Incest Mrs. Chatterjee opens a massage parlor at home

[Rocky@handsome]

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Simply outstanding

[Munda007]

Is this copied from another forum? and changed it to Sister-In-Law from Mom? not all characters but main story

[cutekomal]

Is this copied from another forum? and changed it to Sister-In-Law from Mom? not all characters but main story

The background story is based on incest. I changed the tone and flavour. There is more to come. So expect a like or reputation atleast.

[cutekomal]

Sahil Chatterjee, having left a beautiful wife in Kolkata, traveled nearly three and a half thousand kilometers to Dubai, working peacefully in his office. And in his own home, in his absence, his beloved younger brother Rahul was undressing his wife and playing with her in the name of a massage. What cruel fate! The brother he trusted and gave shelter to in his home, that very brother forcefully bangd his wife, stabbing him in the back like this!
Rahul was continuously fucking Paromita. At the same time, he was kissing and sucking her cheeks, chest, mouth, and breasts. Doing this, Rahul quickly reached his climax. This was his first time, so a few moments after the continuous fuck, he ejaculated. Still, he continued to thrust his penis in and out of her vagina until his boudi also climaxed. In due time, fluid also came out from Paromita's vagina, mixing with Rahul's semen. If she didn't take a contraceptive pill in time, Paromita might face even bigger problems. But that was for later. For now, the mission was successful, from Rahul's side. And Paromita still couldn't understand if what had just happened to her was real or just a nightmare!


Silence shrouded the room for next 15 mins.


The room was heavy with a silence that seemed to hum with the lingering echoes of their forbidden act. Paromita lay naked beside Rahul, her mind a whirlwind of shock, disbelief, and a profound sense of defilement. She still couldn't fully comprehend what had just happened to her.
Paromita her voice barely a whisper, a tremor in its depths,  “Rahul… what was that? What did you… do?”
Rahul, now without his blindfold, reached out a hand, his touch light on her arm. He was basking in the afterglow, a mixture of exhilaration and possessiveness in his gaze.
Rahul, his voice low and confident, “ I made you mine, Boudi. Just as I always wanted. You said you’d allow me to fulfill my fantasy, didn't you?”
Paromita, still clouded with a mix of fear and a dazed awareness of her body, “Mine? But… I… I was trying to save you. To keep you from this. I never... I never wanted this. I only meant to be Mohini for you, to... to provide a safe alternative.”
Rahul, his fingers tracing the curve of her arm, his eyes lingering on her bare skin, which he had so recently explored with such intensity, “And you did, Mohini. You came to me. You were so beautiful, even more stunning than I imagined without your kurtis and pajamas. When you walked in, just in your bra and panty, I knew you were truly Mohini. I could smell your natural fragrance, so intoxicating.”
A shiver ran through Paromita, a mixture of repulsion and a strange, unwelcome flutter at his words, “Scent... My hair… you were supposed to be blindfolded. You were supposed to be the innocent Rahul, and I... I was supposed to be saving you. But I felt your hands everywhere. You… you fucked me, Rahul. You pushed past my limits.”



Rahul, his voice soft, almost a purr, “Perhaps I did, Boudi. But your body… it was saying something else. When my hand touched your breast, you gasped. When I kissed you, you eventually stopped resisting. Your breath, your moans… they told me you weren't entirely against it. You’re not just my Mohini; you're my Boudi, my goddess.”


Paromita's mind flashed to the moments she gave in, to the weakness in her struggles, to the unexpected sparks her body had felt, despite her mind screaming no, “No, Rahul! I was trapped. You had me cornered, your hands on my waist, your mouth on my stomach. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. My mind was screaming, but my body…” She trailed off, unable to articulate the conflicting sensations. “I am impure now. My husband's brother…”
Rahul's fingers now gently tracing the line of her jaw,” Impure? Or simply awakened, Boudi? I saw the fear in your eyes, but also a spark. A fire I never knew was there. Your soft skin, your smooth thighs, your beautiful breasts. I enjoyed every moment of touching you, feeling you. My friends just talked about massage girls in bras and panties, but you are my Boudi, you are so much more. You’re majestic. And when I finally entered you… it was like floating in an ocean of pure bliss. Nothing compared to that, Mohini. Nothing.”



Paromita closed her eyes, trying to block out his words, yet they penetrated her defenses, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable, a mix of shame and a strange, unwilling recognition of his desire. She uttered, “ An ocean of bliss for you, perhaps. For me, it felt like… a dream, or a nightmare. I gave you my trust, like a brother. I thought I could control this, fix you. But you are too stubborn, too wild. You took advantage of my attempt to help you.”


Rahul chuckled, a low, seductive sound that sent another shiver down her spine, “ I did. And you let me. You gave me so much, Boudi. You gave me a taste of what a woman’s body truly feels like, and that woman was you. I liked everything. Your eyes, even when they were full of fear. Your lips, so soft beneath mine. Your body, so incredibly responsive. I especially loved how your breasts felt in my hands, soft and heavy. And your smell... it was everywhere. It still is.” Her breath hitched as she felt his hand slowly move, tentatively, towards her waist again. The raw desire in his words was unsettling, yet it stirred something deep within her, a suppressed vulnerability she had long ignored in her married life, “ No, Rahul. Don't…”
Rahul paused, his eyes fixed on hers, a silent question in their depths. His hand remained, a silent promise. He leaned in closer, his voice a low, husky whisper, “ Is it really "no," Boudi? Or is it… "not yet"? You were so beautiful when you let go, just for a moment. I saw it. I felt it. Tell me, Boudi... didn't you feel anything at all?”


