tit possessively. Her leg hooked over his, that creamy mess from their fuck still leaking slow from her puffy cunt lips, smearing the sheets between her thighs.
They looked almost peaceful, breaths syncing in the dim lamp glow, her face soft and flushed like she'd just been properly railed and loved every second of it. Me? I was wrecked—dick limp, balls aching, a knot of shame and sickness churning in my gut as I watched them cuddle like lovers, not family.
Just a few minutes ticked by, the clock probably hitting 1 a.m., when he stirred. Uncle shifted, his cock—still half-chubbed and glossy—twitching against her ass cheek as he propped up on an elbow. Without a word, he grabbed her hand, fingers lacing with hers in this intimate tug that made my stomach flip. She murmured something sleepy, eyes fluttering open, but followed him anyway, sliding off the bed like it was the most natural thing—her bare feet padding soft on the floor, tits swaying heavy with each step, nipples still peaked from the chill or the thrill. He led her right toward the balcony door, that sliding glass I'd snuck through earlier, his free hand palming her ass cheek casually, like squeezing ripe fruit. Panic hit me like ice water—why the fuck here? The balcony's wide open, five stories down to the street where late-night cabs or nosy neighbors could glance up any second. My heart jackhammered; if they stepped out, they'd spot the cum streaks on the rail, or worse, me lurking like a creep.
"Shit, shit," I hissed under my breath, scrambling up on wobbly legs, dick flopping back into my pants as I bolted for the gap.
I lunged across that three-foot void to my sister's balcony, but in the dark—rushed and half-blind—my right foot caught the edge wrong. Slipped clean off, knee slamming the concrete ledge with a crack that shot fire up my leg. Pain exploded, hot and sharp, like I'd torn something, but adrenaline dumped it all— I tumbled forward, barely catching myself on the far railing, landing in a heap with a muffled grunt. Blood trickled warm down my shin from a gash, knee throbbing like a bitch, but I bit it back, crawling the last bit to her door on hands and knees. Fumbled the lock open—thank fuck it wasn't jammed— and dove inside, slamming it shut quiet as I could. Chest heaving, I limped to the left window, the one angled just right toward their balcony, cracking it an inch for the view. Not prime like being out there, the glass smudged and the angle off a hair, but close enough to make out every filthy detail in the silver moonlight washing over them.
They stepped out bold as brass, midnight air hitting their naked skin—him first, pulling her close by the waist, her body pressing flush to his like she belonged there. No shame, no whispers about getting caught; just this reckless heat, the city hum faint below, a distant car horn the only warning they ignored. Moonlight turned her into pure porn fantasy—a full-on MILF straight out of those taboo vids I'd jerked to a hundred times, but real and ruined. Her skin glowed pale gold, curves carved sharp: those massive tits hanging heavy and free, swaying with her breath, dark areolas wide as saucers, nipples stiff points begging to be pinched. Her belly soft and pooched just right, hips flaring wide into that juicy ass, cheeks full and dimpled, the cleft shadowed but teasing a peek at her still-swollen pussy lips peeking between her thighs. Hair tousled wild, falling over one shoulder, she looked fucked-out and feral—lips bruised from his cock, a hickey blooming fresh on her neck.
Uncle spun her gently, backing her against the railing, and that's when my eyes locked south: his dick, swinging semi-hard in the cool breeze, catching the moon like a spotlight. Not some monster porn cock—no, maybe five inches tops, average length but thick enough to stretch, veins bulging along the shaft, foreskin pulled back to show a fat purple head still tacky with their cum. Balls hung low and fuzzy, swaying as he stepped in closer.
I mean, fuck—mine's bigger, longer by an inch at least, thicker too when I'm hard, but here he was, owning her, pounding that prime cunt while I hid like a loser, knee bleeding, dick stirring traitorously again just from the sight. Shame burned hot in my cheeks, twisting with that sick envy—what I'd give to trade places, to feel her wet heat clench around me instead of stroking solo to their show. Pathetic. They were risking it all out there, bodies on display for any eagle-eyed insomniac below, and all I could do was watch, hand itching back toward my zipper, hating how it made me throb.
He backed her up against the balcony railing slow and deliberate, the metal cool under her palms as he guided her hands there—fingers splaying wide, gripping tight like she needed the anchor. Moonlight carved her body into sin, ass cheeks thrusting out proud as he nudged her feet apart with his knee, bending her at the waist till her tits dangled heavy over the drop, nipples brushing the breeze-hardened air. Her back arched deep, spine curving into that perfect MILF dip, head turning just enough to shoot him a look—half-nervous, half-wild, eyes gleaming with that forbidden thrill.
"Jeth ji(brother in law)... here? Someone might see," she whispered, voice husky and cracked, but her hips wiggled back anyway, teasing her crack open, that puckered little asshole winking under the shadow of her cum-slick cheeks.
He chuckled low, pressing his belly to her back, his thickening cock— that five-inch beast, now fully hard and throbbing like a vein-popped club—nestling hot between her ass globes, smearing leftover pussy juice up her cleft. "Let 'em watch, bhau(word used for younger sister in law). You're my dirty secret tonight," he growled, one hand sliding down her spine to part those fat cheeks wide, thumb circling her tight rosebud, testing, dipping in just the tip to make her gasp and clench.
My knee was screaming—fire shooting up my leg, warm blood trickling down my shin in sticky rivulets, pooling on the floor where I crouched at the window like a wounded animal. Should've bandaged it, limped away, anything but this... but fuck, the scene glued me there, cock twitching alive again despite the ache in my balls from two loads already. Third time? Pathetic, but I couldn't stop—hand shaking as I yanked my zipper down, fishing out my bigger dick, longer and thicker than his, veins pulsing angry as I spat in my palm and wrapped tight, stroking slowly to match the build-up. Pain blurred with the pulse in my shaft; I bit my lip bloody to stay quiet, eyes locked on her ass, heart slamming like it wanted to bust out and join.
He spat right on her hole— a fat glob landing messy, dripping down to mix with the cum still oozing from her cunt—then worked it in with his thumb, scissoring gently at first, stretching that virgin-tight ring while she whimpered and pushed back, nervous as hell. "Easy, jaan... relax that greedy ass for me," he murmured, free hand reaching around to flick her swollen clit, making her thighs quake and her hole flutter open just a hair. She was breathing ragged, tits heaving with each hitch, the nervousness twisting her face pretty—lips bitten, brows furrowed like she wasn't sure if it was fear or fire burning low. But she wanted it; her hips rolled subtle, begging without words, that asshole pulsing now, pink and greedy under his thumb's slow pump. His cock throbbed harder against her thigh, head flaring purple and leaking, pre-cum beading like dew as he lined up—rubbing the fat tip up her crack, notching it right at her backdoor, the pressure building as he leaned in.
From my spot, the view was killer—angled just right through the cracked pane to catch her cheeks spread wide, his balls hanging heavy below, brushing her pussy lips with each nudge. The sound filtered faint, muffled by glass and night wind, but enough to twist the knife: her soft "Ahh... slow, jeth ji, it's so tight..." leaking through like a dirty confession, his grunt back low and hungry. Then he pushed—head popping past her rim with a wet schlick that made her yelp, body jolting forward against the rail, tits slapping the metal. "Fuck, sikhai... so goddamn tight, sucking me in like a vice," he groaned, inching deeper, that thick shaft stretching her ring white around him, veins dragging her walls as he fed her every throbbing inch till his hairy pubes mashed her cheeks flat.
She moaned then—throaty and broken, "Mmmph... oh god, it's too much... feels so full..."—her asshole clenching wild around his base, milking him like it owned him, while his cock pulsed inside, trapped in that hot, velvet grip.
He held still a beat, letting her adjust, one hand fisting her hair to arch her neck back, the other—his index finger—shoved straight to her lips. She latched on eager, sucking it deep like it was his cock reborn, tongue swirling sloppy around the digit, moaning around it as he started to rock—short, shallow thrusts at first, pulling out halfway to show her gape, that pink tunnel winking before he slammed back in, balls slapping her cunt wet and loud.
"Suck it good, randi... taste how wet you make me," he rasped, finger-fucking her mouth in time with his hips, her spit drooling down her chin to splatter her swinging tits. The rhythm built quick—nervous twitches gone now, just raw need as he pounded her ass proper, cock throbbing fatter with each plunge, stretching her wide, her cheeks rippling from the force, that tight hole gripping him like a fist, pulling him deeper till she was babbling around his finger. "Unngh... yes, harder... fuck my ass, jrth ji a... ahh, ahh!"
Her moans punched through clearer, high and desperate, syncing with his deep grunts—"Take it, slut... this hole's mine now... mmm, fuck, so hot inside..."—the sounds fuzzy but filthy, like echoes from a porn vid cranked low, hitting my ears just enough to make my fist fly faster on my cock, pre-cum slicking my strokes as I hunched there, knee forgotten in the haze.