The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded, forcing Paromita to confront the unsettling truth of her own body's reluctant responses, a truth she desperately wanted to deny but could no longer ignore. Her silence was a testament to the slow, insidious burn that had begun to ignite within her, against all her will and judgment.

[cutekomal]

Hello Readers,

From here on, this story takes a twist and its an inner awakening of Paromita who accepts the fate and tries to live her life as per her wish and liking. Since, this story needs a woman empowerment approach, the tone of the literature will now take a turn into events which will be equally exciting and appealing to read.

If you have liked the story and wish to support me, please give me the reputations, I deserve and it will encourage me to write more such stories in the near future.

love,
Komal.

[cutekomal]

She lay against him, her face hidden in his chest. The air was thick and heavy, smelling of the truth they had just enacted. Rahul’s hand traced her hair, confirming his victory: "You are mine now," he murmured. She felt the heavy, comfortable weight of his claim—a possessiveness that had, for weeks, felt oppressive, but now, frighteningly, felt solid.
But the silence held an unbearable danger. If she remained here, passive, she would become merely a vessel for his relentless, youthful lust. He had claimed her body through surprise and stamina, but he had not claimed her mind. That, Paromita realized, was the final fortress. If the walls of her marriage had crumbled, she would not be buried in the debris. She would stand upon it, and survey the new territory. The responsible, morally-burdened Paromita had failed her Agni Pariksha. It was time for a new entity to emerge.


Paromita lifted her head slowly, her hair brushing against his bare chest. She met his eyes, which were still glazed with triumphant satisfaction. The raw power in his gaze confirmed her fear: he saw her as a conquered territory, forever marked by his entry.


“No, Rahul,” she said, her voice husky, a tremor running through it that wasn't fear, but a coiled tension. Rahul frowned, his satisfied smile faltering slightly. “No?”


She pushed herself up, resting on an elbow, looking down at his beautiful, young, naked body. The source text detailed his gym-trained physique, his flat stomach, the sheer size of his "anaconda" that had terrified her the first time she saw it. Now, she looked at it with critical, calculating eyes.
“You said I’m yours,” Paromita continued, letting her gaze linger over him, stripping away the lingering innocence she had once projected onto him. “That’s a big word, mine. If I am yours, then you are mine too, brother-in-law. This is not a transaction where only one party pays.”
Rahul’s eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and intense interest replacing his previous smugness. This was the shift Paromita needed; she needed to surprise Rahul 


“I don’t understand, Boudi. I thought…” he began, still trying to trace the lines of the passive surrender she had shown only moments before. Paromita cut him off, reaching out and running the back of her hand lightly, possessively, over his smooth abdomen. The soft, sensual contact seemed to snap him out of his post-coital complacency.


“You thought you won?” she whispered, leaning closer, her voice now a low, seductive register he had never heard. The nurturing, scolding voice of the boudi was gone, replaced by the dangerous allure of a woman fully aware of her own body and the power it held. “You took what you wanted, Rahul. You used your strength, and your persistence. But I gave up my body to protect my mind. Now, I want to see if you are truly mine, or just a reckless boy.”


She traced the line of his ribs, moving down toward his hips.


“Mohini promised you extras, didn’t she?” Paromita challenged, deliberately invoking the name that had been their guilt-free loophole. “She promised you pleasure without security officer raids or health risks. You got that, and more. But you forgot one thing, Rahul. Mohini is not a servant. She is a goddess of enchantment. And goddesses require worship, not just force.”


Rahul swallowed hard, his breath quickening. He realized the battlefield had just expanded, and he was no longer the sole commander.


“Worship, Boudi?” he managed, his voice now tentative. “Yes,” Paromita affirmed, her hand moving lower. “I allowed you to explore my body in the name of extras and happy endings. I let you break my boundaries. Now, I want you to remember what I did for you. I was the one who went against my family’s warnings to buy you that phone. I was the one who risked everything to save your reputation. And I was the one who decided how this would play out, even when you thought you were forcing me.”


She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. Her fingers found the soft, sensitive skin near his groin. Rahul visibly flinched, not in pain, but in stunned delight.


“I was disappointed in your performance,” Paromita stated bluntly, the words designed to shock him. 
“You rushed, didn't you? First time jitters, perhaps. But I am a married woman. I know the difference between a satisfied woman and a startled one. If you want me to accept this new reality, if you want me to enjoy this you must learn patience, and you must learn to serve.”


She pulled her hand away. Rahul reached for her instantly, trying to recapture the fleeting touch, the sudden shift in power fascinating him. “Tell me what to do, Boudi,” he pleaded, his voice thick with desire and the new, thrilling element of submission. 


Paromita smiled, a slow, dangerous curve of her lips that had never graced her face as Sahil’s wife. This was the smile of Mohini. “You want me to be your Mohini?” she asked, her voice dropping to a seductive purr. “The enchanting woman who fulfills your fantasies? Then I will teach you the meaning of the word ‘massage,’ Rahul. Not the cheap thrill that ends in a quick release. But the kind that leaves you breathless, obedient, and desperate for my touch. I will give you the nude massage you truly desired, from the only woman in this house who can give it to you without risk.”


Rahul stared, unable to believe his ears. He was about to receive the ultimate fantasy, offered freely by the woman who was also his sister-in-law, without any need for blindfolds or secrecy.


“A nude massage?” he breathed, utterly captivated. “Yes. But this time, no pretense of a friend,” Paromita asserted. “This time, it is Paromita who is offering. And this time, there is no ‘Happy Ending’ unless I say so. You will listen to my commands. You will be my obedient boy.”
She slid off the bed, letting her body stretch languidly, fully naked. She did not cover herself. The shyness and shame that forced her to undress with her eyes closed previously were gone. She stood, displaying the form he had worshipped with his hands, acknowledging her own "very sexy" appearance.
“You will be blindfolded again,” Paromita announced, walking slowly to her basket of massage supplies the oil, the towels, the flask of warm water she had gathered previously. “Not because I am ashamed, but because I want you to focus only on my touch, my fragrance, and my words. You will not see me. You will feel me.”
She retrieved the thick cloth from the side table the same cloth she had used to ensure he couldn't see anything previously.
“Come here, Rahul. You will sit on the edge of the bed,” she commanded.
Rahul, mesmerized by her nudity and her sudden, commanding authority, moved instantly. He sat, obediently, his "anaconda" still prominently displayed.
Paromita knelt before him. She looked at his arousal, the very sight that had given her a heart attack just hours ago. Now, she felt a surge of predatory power.


“Look at you,” she purred, reaching out to cup his genitals in her hand a gesture that had previously been a terrifying, last-resort promise. Now, it was a statement of power. “Still eager, aren’t we? Like a little puppy wagging its tail. If you rush again, if you try to take control again, I will stop the session immediately. Do you understand your new mistress, Rahul?”
“Yes, Mohini… Paromita… yes, I understand,” he stammered, his body rigid with excitement.
She tied the blindfold securely, then tested it. “How many fingers?” she asked, echoing their previous check.
“I see nothing but blackness, Boudi,” he confessed.
“Good. Now, lie down on the bed, on your back, just as you were on the bench, spread out for me.”
He followed her instructions, his arms and legs spread, exposing himself entirely. The fear of violating him was gone; Paromita was now actively participating, and the ethical barrier had collapsed.


Paromita lit a small, fragrant oil lamp she had brought from her room an item not mentioned in the previous list, symbolizing a new ritual. She began to speak, her voice a low, instructional melody, laced with double entendre.
“Last time, I rushed through your massage, didn't I? I was afraid of what you would do. I was afraid of what I might do. But tonight, there is only confidence. Tonight, Paromita is here, and Paromita knows exactly what she wants from her dewar.”
She started with the oil, warming it in her hands. She began at his shoulders, kneading the strong muscles Rahul had developed in his youthful vigor.
“You have strong arms, Rahul,” she murmured, her thumbs pressing deep into the knots near his neck. “But strength alone is not enough. You must use that strength to serve me, to carry my burden. Do you understand, boy? Or should I just give you another happy ending right now and send you away?”
“No! Please, Boudi, don’t stop,” Rahul gasped, his breath catching with every stroke. “I’ll be your servant. Tell me what burden to carry.”
She chuckled, a deep, satisfied sound. “The weight of my absence, Rahul. The loneliness Sahil left behind. You filled the void, didn't you? First, as my brother, then as my tormentor, and now… as my pleasure. Feel my hands, Rahul. These hands tied your Rakhi. Now they will teach you things your friend’s mother never taught him.”
She moved her hands over his chest, tracing the outline of his nipples. She paused, applying pressure deliberately.
“Tell me, what did you love most about touching Mohini?” Paromita prompted.
Rahul, totally consumed by the darkness and her sensual touch, replied instantly, "Your breasts, Boudi. They were so soft, so heavy. I wanted to see them, touch them naked.”
Paromita leaned down, her loose hair cascading forward, brushing his chest, eliciting the intense tickle and sexual arousal he remembered. Her naked breasts hovered just inches above his skin.
“You wanted to see them, you greedy little brother,” she whispered, her voice teasing. “But you cannot. You must earn the privilege of naked sight. But you can feel them. Feel the weight of the Mohini you desired.”
She slowly lowered herself, her breasts pressing against his chest. Her hardened nipples grazed his skin. Rahul moaned, stretching his arms out in ecstasy.
“This is extras, Rahul,” Paromita explained, her voice right next to his ear, making him shiver. “Not a clumsy grab, but a gift. I give you my body, but only if you remain where you are. Stay obedient, and you will be rewarded.”
She moved the oil lower, coating his abdomen. She worked around his navel, deliberately lingering on the spot where he had kissed and licked her stomach the night before.
“Did you like exploring my navel, Rahul?” she asked, her finger dipping gently into the hollow.
“I loved tasting you, Boudi. I loved being close to you.”
“Good. Then you can do it again, but only when I permit. Now, I own this space.” Her hand slid further down, reaching his thighs.
“When you touched my thighs the other night, you were hoping to get closer to the softness you craved. I was terrified. Now I ask you: Do you still think I am made of frozen Arctic ice, Rahul?” she challenged, using his own perceived metaphor.
“No, Boudi. You are fire. You are burning me,” he cried out.
Paromita spread his legs wider, running her oiled palms up the inside of his thighs, dangerously close to his erection. She was working him into a fever pitch of anticipation, all while maintaining absolute vocal control.
“Fire is dangerous, Rahul. It consumes the careless. I am going to teach you how to handle fire. You wanted a nude massage, and here it is. Every stroke is designed to make you desperate for the ultimate release, but you must wait.”
She moved around the bed, focusing intensely on his legs and feet, giving him the deep, non-erotic massage she had previously attempted to use as distraction. The contrast between her proximity and her disciplined movements was maddening for him.
“Last time, you were too eager to touch my waist, my buttocks. You used the blindfold as an excuse for your hands to wander. Tonight, your hands will remain flat on the bed, or I stop. You will only use your voice to ask for permission. Do you swear, my servant?”
“I swear, Paromita. I’ll obey,” Rahul whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of submission and mounting lust.