Halfway through the railing-rattle, she popped his finger free with a wet slurp, twisting her head back desperate—lips crashing into his in a sloppy, tongue-lashing kiss, all teeth and spit and moans muffled between them. Jeth ji... oh fuck, kiss me while you wreck me... mmmph!" she gasped into his mouth, sucking his lower lip as he devoured her, hips never slowing, slamming her ass now with full, brutal strokes—cock pistoning like a machine, throbbing so hard I could almost see it pulse through her cheeks, her ring raw and red, frothy lube bubbling out around the seal.
He growled back into the kiss, "You're my bitch, sikha... cum on my dick in that tight ass... ungh, yes!"—their tongues tangling sloppy, her tits crushed back against the rail, nipples scraping as she bucked wild, chasing it. The whole balcony's a risk—city lights flickering below, a distant dog bark warning—but they didn't give a shit, lost in the nasty symphony of slaps and moans, her body quaking as she clenched down hard, asshole spasming around him in a gushing anal orgasm that made her scream into his mouth, "Yes! Cumming... oh god, fill me!"
He lost it then, thrusting erratic, cock swelling one last throb before erupting—hot jets pumping deep into her guts, his roar muffled against her neck as he ground in, flooding her till it leaked white down her thighs.
I blew right with them—a third load ripping out in weak, guilty spurts over my hand, splattering the windowsill as my vision whited, moans echoing in my head like a curse. They slumped there after, still locked, her ass plugged on his softening cock, kisses turning soft and stolen... but me? Just another mess, bleeding and broken, hooked on the poison.
They finally peeled apart out there on the balcony, his cock slipping free from her wrecked ass with a soft, obscene pop—trailing a thick string of cum that dangled between her cheeks before snapping wet onto the floor. She straightened slowly, wincing a bit, her hole probably throbbing sore, but she just leaned into him for a sloppy kiss, tongues lazy now, like afterglow lovers stealing one last taste. "Come on, inside... before we freeze our tits off," she murmured, voice all husky and spent, grabbing his hand to tug him back through the door.
He smacked her ass light as they went—cheek jiggling under his palm—laughing low like it was their dirty little joke. The glass slid shut behind them, cutting off the moonlight show, and whatever nasty encore they had planned?
Fuck if I knew or cared right then. My body's quit on me—balls drained dry from three loads, knee pulsing like a hot coal, blood crusting sticky down my leg. No energy left to creep after them, no guts to eavesdrop on round four or whatever fresh hell waited in my room.
I hauled my wrecked ass up, limping badly to the bathroom down the hall—door clicking soft so I didn't wake Shruti, who was out cold in her bed, snoring like a baby, clueless to the family trainwreck two doors over. Flicked on the dim light, peeled off my pants, and stared at the gash: raw and ugly, skin split open from the slip, blood smeared like war paint on my shin. Rinsed it under the tap, cold water stinging like bitch-slaps, biting my lip to choke the hiss. Dabbed it dry with a towel that'd probably end up in the laundry pile tomorrow, same as the sheets soaked in their fuck-juice. Wrapped a bandage loose around it—good enough to stop the drip, not enough to kill the ache—and shuffled back to Shruti's room, collapsing onto the edge of her bed like dead weight.
My sister didn't stir, just mumbled something in her sleep and rolled away. I sat there in the dark, knees pulled up, staring at the wall like it held answers. How? Why? Mom—my fucking mom, the puja queen with her innocent smiles and endless prayers—bent over a railing, ass spread wide for her brother-in-law's cock, moaning like a porn whore while the city slept below. Uncle Dhanjaya, the beer-guzzling family clown, raw-dogging her holes like he owned them, flooding her guts with his load while Dad snored downstairs, oblivious. Betrayal hit like acid in my veins, burning hot—nerves frayed to threads, that sick arousal from watching twisting into pure gut-punch pain. Tears welled up uninvited, hot tracks spilling down my cheeks, silent at first, then choking sobs I muffled into my fist so they wouldn't echo. Devastating didn't cover it; it was a black hole ripping open in my chest, sucking in every safe memory of family dinners and hugs, spitting out shards of horror. My cock twitched faint, traitor that it was, half-hard from the flashbacks—her tits bouncing, ass clenching around him—but shame drowned it quick. I was the loser kid, jerking off to my own mom's ruin, bleeding on the floor while they cuddled naked in my bed. What the fuck was wrong with us? With me, for getting off on it?
A creak snapped at me rigid—the door easing open slowly, hinges whispering in the quiet. Footsteps soft, padding carpet—had to be her. Mom. Heart slamming, I squeezed my eyes shut tight, faking deep sleep, breath held shallow as her shadow fell over the bed. Smelled her first—sweat and sex and that faint jasmine soap she always used, mixed now with the musky tang of cum drying on her skin. She lingered, I swear I felt her eyes on me, thumb brushing my hair back gentle like when I was little and sick. Then she was gone, door clicking shut, footsteps fading down the hall toward... them, probably, to curl back into his arms reeking of her ass.
I cracked my eyes once the coast cleared, staring up at the fan blades spinning lazy circles in the dark—like a hypnotist's wheel dragging me under. Stuck there, mind looping the scenes: her lips stretched around his finger, asshole gaping pink, moans bleeding through the glass. Trauma, yeah— the word felt too clean for the wreck it left, a mental gutting that hollowed me out, leaving echoes of moans and slaps bouncing in my skull. Couldn't name it, couldn't scream it; just this numb, soul-sick void swallowing me whole. Don't know when the tears dried or the thoughts blurred—exhaustion crashed in like a hammer, body finally tapping out from the blood loss, the busts, the betrayal. Sleep dragged me under rough, dreamless black.
April 2019
I, Anshul, nineteen years old, sat on the edge of my bed. I am tall—six feet—but my body is thin like a dry bamboo stick. Only fifty-eight kilos. My skin is fair, but it does not shine. It looks pale, like old paper. In school, boys laugh at me. They push me. They call me “Skeleton.” I say nothing. I keep my eyes down and walk away.
My father, Sanjay Kumar, is the manager in a bank. He is in the end of his forties. His hair has some grey, but his body is still strong for his age.
My mother, Sikha.
She is five feet ten inches—almost as tall as me.She is in her late 30s. People call her “a little chubby,” but that word is too small for her. Her body is full, like a ripe mango ready to fall from the tree. Her breasts are heavy and round, held tight in a black cotton bra of size 38DD. When she moves, they sway softly under her cotton saree, like two gentle hills under a green sky. Her waist has a small, sweet belly—soft, warm, the kind you want to rest your head on after a long day. Her hips are wide, her buttocks full and firm, filling the back of her saree like two perfect moons. Her skin is fair, smooth, glowing with a little sweat in the heat. When she laughs, her whole body laughs with her.
My younger sister, Shruti, is one year younger than me. She is five feet six inches. Like Ma, she is chubby in the best way. Her face is round, cheeks pink. Her breasts are growing fast—already a 36C bra. Her waist is small, but her hips flare out, and her buttocks are soft and round, pressing against her nightdress when she sits. She has long black hair that she ties in a loose braid. She is very talkative.
Up until now, my life's felt like one big string of failures—I'm basically that quiet, bullied kid in the group of friends, the one everyone overlooks. And yeah, I'm a coward at heart. I don't have the guts to stare down my problems; I just bolt from them, diving headfirst into whatever distraction I can find.
For me, that's porn. I watch way too much of it, and I end up masturbating twice a day, most days.
School-wise, I'm okay—not a star, but decent. I scraped average marks in 12th grade, which was enough to slide into a solid college nearby. It's got a good rep, but honestly, if you've got a Delhi domicile and halfway okay scores, you're basically guaranteed a spot.
Then there's my mom, who's the total opposite of me. She's this magnetic force—always the center of the room, drawing people in with her easy charm. When guys flirt with her in that sleazy, sexual way, she just plays it off like she's clueless... or maybe she really is. I still can't wrap my head around it. And on top of that, she's super into her puja and path—hours of rituals and prayers every day, like clockwork.
In mid April, my Father's older brother—Dhanjaya Kumar—hosted this big Satyanarayan puja and invited the whole family over. His place is just a 20- or 25-minute drive from ours. We headed there in the morning and caught up with everyone. I'll get into his family later—they end up playing a pretty big role in all this.
The puja was in full swing, and true to form, Mom jumped right in, helping out and getting into the flow of it all. Me? I never really clicked with my cousins—awkward vibes all around—but my sister, Shruti, fit right in like it was no big deal. The whole day dragged on for me, just pure boredom.
Then, in the evening, I saw something that planted all these doubts in my head.
The puja wrapped up, and everyone was in that mellow, post-ritual chill—totally relaxed and winding down.
Uncle Dhanjaya kept pushing us to stay the night, but we couldn't—Shruti had a unit test the next day, so we had to head home.
Right during the goodbyes, I caught it: Uncle's hand sliding onto Mom's left butt cheek over her saree. He gave it a quick squeeze and a pinch, right there in the open. I was…s.schoked by this act, as I was behind, clearly I did not see my mother's reaction, that particular act raised many doubts in my mind. The whole way back to my home I was thinking about that incident, and many questions arose in my mind.
Back home, that little moment stuck with me like a bad itch—left me feeling all twisted up and uneasy, replaying it over and over.
Then, that next day rolled around. I remember it clearly as anything: April 23rd.
Uncle Dhanjaya showed up with a six-pack of beer, same as he did pretty much every month. It was their thing—him and Papa cracking open a few and knocking 'em back, laughing about old times while the rest of us just... existed around them.
Just to paint the picture of our setup: We live in this apartment building, but our place is basically a two-story deal. Down on the first floor, you've got the living room, kitchen, a bathroom, and my parents' bedroom. Then there's this internal staircase that leads right up to the second floor, where it's just two rooms—mine and my sister's. Both have these little balconies overlooking the street.
They both cracked open those beers and got into it—Papa (Father) and Uncle, same old routine, sinking into the couch downstairs with their stories and laughs echoing up.
Upstairs, they'd shuffled things around: I got booted to my sister's room for the night, just to "make space" or whatever. It felt weird, but I didn't argue.
It was pushing midnight when I couldn't settle in there—the bed was lumpy, the air too stuffy, everything off. I figured I'd sneak back to my own spot, so I reached for the door... and it wouldn't budge. Locked. From the outside. What the hell? My brain short-circuited for a second; none of it added up.
Shaking it off, I padded over to the balcony instead, figuring I'd at least get some fresh air. Our rooms are right next to each other up there, with this narrow three-foot gap between the balconies—just a scary little void dropping five stories down to the street.
God knows what possessed me that night—some dumb mix of curiosity and restlessness—but I hauled myself over the railing and jumped it. Heart slamming the whole way, legs wobbling when I landed. Fifth floor, man; still no clue where that burst of idiot courage came from.
My door was shut tight, lights dim through the glass. I edged up to the window, peered in... and the scene inside? It hit me like a freight train, shattering everything I thought I knew.
That scene slammed into me like a punch to the nuts, all lit up by the crappy white-yellow lamp I use for studying when the lights go out. There she was—my mother—spread out on my own fucking bed, just in her skimpy orange petticoat, the thin fabric riding up her thick thighs, teasing the dark patch of her bush underneath.
And on top of her, some naked bastard, his hairy ass cheeks flexing as he sucked hard on one of her fat tits, his lips slurping and pulling at her dark nipple like it was candy, making it swell and drip with spit. His rough hand was shoved up under her petticoat, fingers knuckle-deep in her wet cunt, probably finger-fucking her sloppy hole, stirring up her juices till they leaked down her ass crack.
I rubbed my eyes raw, heart pounding like a jackhammer, praying it was a sick dream.
But nah—clear as day, that sweaty back and those familiar shoulders... it was Uncle Dhanjaya, my own goddamn uncle, turning her into his personal fucktoy. Shock froze me solid, five floors up, dick twitching in my pants even as bile rose in my throat. No sounds leaked out—just this silent, filthy show, every thrust and grind burning into my brain like porn on steroids.
He yanked her petticoat off rough, ripping it away to leave her buck-naked, her big tits flopping free, belly soft and jiggling, and that hairy cunt on full display, lips puffy and glistening like she was begging for it. She was his bitch now, legs splayed wide, knees hooked over his hips as he dove face-first into her crotch. His tongue lashed out, slurping her swollen clit, eating her dripping pussy like a starving dog—sucking her folds, tongue-fucking her hole deep, her ass lifting off the bed to grind against his ugly mug, smearing her cream all over his stubbled chin. From my spot on the balcony, peeking like a pervert, all I could stare at was his saggy, hairy ass—cheeks spreading wide with each hungry bob, his balls swinging low and heavy, probably stinking of sweat and beer.
Time dragged like torture, my cock rock-hard against my will, throbbing as I watched her squirm and arch, tits heaving with silent gasps. Then he flipped the script—the real nasty shit kicked off. He reared up on his knees, his thick cock springing out, veiny and purple-headed, slick with her spit or whatever, bigger than I'd ever imagined on a guy his age. He grabbed her thighs, spread her cunt wide open with his thumbs, and rammed it in—balls-deep in one brutal thrust, her pussy lips stretching around his fat shaft, sucking him in like a greedy whore. He started pounding her then, hips slamming down with wet, meaty smacks that I swear I could feel through the glass—her tits bouncing wild, ass cheeks rippling from the force, his cock pistoning in and out of her sloppy hole, churning up frothy cream that dripped down to soak my sheets.
It was hilarious in the worst way, a gut-wrenching clusterfuck of nerves knotting my stomach, pain stabbing my chest like betrayal on steroids, and this twisted amusement bubbling up at how wrong it all was—watching my mom get railed like a cheap slut by her own brother-in-law. But underneath? Pure trauma, the kind that scars deep, mixing horror with that filthy rush in my groin, leaving me hard, hating myself, and hooked on the view I couldn't tear away from.
He kept hammering into her like a machine gone wild, that fat cock of his—Uncle Dhanjaya's—plunging balls-deep into Mom's soaked cunt over and over in straight-up missionary, her legs wrapped loose around his waist, heels digging into his sweaty back. From my frozen spot at the window, five floors up with the night air biting my skin, I could see it all too clear under that shitty yellow lamp: her big tits smashed flat against his chest, nipples scraping his hairy skin with every thrust, her face twisted in this mix of bliss and guilt—eyes half-shut, lips parted like she was biting back moans that'd wake the dead. His ass cheeks clenched tight, dimpling with muscle as he drove in, pulling out just enough to show her pussy lips gripping his veiny shaft, all shiny and stretched, before slamming home again with a wet squelch I swore I felt in my bones.
The bed—my bed—creaked under them, sheets twisting into knots around her wide hips, her ass cheeks spreading on the mattress, one dimple peeking out where her thigh met the fabric.
Sweat poured off him, dripping onto her belly, mixing with the slick mess leaking from her hole, turning everything into a slippery, filthy puddle. She arched up once, twice, her nails raking red lines down his back, and I swear her cunt clenched hard around him—milking that cock like a hungry bitch in heat—making his balls slap louder against her ass. He grunted low, face buried in her neck, biting her shoulder as he picked up speed, fucking her raw, her thighs quivering, toes curling. It went on like that, brutal and endless, till her whole body went rigid—head thrown back, mouth open in a silent scream as she came, I think, her pussy gushing around him, soaking his pubes black. He didn't stop, just rode it out, grinding deep till his own hips stuttered, cock twitching as he unloaded inside her, flooding her womb with hot spurts that probably leaked out when he finally pulled back.
For minutes after, they just lay there tangled, a sweaty heap of limbs—him collapsed on top, his softening dick still half-buried in her cum-filled cunt, her hands stroking his back lazy-like, fingers tracing the scratches she'd left. Her breaths came in shaky hitches, tits rising and falling under his weight, one nipple peeking out all puffy and red from his earlier sucking. The room smelled like sex even from outside—musk and salt and something forbidden that twisted my gut. I should've run, screamed, anything... But nah, my hand was already down my pants, fumbling my own aching cock free, stroking slow at first, thumb smearing the bead of pre-cum over my tip as I watched them catch their breath, her legs still hooked loose around him like she couldn't let go.
Then he rolled off, that spent cock flopping out with a wet pop, trailing strings of their mixed juices onto the sheets. Mom's cunt gaped open for a second—pink and wrecked, creamy white dribbling from her folds down her ass crack—before she shifted, sitting up on the edge of the bed. He stood, all smug and spent, his dick hanging heavy between his thighs, still shiny from her. She didn't hesitate, dropping to her knees right there on my floor, those full lips wrapping around his cockhead like it was her favorite treat. From the side angle through the glass, it was porn-level perfect: her heavy tits swinging free, swaying with each bob of her head, dark nipples hard as bullets brushing her arms. And that ass—god, one full cheek curved out toward me, round and soft, dimpled where it met her thigh, jiggling faint as she sucked him deeper. She worked him like a pro, tongue swirling the underside, cheeks hollowing as she took him to the back of her throat—gagging soft but pushing on, spit bubbling at the corners of her mouth, dripping down her chin to splatter on her cleavage. His hand tangled in her hair, guiding her, fucking her face slow while she hummed around him, eyes up at his like she craved the taste of their mess. My fist pumped faster now, cock throbbing in my grip, veins pulsing as I matched her rhythm, imagining those lips on me, that tongue lapping my balls—hating how hard it made me, how wrong it felt to leak pre-cum onto the balcony rail.