Paromita finished the massage of his legs and returned to his torso, using the warm water to wipe away the excess oil. She knelt between his legs, her naked body close enough to make him gasp for breath.
“You made me take off my bra. You made me lose my panty. You tore down all the barriers I had desperately erected. Now, you will lie there and feel the truth of what you demanded.”
She began to address his magnificent erection, the "instrument" that had overwhelmed her. But this time, she did not rush. She used both hands, slow and deliberate, coating him thoroughly in oil.
“You wanted to know the difference between a massage girl and your sister-in-law, Rahul?” Paromita whispered, her lips inches from his skin. “A massage girl wants your money. I want your soul. I want you to worship the sacrifice I made for you.”
She began to pump him slowly, rhythmically, making him moan her name.
“Scream for me, Rahul. Tell me how much you want the one who saved you from ruin. Tell me who you belong to.”
“Yours! I’m yours, Paromita! My Boudi! My Mohini!” he choked out, grasping for the familiar names.
Paromita increased the pace, her eyes blazing with a fierce, controlled passion. This was not the frightened woman trying to end the ordeal quickly; this was the woman who had shed her fear and claimed her role as the dominant partner.
“You rushed into me last night, Rahul. You entered me without asking. You must learn that my body is a temple, and entry is only granted through submission.”
She continued the masturbation, forcing him to the brink, then pulling back, tormenting him with her absolute control over his pleasure.
“I felt your hands on my breasts through my bra. You squeezed them without permission. Now, I command you. Use your hands, Rahul. Reach out and touch Mohini's breasts. If you touch them roughly, I stop this instant. If you touch them lovingly, like a supplicant approaching a goddess, then your reward will be closer.”
Rahul, trembling under the blindfold, tentatively reached out. Guided by her voice, his hands found her breasts, now bare and slick with oil from the massage. He cupped them gently, reverently, his earlier roughness replaced by cautious awe.
“Yes, my beautiful boy. Worship me,” Paromita commanded. “I am the woman who accepted your desire, who risked everything for your future. Do you feel how soft I am? You wanted to measure me like a scale. Measure me now with your worship, not with your force.”
As he fondled her breasts gently, she shifted her position, pressing her mouth to his. This time, the kiss was not a sudden, aggressive move, but a slow, deep exchange of breath—a deliberate merging of their forbidden reality.
“I am yours, Paromita,” he mumbled against her lips.
Paromita pulled back, satisfied with his total surrender. She now knew she held the reins of this dangerous, incestuous intimacy. The power dynamic had shifted completely: she was no longer the reluctant victim of his lust, but the confident conductor of their shared, forbidden symphony. She had become what she feared, but on her own terms.
“Good,” she whispered, pulling his hand away from her breast and guiding it back to his side. “Now, lie still, and accept your pleasure.”
With a final, intense surge of rhythmic pumping, Paromita brought Rahul to his climax, his fluid ejaculating onto the towel she had strategically placed earlier.
Rahul cried out, his body arching, his release total and overwhelming.
Paromita remained kneeling, watching him subside. She wiped him clean with a prepared towel, a gesture that was now possessive rather than purely hygienic.
“The lesson is over, Rahul,” she said, her voice dropping back to a severe, yet intimate tone. “You will go to your studies tomorrow. You will excel. Because now, you know what you are working for. You are working to please me. The next session will happen only when your grades improve, and only when I call you, and only when I choose the terms.”
She removed the blindfold. Rahul’s eyes, dazed and ecstatic, met hers. He was looking not at the fearful boudi, but at the commanding, naked woman who had just delivered him into pure bliss.
“Yes, Paromita,” he agreed instantly, his obedience absolute. “Whatever you command.”
Paromita smiled, knowing the war was truly over, and she, the reluctant warrior, had won the final battle for control. She had saved herself, not by refusing the devil, but by becoming the devil's mistress.