She pulled off with a gasp after a bit, strings of spit connecting her lips to his now-hard-again cock, and he flopped back onto the bed, legs spread wide. Mom climbed on quickly, straddling him reverse-style so her back was to his head—ass facing the window, giving me the money shot. Fuck, it was obscene: that plump, heart-shaped butt hovering over his crotch, cheeks parting just enough to flash her puckered asshole and the sloppy, cum-stuffed cunt below, lips still swollen and parted like an invitation. She grabbed his cock—slick and rigid—and lined it up, sinking down slow, inch by inch, her hole swallowing him whole with a greedy slurp, till she bottomed out, ass cheeks spreading flat on his thighs. From there, I got the full view—her back arched, spine dipping into that soft curve above her ass, tits hidden but her head thrown back, hair whipping as she started riding. Up and down she went, grinding her hips in filthy circles, cunt lips dragging along his shaft each time she lifted, exposing the creamy ring of their fuck-juices foaming at the base. Her ass bounced hypnotic—cheeks clapping soft against him, rippling with every drop, that tight little rosebud winking at me between the cleft. She picked up speed, moaning now—low and throaty, the sound finally cutting through like a knife—leaning forward to brace on his knees, giving me an even clearer peek at her stretched pussy devouring him, clit peeking out all engorged and begging.
I was gone by then, hand a blur on my cock, balls tight and heavy as I jerked rough, staring at her ass clench and release, the way her thighs flexed, sweat gleaming down her crack. It built fast—too fast—that sick heat coiling low, her rides syncing with my strokes till I blew, ropes of cum splattering the glass in hot, guilty bursts, vision blurring as she slammed down one last time, grinding hard, her own climax hitting with a shudder that made her ass quake. Uncle groaned under her, hands gripping her hips to hold her there, pumping up faint as he filled her again. I slumped against the wall after, spent and shaking, cock softening in my fist, the scene inside slowing to lazy rocks...
I'd already blown my load twice by then—hot, sticky ropes splattering the balcony rail the first time as she rode him reverse, then again against the window glass when they collapsed in a heap, her ass still twitching from the aftershocks. My cock was raw, spent and sore in my fist, but I couldn't peel my eyes away, slumped there like a pathetic shadow. Inside, they finally crashed out, tangled up naked on my bed—Uncle Dhanjaya spooned tight against Mom's back, his hairy arm draped over her hip, hand cupping one heavy tit possessively. Her leg hooked over his, that creamy mess from their fuck still leaking slow from her puffy cunt lips, smearing the sheets between her thighs.
They looked almost peaceful, breaths syncing in the dim lamp glow, her face soft and flushed like she'd just been properly railed and loved every second of it. Me? I was wrecked—dick limp, balls aching, a knot of shame and sickness churning in my gut as I watched them cuddle like lovers, not family.
Just a few minutes ticked by, the clock probably hitting 1 a.m., when he stirred. Uncle shifted, his cock—still half-chubbed and glossy—twitching against her ass cheek as he propped up on an elbow. Without a word, he grabbed her hand, fingers lacing with hers in this intimate tug that made my stomach flip. She murmured something sleepy, eyes fluttering open, but followed him anyway, sliding off the bed like it was the most natural thing—her bare feet padding soft on the floor, tits swaying heavy with each step, nipples still peaked from the chill or the thrill. He led her right toward the balcony door, that sliding glass I'd snuck through earlier, his free hand palming her ass cheek casually, like squeezing ripe fruit. Panic hit me like ice water—why the fuck here? The balcony's wide open, five stories down to the street where late-night cabs or nosy neighbors could glance up any second. My heart jackhammered; if they stepped out, they'd spot the cum streaks on the rail, or worse, me lurking like a creep.
"Shit, shit," I hissed under my breath, scrambling up on wobbly legs, dick flopping back into my pants as I bolted for the gap.
I lunged across that three-foot void to my sister's balcony, but in the dark—rushed and half-blind—my right foot caught the edge wrong. Slipped clean off, knee slamming the concrete ledge with a crack that shot fire up my leg. Pain exploded, hot and sharp, like I'd torn something, but adrenaline dumped it all— I tumbled forward, barely catching myself on the far railing, landing in a heap with a muffled grunt. Blood trickled warm down my shin from a gash, knee throbbing like a bitch, but I bit it back, crawling the last bit to her door on hands and knees. Fumbled the lock open—thank fuck it wasn't jammed— and dove inside, slamming it shut quiet as I could. Chest heaving, I limped to the left window, the one angled just right toward their balcony, cracking it an inch for the view. Not prime like being out there, the glass smudged and the angle off a hair, but close enough to make out every filthy detail in the silver moonlight washing over them.
They stepped out bold as brass, midnight air hitting their naked skin—him first, pulling her close by the waist, her body pressing flush to his like she belonged there. No shame, no whispers about getting caught; just this reckless heat, the city hum faint below, a distant car horn the only warning they ignored. Moonlight turned her into pure porn fantasy—a full-on MILF straight out of those taboo vids I'd jerked to a hundred times, but real and ruined. Her skin glowed pale gold, curves carved sharp: those massive tits hanging heavy and free, swaying with her breath, dark areolas wide as saucers, nipples stiff points begging to be pinched. Her belly soft and pooched just right, hips flaring wide into that juicy ass, cheeks full and dimpled, the cleft shadowed but teasing a peek at her still-swollen pussy lips peeking between her thighs. Hair tousled wild, falling over one shoulder, she looked fucked-out and feral—lips bruised from his cock, a hickey blooming fresh on her neck.
Uncle spun her gently, backing her against the railing, and that's when my eyes locked south: his dick, swinging semi-hard in the cool breeze, catching the moon like a spotlight. Not some monster porn cock—no, maybe five inches tops, average length but thick enough to stretch, veins bulging along the shaft, foreskin pulled back to show a fat purple head still tacky with their cum. Balls hung low and fuzzy, swaying as he stepped in closer.
I mean, fuck—mine's bigger, longer by an inch at least, thicker too when I'm hard, but here he was, owning her, pounding that prime cunt while I hid like a loser, knee bleeding, dick stirring traitorously again just from the sight. Shame burned hot in my cheeks, twisting with that sick envy—what I'd give to trade places, to feel her wet heat clench around me instead of stroking solo to their show. Pathetic. They were risking it all out there, bodies on display for any eagle-eyed insomniac below, and all I could do was watch, hand itching back toward my zipper, hating how it made me throb.
He backed her up against the balcony railing slow and deliberate, the metal cool under her palms as he guided her hands there—fingers splaying wide, gripping tight like she needed the anchor. Moonlight carved her body into sin, ass cheeks thrusting out proud as he nudged her feet apart with his knee, bending her at the waist till her tits dangled heavy over the drop, nipples brushing the breeze-hardened air. Her back arched deep, spine curving into that perfect MILF dip, head turning just enough to shoot him a look—half-nervous, half-wild, eyes gleaming with that forbidden thrill.
"Jeth ji(brother in law)... here? Someone might see," she whispered, voice husky and cracked, but her hips wiggled back anyway, teasing her crack open, that puckered little asshole winking under the shadow of her cum-slick cheeks.
He chuckled low, pressing his belly to her back, his thickening cock— that five-inch beast, now fully hard and throbbing like a vein-popped club—nestling hot between her ass globes, smearing leftover pussy juice up her cleft. "Let 'em watch, bhau(word used for younger sister in law). You're my dirty secret tonight," he growled, one hand sliding down her spine to part those fat cheeks wide, thumb circling her tight rosebud, testing, dipping in just the tip to make her gasp and clench.
My knee was screaming—fire shooting up my leg, warm blood trickling down my shin in sticky rivulets, pooling on the floor where I crouched at the window like a wounded animal. Should've bandaged it, limped away, anything but this... but fuck, the scene glued me there, cock twitching alive again despite the ache in my balls from two loads already. Third time? Pathetic, but I couldn't stop—hand shaking as I yanked my zipper down, fishing out my bigger dick, longer and thicker than his, veins pulsing angry as I spat in my palm and wrapped tight, stroking slowly to match the build-up. Pain blurred with the pulse in my shaft; I bit my lip bloody to stay quiet, eyes locked on her ass, heart slamming like it wanted to bust out and join.
He spat right on her hole— a fat glob landing messy, dripping down to mix with the cum still oozing from her cunt—then worked it in with his thumb, scissoring gently at first, stretching that virgin-tight ring while she whimpered and pushed back, nervous as hell. "Easy, jaan... relax that greedy ass for me," he murmured, free hand reaching around to flick her swollen clit, making her thighs quake and her hole flutter open just a hair. She was breathing ragged, tits heaving with each hitch, the nervousness twisting her face pretty—lips bitten, brows furrowed like she wasn't sure if it was fear or fire burning low. But she wanted it; her hips rolled subtle, begging without words, that asshole pulsing now, pink and greedy under his thumb's slow pump. His cock throbbed harder against her thigh, head flaring purple and leaking, pre-cum beading like dew as he lined up—rubbing the fat tip up her crack, notching it right at her backdoor, the pressure building as he leaned in.
From my spot, the view was killer—angled just right through the cracked pane to catch her cheeks spread wide, his balls hanging heavy below, brushing her pussy lips with each nudge. The sound filtered faint, muffled by glass and night wind, but enough to twist the knife: her soft "Ahh... slow, jeth ji, it's so tight..." leaking through like a dirty confession, his grunt back low and hungry. Then he pushed—head popping past her rim with a wet schlick that made her yelp, body jolting forward against the rail, tits slapping the metal. "Fuck, sikhai... so goddamn tight, sucking me in like a vice," he groaned, inching deeper, that thick shaft stretching her ring white around him, veins dragging her walls as he fed her every throbbing inch till his hairy pubes mashed her cheeks flat.
She moaned then—throaty and broken, "Mmmph... oh god, it's too much... feels so full..."—her asshole clenching wild around his base, milking him like it owned him, while his cock pulsed inside, trapped in that hot, velvet grip.
He held still a beat, letting her adjust, one hand fisting her hair to arch her neck back, the other—his index finger—shoved straight to her lips. She latched on eager, sucking it deep like it was his cock reborn, tongue swirling sloppy around the digit, moaning around it as he started to rock—short, shallow thrusts at first, pulling out halfway to show her gape, that pink tunnel winking before he slammed back in, balls slapping her cunt wet and loud.
"Suck it good, randi... taste how wet you make me," he rasped, finger-fucking her mouth in time with his hips, her spit drooling down her chin to splatter her swinging tits. The rhythm built quick—nervous twitches gone now, just raw need as he pounded her ass proper, cock throbbing fatter with each plunge, stretching her wide, her cheeks rippling from the force, that tight hole gripping him like a fist, pulling him deeper till she was babbling around his finger. "Unngh... yes, harder... fuck my ass, jrth ji a... ahh, ahh!"
Her moans punched through clearer, high and desperate, syncing with his deep grunts—"Take it, slut... this hole's mine now... mmm, fuck, so hot inside..."—the sounds fuzzy but filthy, like echoes from a porn vid cranked low, hitting my ears just enough to make my fist fly faster on my cock, pre-cum slicking my strokes as I hunched there, knee forgotten in the haze.
Halfway through the railing-rattle, she popped his finger free with a wet slurp, twisting her head back desperate—lips crashing into his in a sloppy, tongue-lashing kiss, all teeth and spit and moans muffled between them. Jeth ji... oh fuck, kiss me while you wreck me... mmmph!" she gasped into his mouth, sucking his lower lip as he devoured her, hips never slowing, slamming her ass now with full, brutal strokes—cock pistoning like a machine, throbbing so hard I could almost see it pulse through her cheeks, her ring raw and red, frothy lube bubbling out around the seal.
He growled back into the kiss, "You're my bitch, sikha... cum on my dick in that tight ass... ungh, yes!"—their tongues tangling sloppy, her tits crushed back against the rail, nipples scraping as she bucked wild, chasing it. The whole balcony's a risk—city lights flickering below, a distant dog bark warning—but they didn't give a shit, lost in the nasty symphony of slaps and moans, her body quaking as she clenched down hard, asshole spasming around him in a gushing anal orgasm that made her scream into his mouth, "Yes! Cumming... oh god, fill me!"
He lost it then, thrusting erratic, cock swelling one last throb before erupting—hot jets pumping deep into her guts, his roar muffled against her neck as he ground in, flooding her till it leaked white down her thighs.
I blew right with them—a third load ripping out in weak, guilty spurts over my hand, splattering the windowsill as my vision whited, moans echoing in my head like a curse. They slumped there after, still locked, her ass plugged on his softening cock, kisses turning soft and stolen... but me? Just another mess, bleeding and broken, hooked on the poison.
They finally peeled apart out there on the balcony, his cock slipping free from her wrecked ass with a soft, obscene pop—trailing a thick string of cum that dangled between her cheeks before snapping wet onto the floor. She straightened slowly, wincing a bit, her hole probably throbbing sore, but she just leaned into him for a sloppy kiss, tongues lazy now, like afterglow lovers stealing one last taste. "Come on, inside... before we freeze our tits off," she murmured, voice all husky and spent, grabbing his hand to tug him back through the door.
He smacked her ass light as they went—cheek jiggling under his palm—laughing low like it was their dirty little joke. The glass slid shut behind them, cutting off the moonlight show, and whatever nasty encore they had planned?
Fuck if I knew or cared right then. My body's quit on me—balls drained dry from three loads, knee pulsing like a hot coal, blood crusting sticky down my leg. No energy left to creep after them, no guts to eavesdrop on round four or whatever fresh hell waited in my room.
I hauled my wrecked ass up, limping badly to the bathroom down the hall—door clicking soft so I didn't wake Shruti, who was out cold in her bed, snoring like a baby, clueless to the family trainwreck two doors over. Flicked on the dim light, peeled off my pants, and stared at the gash: raw and ugly, skin split open from the slip, blood smeared like war paint on my shin. Rinsed it under the tap, cold water stinging like bitch-slaps, biting my lip to choke the hiss. Dabbed it dry with a towel that'd probably end up in the laundry pile tomorrow, same as the sheets soaked in their fuck-juice. Wrapped a bandage loose around it—good enough to stop the drip, not enough to kill the ache—and shuffled back to Shruti's room, collapsing onto the edge of her bed like dead weight.
My sister didn't stir, just mumbled something in her sleep and rolled away. I sat there in the dark, knees pulled up, staring at the wall like it held answers. How? Why? Mom—my fucking mom, the puja queen with her innocent smiles and endless prayers—bent over a railing, ass spread wide for her brother-in-law's cock, moaning like a porn whore while the city slept below. Uncle Dhanjaya, the beer-guzzling family clown, raw-dogging her holes like he owned them, flooding her guts with his load while Dad snored downstairs, oblivious. Betrayal hit like acid in my veins, burning hot—nerves frayed to threads, that sick arousal from watching twisting into pure gut-punch pain. Tears welled up uninvited, hot tracks spilling down my cheeks, silent at first, then choking sobs I muffled into my fist so they wouldn't echo. Devastating didn't cover it; it was a black hole ripping open in my chest, sucking in every safe memory of family dinners and hugs, spitting out shards of horror. My cock twitched faint, traitor that it was, half-hard from the flashbacks—her tits bouncing, ass clenching around him—but shame drowned it quick. I was the loser kid, jerking off to my own mom's ruin, bleeding on the floor while they cuddled naked in my bed. What the fuck was wrong with us? With me, for getting off on it?
A creak snapped at me rigid—the door easing open slowly, hinges whispering in the quiet. Footsteps soft, padding carpet—had to be her. Mom. Heart slamming, I squeezed my eyes shut tight, faking deep sleep, breath held shallow as her shadow fell over the bed. Smelled her first—sweat and sex and that faint jasmine soap she always used, mixed now with the musky tang of cum drying on her skin. She lingered, I swear I felt her eyes on me, thumb brushing my hair back gentle like when I was little and sick. Then she was gone, door clicking shut, footsteps fading down the hall toward... them, probably, to curl back into his arms reeking of her ass.
I cracked my eyes once the coast cleared, staring up at the fan blades spinning lazy circles in the dark—like a hypnotist's wheel dragging me under. Stuck there, mind looping the scenes: her lips stretched around his finger, asshole gaping pink, moans bleeding through the glass. Trauma, yeah— the word felt too clean for the wreck it left, a mental gutting that hollowed me out, leaving echoes of moans and slaps bouncing in my skull. Couldn't name it, couldn't scream it; just this numb, soul-sick void swallowing me whole. Don't know when the tears dried or the thoughts blurred—exhaustion crashed in like a hammer, body finally tapping out from the blood loss, the busts, the betrayal. Sleep dragged me under rough, dreamless black.Chapter 1: First Taste of the Forbidden
April 2019
I, Anshul, nineteen years old, sat on the edge of my bed. I am tall—six feet—but my body is thin like a dry bamboo stick. Only fifty-eight kilos. My skin is fair, but it does not shine. It looks pale, like old paper. In school, boys laugh at me. They push me. They call me “Skeleton.” I say nothing. I keep my eyes down and walk away.
My father, Sanjay Kumar, is the manager in a bank. He is in the end of his forties. His hair has some grey, but his body is still strong for his age.
My mother, Sikha.
She is five feet ten inches—almost as tall as me.She is in her late 30s. People call her “a little chubby,” but that word is too small for her. Her body is full, like a ripe mango ready to fall from the tree. Her breasts are heavy and round, held tight in a black cotton bra of size 38DD. When she moves, they sway softly under her cotton saree, like two gentle hills under a green sky. Her waist has a small, sweet belly—soft, warm, the kind you want to rest your head on after a long day. Her hips are wide, her buttocks full and firm, filling the back of her saree like two perfect moons. Her skin is fair, smooth, glowing with a little sweat in the heat. When she laughs, her whole body laughs with her.
My younger sister, Shruti, is one year younger than me. She is five feet six inches. Like Ma, she is chubby in the best way. Her face is round, cheeks pink. Her breasts are growing fast—already a 36C bra. Her waist is small, but her hips flare out, and her buttocks are soft and round, pressing against her nightdress when she sits. She has long black hair that she ties in a loose braid. She is very talkative.
Up until now, my life's felt like one big string of failures—I'm basically that quiet, bullied kid in the group of friends, the one everyone overlooks. And yeah, I'm a coward at heart. I don't have the guts to stare down my problems; I just bolt from them, diving headfirst into whatever distraction I can find.