[cutekomal]

The next morning, the sun did not dare peek through the curtains with any sense of innocence. It felt, instead, like a spotlight on their new, dark stage. Paromita woke first. Her body was still heavy with the memory of the night’s surrender, but her mind was sharp, galvanized by the power she had grasped.
She found Rahul in the kitchen, attempting to brew tea a ritual he had tentatively adopted from Sahil. He wore only a pair of loose boxers, a deliberate defiance of the boundaries that had once existed.
“Good morning, my Rahul,” she purred, leaning against the doorway. She used the possessive pronoun with a weight that felt like a heavy silk chain wrapping around his throat.
Rahul turned, his eyes still heavy with sleep and the residue of passion. His gaze settled on her, eager and slightly worshipful. “Boudi… Mohini. Good morning.”
He used both names the formal familial title and the whispered moniker of sin, a sure sign that he understood the game they were now playing: he recognized Paromita, but he worshiped Mohini.
Paromita approached the counter, not to help, but to assert. She took the mug from his hands and placed it down with a slight clatter.
“No, no, no,” she chastised, her voice soft but authoritative, sliding her hands around his bare waist. “We are not rushing this morning. Your brother may be concerned with timeliness and efficiency in Dubai, but here, we operate on a different tempo. My tempo.”
Rahul inhaled sharply, immediately stiffening under her hands. The shift from post-coital complacency to intense, immediate arousal was exhilarating to Paromita. His body reacted to her touch like a well-trained dog to its master’s whistle.
“I was just trying to be helpful, Boudi,” he mumbled, trying to cling to the fragments of their old roles.
Paromita laughed, a sound rich with uninhibited sensuality. “Helpful? You want to help me, Rahul? Then you must understand that my needs are not met by lukewarm tea. My needs are met by complete, total devotion. Your academic performance, your college attendance that is the duty you perform for the world. But this duty,” she trailed off, running her index finger down the centerline of his chest to his navel, “this duty is for me alone.”
She lifted his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. “You are stubborn, remember? You chased me for weeks, breaking every rule, forcing my hand. You demanded my body, and you received it. Now, I demand your obedience, your stamina, and your absolute focus, not on your textbooks, but on the fulfillment of my fantasies.”
Rahul’s eyes were black now with sheer need. “Tell me your fantasy, Boudi. I will make it real.”
“My fantasy, my darling boy,” she whispered, leaning close so her words were only for him, “is to have a magnificent, powerful man who obeys my every whim, whenever and wherever the mood strikes me. You thought Mohini was only interested in giving a quick Happy Ending? Oh, Rahul. Mohini lives for the power of the beginning, the middle, and the absolute, explosive end. And right now, my fantasy is to watch you beg before breakfast.”
She knew precisely how to leverage the language of the 'massage parlor' and 'extras' that had drawn him in, twisting it into a lever of pure control.
“Beg?” Rahul’s voice was barely a croak.
Paromita smiled, a slow, predatory expression. “You saw how strong you are. How quickly your magnificent body responds. That strength is now my property. And I want to show you exactly how easy it is for me to reduce all that masculine fire to a puddle of breathless devotion.”
She suddenly backed away, turning to the stove. She retrieved a ladle, stirring the lentil soup she had prepared the night before.
“Go to the living room, Rahul. Sit on the sofa. Wait for my command. And remember your clothing mandate: nothing but the air on your skin. I want you ready for inspection when I walk in.”
Rahul hesitated for only a second, the instinct to obey overriding all shame. He shed his boxers right there on the kitchen floor, a powerful gesture of submission and walked naked toward the living room, completely aware that this total public vulnerability was exactly what she wanted.
Paromita turned back to the simmering lentils, her heart thrumming with exhilarating anticipation. The devil wishes were manifesting: absolute, uninhibited control over his time, his body, and his sexual release.


Paromita entered the living room five minutes later, clad only in a light sari no kurta which offered him tempting glimpses of her cleavage and her tender waist. She carried the tea tray, setting it deliberately on the coffee table. Rahul sat precisely where she had commanded, his erection already strained and impressive.
She sat opposite him, sipping her tea slowly, deliberately not looking at him, forcing him to endure the agonizing wait.
“The first lesson, Rahul,” she stated, her voice calm, the very picture of domestic serenity despite the nude man across from her, “is patience. You, the stubborn boy, the impatient lover, must learn that my pleasure resides in the delay of yours.”
She finally lowered her teacup and allowed her gaze to rake over his naked form. She paused, lingering on his powerful thighs and the beautiful, throbbing erection that rose proudly from the clean-shaven jungle he had prepared for his Mohini.
“You have a marvelous dick,” she observed coolly, using the term the sources established for it. “But an instrument must be played by the master. And I am the maestro here.”
She stood, retrieving the coconut oil bottle she had placed nearby a practical tool from her Agni Pariksha kit. She knelt before him, not with the terror of their first session, but with the fierce authority of ownership.
“You wanted to know the difference between a massage girl and me, Rahul?” she whispered, beginning to oil her hands. “A massage girl wants your money. I want your devotion. And I want your ejaculation to be a gift to me, not a desperate act of self-relief.”
She reached out and took hold of him. The sensation was immediate and overwhelming for Rahul, who gasped, his hands immediately lifting to grasp the sofa cushions.
“Look at this reaction,” Paromita murmured, speaking more to herself, enjoying the sheer physical power she held over him. “Such power. Such magnificent strength. And it all bends to the command of my hand.”
She began the slow, rhythmic pumping, applying the oil liberally. She matched her movements to her dialogue, demanding his total focus.
“Tell me what you feel, Rahul. Tell me how my hand compares to the cheap filth you chased in Kolkata.”
Rahul strained against her touch, his voice tight. “No comparison, Boudi. Yours… yours is better. So soft. So demanding.”
“Demanding, yes,” she affirmed, increasing the pace slightly, savoring his rising distress. “I demand that you remember every moment of this: the scent of my jasmine, the softness of my skin against yours, the truth that I decide when you are allowed to fall.”
She continued the intense hand job, forcing him to the very edge. When his breathing became shallow and sharp, indicating imminent release, she stopped instantly.
Rahul cried out in frustration. “Mohini! Why? Please!”
Paromita pulled her hand away entirely, leaving him painfully rigid and throbbing. She wiped her oiled hand delicately on a clean towel.
“Because, my love, you rush. You are too eager for the ending. And I decide the pace of this new life. I want you so swollen with need, so desperate for my touch, that when you finally release, it is a sound that echoes my triumph.”
She forced him to sit through the decline of his immense arousal, watching him suffer the physical ache of delayed gratification. She then kissed him chastely on the forehead—a perverse blend of the sisterly phota and the master's mark of approval.
“You will study now, Rahul. Use that tension in your work. I want top grades again. And when you return tonight, perhaps you will have earned another lesson in control.”
Rahul nodded wordlessly, his face a mask of residual passion and grudging obedience. Paromita watched him retreat, feeling the intoxicating rush of true dominance. She loved watching his strength bend to her feminine will.