For me, that's porn. I watch way too much of it, and I end up masturbating twice a day, most days.
School-wise, I'm okay—not a star, but decent. I scraped average marks in 12th grade, which was enough to slide into a solid college nearby. It's got a good rep, but honestly, if you've got a Delhi domicile and halfway okay scores, you're basically guaranteed a spot.
Then there's my mom, who's the total opposite of me. She's this magnetic force—always the center of the room, drawing people in with her easy charm. When guys flirt with her in that sleazy, sexual way, she just plays it off like she's clueless... or maybe she really is. I still can't wrap my head around it. And on top of that, she's super into her puja and path—hours of rituals and prayers every day, like clockwork.
In mid April, my Father's older brother—Dhanjaya Kumar—hosted this big Satyanarayan puja and invited the whole family over. His place is just a 20- or 25-minute drive from ours. We headed there in the morning and caught up with everyone. I'll get into his family later—they end up playing a pretty big role in all this.
The puja was in full swing, and true to form, Mom jumped right in, helping out and getting into the flow of it all. Me? I never really clicked with my cousins—awkward vibes all around—but my sister, Shruti, fit right in like it was no big deal. The whole day dragged on for me, just pure boredom.
Then, in the evening, I saw something that planted all these doubts in my head.
The puja wrapped up, and everyone was in that mellow, post-ritual chill—totally relaxed and winding down.
Uncle Dhanjaya kept pushing us to stay the night, but we couldn't—Shruti had a unit test the next day, so we had to head home.
Right during the goodbyes, I caught it: Uncle's hand sliding onto Mom's left butt cheek over her saree. He gave it a quick squeeze and a pinch, right there in the open. I was…s.schoked by this act, as I was behind, clearly I did not see my mother's reaction, that particular act raised many doubts in my mind. The whole way back to my home I was thinking about that incident, and many questions arose in my mind.
Back home, that little moment stuck with me like a bad itch—left me feeling all twisted up and uneasy, replaying it over and over.
Then, that next day rolled around. I remember it clearly as anything: April 23rd.
Uncle Dhanjaya showed up with a six-pack of beer, same as he did pretty much every month. It was their thing—him and Papa cracking open a few and knocking 'em back, laughing about old times while the rest of us just... existed around them.
Just to paint the picture of our setup: We live in this apartment building, but our place is basically a two-story deal. Down on the first floor, you've got the living room, kitchen, a bathroom, and my parents' bedroom. Then there's this internal staircase that leads right up to the second floor, where it's just two rooms—mine and my sister's. Both have these little balconies overlooking the street.
They both cracked open those beers and got into it—Papa (Father) and Uncle, same old routine, sinking into the couch downstairs with their stories and laughs echoing up.
Upstairs, they'd shuffled things around: I got booted to my sister's room for the night, just to "make space" or whatever. It felt weird, but I didn't argue.
It was pushing midnight when I couldn't settle in there—the bed was lumpy, the air too stuffy, everything off. I figured I'd sneak back to my own spot, so I reached for the door... and it wouldn't budge. Locked. From the outside. What the hell? My brain short-circuited for a second; none of it added up.
Shaking it off, I padded over to the balcony instead, figuring I'd at least get some fresh air. Our rooms are right next to each other up there, with this narrow three-foot gap between the balconies—just a scary little void dropping five stories down to the street.
God knows what possessed me that night—some dumb mix of curiosity and restlessness—but I hauled myself over the railing and jumped it. Heart slamming the whole way, legs wobbling when I landed. Fifth floor, man; still no clue where that burst of idiot courage came from.
My door was shut tight, lights dim through the glass. I edged up to the window, peered in... and the scene inside? It hit me like a freight train, shattering everything I thought I knew.
That scene slammed into me like a punch to the nuts, all lit up by the crappy white-yellow lamp I use for studying when the lights go out. There she was—my mother—spread out on my own fucking bed, just in her skimpy orange petticoat, the thin fabric riding up her thick thighs, teasing the dark patch of her bush underneath.
And on top of her, some naked bastard, his hairy ass cheeks flexing as he sucked hard on one of her fat tits, his lips slurping and pulling at her dark nipple like it was candy, making it swell and drip with spit. His rough hand was shoved up under her petticoat, fingers knuckle-deep in her wet cunt, probably finger-fucking her sloppy hole, stirring up her juices till they leaked down her ass crack.
I rubbed my eyes raw, heart pounding like a jackhammer, praying it was a sick dream.
But nah—clear as day, that sweaty back and those familiar shoulders... it was Uncle Dhanjaya, my own goddamn uncle, turning her into his personal fucktoy. Shock froze me solid, five floors up, dick twitching in my pants even as bile rose in my throat. No sounds leaked out—just this silent, filthy show, every thrust and grind burning into my brain like porn on steroids.
He yanked her petticoat off rough, ripping it away to leave her buck-naked, her big tits flopping free, belly soft and jiggling, and that hairy cunt on full display, lips puffy and glistening like she was begging for it. She was his bitch now, legs splayed wide, knees hooked over his hips as he dove face-first into her crotch. His tongue lashed out, slurping her swollen clit, eating her dripping pussy like a starving dog—sucking her folds, tongue-fucking her hole deep, her ass lifting off the bed to grind against his ugly mug, smearing her cream all over his stubbled chin. From my spot on the balcony, peeking like a pervert, all I could stare at was his saggy, hairy ass—cheeks spreading wide with each hungry bob, his balls swinging low and heavy, probably stinking of sweat and beer.
Time dragged like torture, my cock rock-hard against my will, throbbing as I watched her squirm and arch, tits heaving with silent gasps. Then he flipped the script—the real nasty shit kicked off. He reared up on his knees, his thick cock springing out, veiny and purple-headed, slick with her spit or whatever, bigger than I'd ever imagined on a guy his age. He grabbed her thighs, spread her cunt wide open with his thumbs, and rammed it in—balls-deep in one brutal thrust, her pussy lips stretching around his fat shaft, sucking him in like a greedy whore. He started pounding her then, hips slamming down with wet, meaty smacks that I swear I could feel through the glass—her tits bouncing wild, ass cheeks rippling from the force, his cock pistoning in and out of her sloppy hole, churning up frothy cream that dripped down to soak my sheets.
It was hilarious in the worst way, a gut-wrenching clusterfuck of nerves knotting my stomach, pain stabbing my chest like betrayal on steroids, and this twisted amusement bubbling up at how wrong it all was—watching my mom get railed like a cheap slut by her own brother-in-law. But underneath? Pure trauma, the kind that scars deep, mixing horror with that filthy rush in my groin, leaving me hard, hating myself, and hooked on the view I couldn't tear away from.
He kept hammering into her like a machine gone wild, that fat cock of his—Uncle Dhanjaya's—plunging balls-deep into Mom's soaked cunt over and over in straight-up missionary, her legs wrapped loose around his waist, heels digging into his sweaty back. From my frozen spot at the window, five floors up with the night air biting my skin, I could see it all too clear under that shitty yellow lamp: her big tits smashed flat against his chest, nipples scraping his hairy skin with every thrust, her face twisted in this mix of bliss and guilt—eyes half-shut, lips parted like she was biting back moans that'd wake the dead. His ass cheeks clenched tight, dimpling with muscle as he drove in, pulling out just enough to show her pussy lips gripping his veiny shaft, all shiny and stretched, before slamming home again with a wet squelch I swore I felt in my bones.
The bed—my bed—creaked under them, sheets twisting into knots around her wide hips, her ass cheeks spreading on the mattress, one dimple peeking out where her thigh met the fabric.
Sweat poured off him, dripping onto her belly, mixing with the slick mess leaking from her hole, turning everything into a slippery, filthy puddle. She arched up once, twice, her nails raking red lines down his back, and I swear her cunt clenched hard around him—milking that cock like a hungry bitch in heat—making his balls slap louder against her ass. He grunted low, face buried in her neck, biting her shoulder as he picked up speed, fucking her raw, her thighs quivering, toes curling. It went on like that, brutal and endless, till her whole body went rigid—head thrown back, mouth open in a silent scream as she came, I think, her pussy gushing around him, soaking his pubes black. He didn't stop, just rode it out, grinding deep till his own hips stuttered, cock twitching as he unloaded inside her, flooding her womb with hot spurts that probably leaked out when he finally pulled back.
For minutes after, they just lay there tangled, a sweaty heap of limbs—him collapsed on top, his softening dick still half-buried in her cum-filled cunt, her hands stroking his back lazy-like, fingers tracing the scratches she'd left. Her breaths came in shaky hitches, tits rising and falling under his weight, one nipple peeking out all puffy and red from his earlier sucking. The room smelled like sex even from outside—musk and salt and something forbidden that twisted my gut. I should've run, screamed, anything... But nah, my hand was already down my pants, fumbling my own aching cock free, stroking slow at first, thumb smearing the bead of pre-cum over my tip as I watched them catch their breath, her legs still hooked loose around him like she couldn't let go.