Over the next few days, Paromita began implementing her "devil wishes" in earnest, turning their shared home into a theatrical stage for her power. She discovered that the best moments for her commands were those of routine domesticity, where the shock of interruption intensified the arousal.
One afternoon, she was fully absorbed in cooking a curry a task of mundane wifely duty when Rahul walked into the kitchen, wearing a formal college shirt but no trousers, having rushed back from class.
He leaned against the counter, trying to appear casual, yet his eyes were glued to the light sway of her hips under the cotton sari.
“The curry smells divine, Boudi,” he said.
“Only the best for my devoted boy,” Paromita responded, stirring the thick, bubbling sauce. She watched him from the corner of her eye. She saw the subtle tension in his jaw, the barely contained excitement.
She turned off the stove abruptly. The silence was deafening, broken only by the slight sound of her anklets as she moved.
“Rahul,” she said, her voice dropping to a low, suggestive register, “I feel that the air in this kitchen is too heavy. It needs to be cleared. You know what I mean, don’t you?”
Rahul immediately understood the coded language—the ‘clearing’ of the air was a euphemism for the release of his physical tension, a perversion of her original 'cleaning' justification.
“Yes, Boudi,” he breathed, stepping closer.
Paromita grabbed his shirt by the collar the pristine college shirt that symbolized his future and his duty to Sahil and pulled him roughly toward her, slamming his back against the cool refrigerator door.
“I want you ready. Now,” she commanded.
Without waiting, she unbuttoned his shirt in one swift, violent motion, pulling the fabric off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. The heat from the simmering stove mixed dangerously with the rising heat of their encounter.
“I want you against this cold steel,” she murmured, pinning his hands above his head against the fridge door with one of her hands, the weight of her breasts pressing against his chest. “I want you to feel the cold of the outside while I ignite the fire inside.”
She held him trapped, unable to move, his exposed lower body taut with anticipation. With her free hand, she reached down, found his erection, and gripped him firmly.
“Tell me, what did you see today in class?” Paromita challenged, kneading him slowly. “Did you look at any of those little college girls, Rahul? Did you dare compare them to your Boudi?”
“Never!” Rahul choked out, struggling against the restraint. “They are flat, shallow. They don't have your presence, your fire, your softness.”
“Good. Because if I ever suspect your focus is divided, this privilege ends. This hand, this softness, the exquisite ecstasy you chase it belongs only to the dutiful student who bows before his teacher.”
She increased the pace, holding his gaze fiercely. The power was intoxicating: his youthful strength was completely nullified by her feminine grip and psychological control.
“You wanted to touch your Boudi,” she reminded him, referencing their initial extras bargain. “Now you may. But you may only touch my hips. Feel the boundary, Rahul. Feel the strength beneath the sari. Feel who owns you.”
She lowered his hands and he immediately placed them on her waist, squeezing gently, grounding himself in the reality of her body while she drove him mercilessly toward climax. She could feel the tremors building in his arms. She knew the exact moment his control would shatter.
When she saw the glaze in his eyes, the absolute loss of thought, she delivered the final command: “Now, Rahul. Come for me. Right here, in the kitchen, where I prepare your meals. Ejaculate your desire, your obedience, right here, onto the floor, where I can clean it up later, my private little mess.”
The order shattered the last vestiges of his inhibition. Rahul let out a choked cry, his head slamming softly against the cold steel of the refrigerator as he flooded the tiled floor beneath him.
Paromita held him tight until the final pulse subsided. She watched the evidence of his climax spread on the floor. It was beautiful in its raw, animal submission.
“Such a good boy,” she praised, releasing his hands and stepping back. She retrieved a towel from the counter, wiping him meticulously. “Now, clean yourself up, put your shirt back on, and return to your books. And don't worry about the floor. Mohini takes care of her messes.”
She watched him gather his senses, humbled and utterly exhausted by the forced intensity of the climax. He looked at the floor, then at her, and the shame he might have felt was completely overshadowed by the sheer, magnificent relief of having obeyed her command.