Then he rolled off, that spent cock flopping out with a wet pop, trailing strings of their mixed juices onto the sheets. Mom's cunt gaped open for a second—pink and wrecked, creamy white dribbling from her folds down her ass crack—before she shifted, sitting up on the edge of the bed. He stood, all smug and spent, his dick hanging heavy between his thighs, still shiny from her. She didn't hesitate, dropping to her knees right there on my floor, those full lips wrapping around his cockhead like it was her favorite treat. From the side angle through the glass, it was porn-level perfect: her heavy tits swinging free, swaying with each bob of her head, dark nipples hard as bullets brushing her arms. And that ass—god, one full cheek curved out toward me, round and soft, dimpled where it met her thigh, jiggling faint as she sucked him deeper. She worked him like a pro, tongue swirling the underside, cheeks hollowing as she took him to the back of her throat—gagging soft but pushing on, spit bubbling at the corners of her mouth, dripping down her chin to splatter on her cleavage. His hand tangled in her hair, guiding her, fucking her face slow while she hummed around him, eyes up at his like she craved the taste of their mess. My fist pumped faster now, cock throbbing in my grip, veins pulsing as I matched her rhythm, imagining those lips on me, that tongue lapping my balls—hating how hard it made me, how wrong it felt to leak pre-cum onto the balcony rail.
She pulled off with a gasp after a bit, strings of spit connecting her lips to his now-hard-again cock, and he flopped back onto the bed, legs spread wide. Mom climbed on quickly, straddling him reverse-style so her back was to his head—ass facing the window, giving me the money shot. Fuck, it was obscene: that plump, heart-shaped butt hovering over his crotch, cheeks parting just enough to flash her puckered asshole and the sloppy, cum-stuffed cunt below, lips still swollen and parted like an invitation. She grabbed his cock—slick and rigid—and lined it up, sinking down slow, inch by inch, her hole swallowing him whole with a greedy slurp, till she bottomed out, ass cheeks spreading flat on his thighs. From there, I got the full view—her back arched, spine dipping into that soft curve above her ass, tits hidden but her head thrown back, hair whipping as she started riding. Up and down she went, grinding her hips in filthy circles, cunt lips dragging along his shaft each time she lifted, exposing the creamy ring of their fuck-juices foaming at the base. Her ass bounced hypnotic—cheeks clapping soft against him, rippling with every drop, that tight little rosebud winking at me between the cleft. She picked up speed, moaning now—low and throaty, the sound finally cutting through like a knife—leaning forward to brace on his knees, giving me an even clearer peek at her stretched pussy devouring him, clit peeking out all engorged and begging.
I was gone by then, hand a blur on my cock, balls tight and heavy as I jerked rough, staring at her ass clench and release, the way her thighs flexed, sweat gleaming down her crack. It built fast—too fast—that sick heat coiling low, her rides syncing with my strokes till I blew, ropes of cum splattering the glass in hot, guilty bursts, vision blurring as she slammed down one last time, grinding hard, her own climax hitting with a shudder that made her ass quake. Uncle groaned under her, hands gripping her hips to hold her there, pumping up faint as he filled her again. I slumped against the wall after, spent and shaking, cock softening in my fist, the scene inside slowing to lazy rocks...
I'd already blown my load twice by then—hot, sticky ropes splattering the balcony rail the first time as she rode him reverse, then again against the window glass when they collapsed in a heap, her ass still twitching from the aftershocks. My cock was raw, spent and sore in my fist, but I couldn't peel my eyes away, slumped there like a pathetic shadow. Inside, they finally crashed out, tangled up naked on my bed—Uncle Dhanjaya spooned tight against Mom's back, his hairy arm draped over her hip, hand cupping one heavy tit possessively. Her leg hooked over his, that creamy mess from their fuck still leaking slow from her puffy cunt lips, smearing the sheets between her thighs.
They looked almost peaceful, breaths syncing in the dim lamp glow, her face soft and flushed like she'd just been properly railed and loved every second of it. Me? I was wrecked—dick limp, balls aching, a knot of shame and sickness churning in my gut as I watched them cuddle like lovers, not family.
Just a few minutes ticked by, the clock probably hitting 1 a.m., when he stirred. Uncle shifted, his cock—still half-chubbed and glossy—twitching against her ass cheek as he propped up on an elbow. Without a word, he grabbed her hand, fingers lacing with hers in this intimate tug that made my stomach flip. She murmured something sleepy, eyes fluttering open, but followed him anyway, sliding off the bed like it was the most natural thing—her bare feet padding soft on the floor, tits swaying heavy with each step, nipples still peaked from the chill or the thrill. He led her right toward the balcony door, that sliding glass I'd snuck through earlier, his free hand palming her ass cheek casually, like squeezing ripe fruit. Panic hit me like ice water—why the fuck here? The balcony's wide open, five stories down to the street where late-night cabs or nosy neighbors could glance up any second. My heart jackhammered; if they stepped out, they'd spot the cum streaks on the rail, or worse, me lurking like a creep.
"Shit, shit," I hissed under my breath, scrambling up on wobbly legs, dick flopping back into my pants as I bolted for the gap.
I lunged across that three-foot void to my sister's balcony, but in the dark—rushed and half-blind—my right foot caught the edge wrong. Slipped clean off, knee slamming the concrete ledge with a crack that shot fire up my leg. Pain exploded, hot and sharp, like I'd torn something, but adrenaline dumped it all— I tumbled forward, barely catching myself on the far railing, landing in a heap with a muffled grunt. Blood trickled warm down my shin from a gash, knee throbbing like a bitch, but I bit it back, crawling the last bit to her door on hands and knees. Fumbled the lock open—thank fuck it wasn't jammed— and dove inside, slamming it shut quiet as I could. Chest heaving, I limped to the left window, the one angled just right toward their balcony, cracking it an inch for the view. Not prime like being out there, the glass smudged and the angle off a hair, but close enough to make out every filthy detail in the silver moonlight washing over them.
They stepped out bold as brass, midnight air hitting their naked skin—him first, pulling her close by the waist, her body pressing flush to his like she belonged there. No shame, no whispers about getting caught; just this reckless heat, the city hum faint below, a distant car horn the only warning they ignored. Moonlight turned her into pure porn fantasy—a full-on MILF straight out of those taboo vids I'd jerked to a hundred times, but real and ruined. Her skin glowed pale gold, curves carved sharp: those massive tits hanging heavy and free, swaying with her breath, dark areolas wide as saucers, nipples stiff points begging to be pinched. Her belly soft and pooched just right, hips flaring wide into that juicy ass, cheeks full and dimpled, the cleft shadowed but teasing a peek at her still-swollen pussy lips peeking between her thighs. Hair tousled wild, falling over one shoulder, she looked fucked-out and feral—lips bruised from his cock, a hickey blooming fresh on her neck.
Uncle spun her gently, backing her against the railing, and that's when my eyes locked south: his dick, swinging semi-hard in the cool breeze, catching the moon like a spotlight. Not some monster porn cock—no, maybe five inches tops, average length but thick enough to stretch, veins bulging along the shaft, foreskin pulled back to show a fat purple head still tacky with their cum. Balls hung low and fuzzy, swaying as he stepped in closer.
I mean, fuck—mine's bigger, longer by an inch at least, thicker too when I'm hard, but here he was, owning her, pounding that prime cunt while I hid like a loser, knee bleeding, dick stirring traitorously again just from the sight. Shame burned hot in my cheeks, twisting with that sick envy—what I'd give to trade places, to feel her wet heat clench around me instead of stroking solo to their show. Pathetic. They were risking it all out there, bodies on display for any eagle-eyed insomniac below, and all I could do was watch, hand itching back toward my zipper, hating how it made me throb.
He backed her up against the balcony railing slow and deliberate, the metal cool under her palms as he guided her hands there—fingers splaying wide, gripping tight like she needed the anchor. Moonlight carved her body into sin, ass cheeks thrusting out proud as he nudged her feet apart with his knee, bending her at the waist till her tits dangled heavy over the drop, nipples brushing the breeze-hardened air. Her back arched deep, spine curving into that perfect MILF dip, head turning just enough to shoot him a look—half-nervous, half-wild, eyes gleaming with that forbidden thrill.
"Jeth ji(brother in law)... here? Someone might see," she whispered, voice husky and cracked, but her hips wiggled back anyway, teasing her crack open, that puckered little asshole winking under the shadow of her cum-slick cheeks.
He chuckled low, pressing his belly to her back, his thickening cock— that five-inch beast, now fully hard and throbbing like a vein-popped club—nestling hot between her ass globes, smearing leftover pussy juice up her cleft. "Let 'em watch, bhau(word used for younger sister in law). You're my dirty secret tonight," he growled, one hand sliding down her spine to part those fat cheeks wide, thumb circling her tight rosebud, testing, dipping in just the tip to make her gasp and clench.
My knee was screaming—fire shooting up my leg, warm blood trickling down my shin in sticky rivulets, pooling on the floor where I crouched at the window like a wounded animal. Should've bandaged it, limped away, anything but this... but fuck, the scene glued me there, cock twitching alive again despite the ache in my balls from two loads already. Third time? Pathetic, but I couldn't stop—hand shaking as I yanked my zipper down, fishing out my bigger dick, longer and thicker than his, veins pulsing angry as I spat in my palm and wrapped tight, stroking slowly to match the build-up. Pain blurred with the pulse in my shaft; I bit my lip bloody to stay quiet, eyes locked on her ass, heart slamming like it wanted to bust out and join.
He spat right on her hole— a fat glob landing messy, dripping down to mix with the cum still oozing from her cunt—then worked it in with his thumb, scissoring gently at first, stretching that virgin-tight ring while she whimpered and pushed back, nervous as hell. "Easy, jaan... relax that greedy ass for me," he murmured, free hand reaching around to flick her swollen clit, making her thighs quake and her hole flutter open just a hair. She was breathing ragged, tits heaving with each hitch, the nervousness twisting her face pretty—lips bitten, brows furrowed like she wasn't sure if it was fear or fire burning low. But she wanted it; her hips rolled subtle, begging without words, that asshole pulsing now, pink and greedy under his thumb's slow pump. His cock throbbed harder against her thigh, head flaring purple and leaking, pre-cum beading like dew as he lined up—rubbing the fat tip up her crack, notching it right at her backdoor, the pressure building as he leaned in.
From my spot, the view was killer—angled just right through the cracked pane to catch her cheeks spread wide, his balls hanging heavy below, brushing her pussy lips with each nudge. The sound filtered faint, muffled by glass and night wind, but enough to twist the knife: her soft "Ahh... slow, jeth ji, it's so tight..." leaking through like a dirty confession, his grunt back low and hungry. Then he pushed—head popping past her rim with a wet schlick that made her yelp, body jolting forward against the rail, tits slapping the metal. "Fuck, sikhai... so goddamn tight, sucking me in like a vice," he groaned, inching deeper, that thick shaft stretching her ring white around him, veins dragging her walls as he fed her every throbbing inch till his hairy pubes mashed her cheeks flat.
She moaned then—throaty and broken, "Mmmph... oh god, it's too much... feels so full..."—her asshole clenching wild around his base, milking him like it owned him, while his cock pulsed inside, trapped in that hot, velvet grip.
He held still a beat, letting her adjust, one hand fisting her hair to arch her neck back, the other—his index finger—shoved straight to her lips. She latched on eager, sucking it deep like it was his cock reborn, tongue swirling sloppy around the digit, moaning around it as he started to rock—short, shallow thrusts at first, pulling out halfway to show her gape, that pink tunnel winking before he slammed back in, balls slapping her cunt wet and loud.
"Suck it good, randi... taste how wet you make me," he rasped, finger-fucking her mouth in time with his hips, her spit drooling down her chin to splatter her swinging tits. The rhythm built quick—nervous twitches gone now, just raw need as he pounded her ass proper, cock throbbing fatter with each plunge, stretching her wide, her cheeks rippling from the force, that tight hole gripping him like a fist, pulling him deeper till she was babbling around his finger. "Unngh... yes, harder... fuck my ass, jrth ji a... ahh, ahh!"
Her moans punched through clearer, high and desperate, syncing with his deep grunts—"Take it, slut... this hole's mine now... mmm, fuck, so hot inside..."—the sounds fuzzy but filthy, like echoes from a porn vid cranked low, hitting my ears just enough to make my fist fly faster on my cock, pre-cum slicking my strokes as I hunched there, knee forgotten in the haze.
Halfway through the railing-rattle, she popped his finger free with a wet slurp, twisting her head back desperate—lips crashing into his in a sloppy, tongue-lashing kiss, all teeth and spit and moans muffled between them. Jeth ji... oh fuck, kiss me while you wreck me... mmmph!" she gasped into his mouth, sucking his lower lip as he devoured her, hips never slowing, slamming her ass now with full, brutal strokes—cock pistoning like a machine, throbbing so hard I could almost see it pulse through her cheeks, her ring raw and red, frothy lube bubbling out around the seal.
He growled back into the kiss, "You're my bitch, sikha... cum on my dick in that tight ass... ungh, yes!"—their tongues tangling sloppy, her tits crushed back against the rail, nipples scraping as she bucked wild, chasing it. The whole balcony's a risk—city lights flickering below, a distant dog bark warning—but they didn't give a shit, lost in the nasty symphony of slaps and moans, her body quaking as she clenched down hard, asshole spasming around him in a gushing anal orgasm that made her scream into his mouth, "Yes! Cumming... oh god, fill me!"
He lost it then, thrusting erratic, cock swelling one last throb before erupting—hot jets pumping deep into her guts, his roar muffled against her neck as he ground in, flooding her till it leaked white down her thighs.
I blew right with them—a third load ripping out in weak, guilty spurts over my hand, splattering the windowsill as my vision whited, moans echoing in my head like a curse. They slumped there after, still locked, her ass plugged on his softening cock, kisses turning soft and stolen... but me? Just another mess, bleeding and broken, hooked on the poison.
They finally peeled apart out there on the balcony, his cock slipping free from her wrecked ass with a soft, obscene pop—trailing a thick string of cum that dangled between her cheeks before snapping wet onto the floor. She straightened slowly, wincing a bit, her hole probably throbbing sore, but she just leaned into him for a sloppy kiss, tongues lazy now, like afterglow lovers stealing one last taste. "Come on, inside... before we freeze our tits off," she murmured, voice all husky and spent, grabbing his hand to tug him back through the door.
He smacked her ass light as they went—cheek jiggling under his palm—laughing low like it was their dirty little joke. The glass slid shut behind them, cutting off the moonlight show, and whatever nasty encore they had planned?
Fuck if I knew or cared right then. My body's quit on me—balls drained dry from three loads, knee pulsing like a hot coal, blood crusting sticky down my leg. No energy left to creep after them, no guts to eavesdrop on round four or whatever fresh hell waited in my room.
I hauled my wrecked ass up, limping badly to the bathroom down the hall—door clicking soft so I didn't wake Shruti, who was out cold in her bed, snoring like a baby, clueless to the family trainwreck two doors over. Flicked on the dim light, peeled off my pants, and stared at the gash: raw and ugly, skin split open from the slip, blood smeared like war paint on my shin. Rinsed it under the tap, cold water stinging like bitch-slaps, biting my lip to choke the hiss. Dabbed it dry with a towel that'd probably end up in the laundry pile tomorrow, same as the sheets soaked in their fuck-juice. Wrapped a bandage loose around it—good enough to stop the drip, not enough to kill the ache—and shuffled back to Shruti's room, collapsing onto the edge of her bed like dead weight.
My sister didn't stir, just mumbled something in her sleep and rolled away. I sat there in the dark, knees pulled up, staring at the wall like it held answers. How? Why? Mom—my fucking mom, the puja queen with her innocent smiles and endless prayers—bent over a railing, ass spread wide for her brother-in-law's cock, moaning like a porn whore while the city slept below. Uncle Dhanjaya, the beer-guzzling family clown, raw-dogging her holes like he owned them, flooding her guts with his load while Dad snored downstairs, oblivious. Betrayal hit like acid in my veins, burning hot—nerves frayed to threads, that sick arousal from watching twisting into pure gut-punch pain. Tears welled up uninvited, hot tracks spilling down my cheeks, silent at first, then choking sobs I muffled into my fist so they wouldn't echo. Devastating didn't cover it; it was a black hole ripping open in my chest, sucking in every safe memory of family dinners and hugs, spitting out shards of horror. My cock twitched faint, traitor that it was, half-hard from the flashbacks—her tits bouncing, ass clenching around him—but shame drowned it quick. I was the loser kid, jerking off to my own mom's ruin, bleeding on the floor while they cuddled naked in my bed. What the fuck was wrong with us? With me, for getting off on it?
A creak snapped at me rigid—the door easing open slowly, hinges whispering in the quiet. Footsteps soft, padding carpet—had to be her. Mom. Heart slamming, I squeezed my eyes shut tight, faking deep sleep, breath held shallow as her shadow fell over the bed. Smelled her first—sweat and sex and that faint jasmine soap she always used, mixed now with the musky tang of cum drying on her skin. She lingered, I swear I felt her eyes on me, thumb brushing my hair back gentle like when I was little and sick. Then she was gone, door clicking shut, footsteps fading down the hall toward... them, probably, to curl back into his arms reeking of her ass.
I cracked my eyes once the coast cleared, staring up at the fan blades spinning lazy circles in the dark—like a hypnotist's wheel dragging me under. Stuck there, mind looping the scenes: her lips stretched around his finger, asshole gaping pink, moans bleeding through the glass. Trauma, yeah— the word felt too clean for the wreck it left, a mental gutting that hollowed me out, leaving echoes of moans and slaps bouncing in my skull. Couldn't name it, couldn't scream it; just this numb, soul-sick void swallowing me whole. Don't know when the tears dried or the thoughts blurred—exhaustion crashed in like a hammer, body finally tapping out from the blood loss, the busts, the betrayal. Sleep dragged me under rough, dreamless black.