The true measure of her dominance, Paromita discovered, was the integration of their forbidden acts into the private sanctuary of their bedroom, replacing the memory of Sahil with the immediate, visceral reality of Rahul.
One night, Paromita retired early, demanding that Rahul remain in his room studying until 1 AM. Precisely at 1:05 AM, she knocked on his door.
She found him already naked in bed, waiting, a towel strategically placed beneath him. He was learning.
Paromita did not speak. She merely walked to the bed and stood over him. She was clad in a provocative silk nightgown a deliberate choice, flaunting the femininity she had previously hidden behind cotton kurtas.
Rahul looked up at her, already aroused by her mere presence. “You called me, Boudi?”
“I did not call,” Paromita corrected, sitting lightly on the edge of the bed. “I commanded. When I am restless, you are restless. When I desire an offering, you provide it.”
She ran her hand down his chest and let it linger on his firm stomach. “I want you to bring me to ecstasy tonight, Rahul. Not with messy, reckless intercourse, which carries too many risks for my comfort. But with the pure, concentrated power of your climax.”
She shifted onto her knees, settling between his legs. This was Paromita’s chosen battlefield: the intimate space where she controlled the release and reveled in the resulting mess.
“I want you to lie still,” she ordered, taking his erection firmly into her hands. “You wanted to measure my softness. I want to measure your stamina. And I want to experience the sheer, explosive heat of your offering.”
She began masturbating him slowly, using a heavy, fragrant oil. She didn’t look at his face; she focused entirely on the beautiful, hard structure in her hands, watching the veins swell, feeling the power throb beneath her fingers. She enjoyed the way how he ejaculates his cum.
“Tell me about your fantasies, Rahul,” she prompted, her voice hypnotic, increasing the pace until he was panting again. “Tell me what you think of when you see this magnificent surge of youth coming from you.”
“I think of you,” Rahul managed, gripping the sheets. “I think of how you control it. How you stop, how you start. I think of how much I want to disappoint you, but I can’t. I have to please you.”
“Such beautiful, honest devotion,” Paromita sighed, her own excitement mounting as she watched his approach to the precipice. She brought her mouth close to his ear. “Tonight, I want to feel the evidence of your surrender on my skin.”
She maneuvered her hands and his erection, placing it carefully so that the impending release would land exactly where she wanted it: a stripe across her lower abdomen, just above her silken gown.
Rahul hesitated, stunned by the explicit demand. “On you, Boudi? I might stain your beautiful silk.”
“Stain me, then,” Paromita whispered, her eyes shining with her "devil wish." “Mark me with your obedience. I want the cum of my dedicated brother-in-law to be my private war paint. It is my trophy for winning this soul.”
She brought him past the point of no return. Rahul screamed, a guttural sound of simultaneous release and surrender, his semen erupting fiercely onto her waiting skin. Paromita closed her eyes, savoring the immediate, hot sensation, the sticky proof of his complete, physical submission.
When it was over, she did not rush to clean. She let the heat dissipate slowly, feeling the damp evidence of his climax dry against her skin.
She opened her eyes and looked at Rahul. He was trembling, drained, but his gaze was filled with a profound, awed satisfaction. He had been used, commanded, and finally, celebrated in his obedience.
“You came beautifully, Rahul,” she praised, her voice deep with genuine pleasure. “It was magnificent. Now, clean up this mess. All of it. And then, you may kiss the stain you left on my body.”
Rahul, utterly compliant, used the towel to wipe the fluid from her abdomen, his hands moving with the delicacy of a worshipper cleaning an altar. When he finished, he pressed his lips to the very spot where his release had landed, an unspoken vow of loyalty.
Paromita ran her fingers through his hair, claiming him fully. She loved the way she massages his dick whenever she wants, how she wants and wherever she wants. It was the purest form of power she had ever known.



One Saturday morning, long before the sun had fully risen, Paromita felt a hunger stir within her not for food, but for the thrill of control.
She slipped out of her room, her anklets silent on the carpet, and entered Rahul’s room. She saw him sleeping deeply, his body relaxed, his breath even.
She moved swiftly, pulling the sheet completely off his body. He woke instantly, startled and instinctively reaching for cover.
“No, no, no,” Paromita whispered fiercely, stopping his hand. “You do not cover yourself in my presence. I am here to inspect my property.”
She stood over him, naked save for the shimmering anklets that announced her status as Mohini. Faint dawn light filtering through the window highlighted the contours of her body, the very sight that had once caused him a near heart attack.
“Look at me, Rahul,” she commanded. “See what you have chosen to worship. And let your body rise to the occasion of my presence.”
Rahul’s eyes widened, adjusting to the sudden, overwhelming sight of her. His erection, initially soft from sleep, began to stir, rising slowly in response to her naked command.
Paromita knelt down on the bed beside him, placing her hand directly on his erection, already taut and firm.
“This is how we start our mornings now, my dear,” she said, her voice intimate and low. “With an immediate acknowledgment of where your priorities lie. Before tea, before studies, before the sun is even fully awake.”
She began to pump him quickly, expertly, demanding immediate performance.
“I want to hear you admit, right now, that I am the best thing that has ever happened to you, even better than that miserable, risky parlor you craved.”
“You are better! You are heaven, Boudi,” Rahul pleaded, his voice cracking with the sudden, fierce arousal.
“Heaven, yes. But I also expect performance. I want to start my day with the sound of your utter, shattering collapse. I want your cum to stain the sheets of this house, filling the void my husband left with the sound and fury of your youthful vigor.”
Paromita intensified the masturbation, forcing him to climax quickly, ruthlessly, overwhelming him with sensation so early in the day that his mind had no chance to resist or conceptualize the shame.
Rahul screamed, releasing himself with an urgency that shook his entire body. The violent, beautiful outpouring was Paromita’s ultimate victory. She held him until the shaking stopped, then leaned down and pressed a long, deep kiss onto his lips a true, passionate kiss of ownership and shared, powerful lust.
“That,” Paromita whispered against his mouth, tasting the lingering intensity of his climax, “is how Mohini greets the day. Now, you may rest for five minutes. Then, you will bathe, and you will achieve excellence in your studies. Because the price of this pleasure, Rahul, is your absolute obedience in all things.”
Paromita stood up, leaving him stunned, exhausted, and yet gloriously satisfied on the damp sheets. She walked back to her room, her naked body shimmering in the dawn light. She felt powerful, centered, and utterly clean. The sacrifice she had attempted to make had mutated into her ultimate liberation. She was no longer Sahil’s timid wife or Rahul’s protective boudi. She was Mohini, the commanding mistress of her own house and her own uninhibited desire. The devil wishes had become her glorious, intoxicating reality.

[Rocky@handsome]

Your latest update beautifully brings the passion and emotions to life with vivid narration and deep sensuality. The way you describe every detail so artfully makes the story truly captivating and immersive. Keep up the amazing work—your talent shines brilliantly! ❤️

Also, if you use Hindi words for male and female private parts, it will make the work even more erotic and expressive; this is a humble request, I do not want to limit your creativity, and I am eagerly waiting for your next update.


Regards
Rocky ❤️

[cutekomal]

The air in the room was thick, not just with the scent of jasmine Paromita used as her sensual war-paint, but with the heavy knowledge of forbidden intimacy that now ruled the household. Paromita, the formidable Mohini, stood at the precipice of her new domain. She was the commanding mistress, and Rahul, her beautiful, powerful dewar, was her property.

The routine of the hand-job, though a masterful assertion of her control, was becoming merely a mechanism of release. Rahul’s youthful vigor was potent, but fleeting. He lasted only a few minutes before shattering under her touch. This lack of endurance was an affront to her power; she needed a disciplined servant, not an impatient boy prone to rushing.

“No,” Paromita whispered to her reflection, tracing the full curve of her lips. “The hand manages the rhythm, but the mouth commands the soul. I need to train his magnificent instrument to serve, to endure, to suffer under my total control. His release must become a profound, enduring tribute, not a quick, desperate act of self-relief.”

Her objective was precise; push his endurance to at least 15 minutes, laying the foundation for true, lasting stamina. The next session, she decided, would be 30 minutes of exquisite, torturous discipline, using the wet heat of her mouth and the cold steel of her command.

She found Rahul in their usual midnight chamber, lying obediently on the bed, already naked and prepared, a towel strategically placed. His erection, his dick, was already raised, eager and ready for her touch.

Paromita approached him slowly, her silk nightgown rustling softly a garment she now wore with predatory confidence.

“You look eager, Rahul,” Paromita purred, her voice dripping with possessive authority. She did not kneel immediately, choosing instead to sit on the edge of the bed, running her hand down his chest and lingering on his thigh.

“I am always eager for your command, Boudi. I live only for your pleasure,” Rahul responded instantly, his voice thick with devotion and mounting lust.

Paromita smiled, a slow, dangerous curve of her lips. “Your desire is excellent, Rahul, but your discipline is still lacking. You rush to the finish line, eager for escape. You forget that true devotion lies in the journey, in the delicious, prolonged pain of anticipation.”

She moved her hand to cup his throbbing hardness, weighing the power in her palm. “You claimed my body through force and persistence, and I allowed it. But now, I own this strength. And I demand that this beautiful instrument learn to last. Your performance is still only minutes long. That is unacceptable. I want stamina. I want endurance. I want you to feel the agonizing truth of my control over every nerve ending in your body.”

Rahul’s breath hitched, confusion warring with immediate arousal. “Stamina, Boudi? What must I do?”

“You are my student, Rahul. And today, we move beyond the simple textbook of the hand. We advance to the graduate course of the mouth the deepest intimacy, the highest discipline. This is not just pleasure; this is a lesson that will rewrite the capabilities of your manhood.”

Paromita moved to the foot of the bed, kneeling before him. She looked up at his magnificent arousal, her eyes blazing with fierce intent. She took a moment, letting him absorb the imminent truth of her choice.

“You wanted the fantasy of the ‘blow job’ ? You wanted Mohini to grant you that intimate service? She grants it, but only as a tool of instruction.”

She reached out, gently rubbing a generous amount of fragrant oil onto the base of his shaft, forcing him to endure the light, tormenting touch before the main event.

“The hands are useful, but the tongue, Rahul, is ruthless. It dictates sensation, depth, and obedience. You will feel my mouth, the velvet heat, the firm suction. And when you scream my name, when your body coils and begs for release, I will pull back. And you will wait. You will last 30 minutes today, even if it feels like your very soul is being torn from your body. Do you understand your agonizing duty?”

Rahul nodded, trembling. “Yes, Boudi. Your will is my stamina.”

Paromita lowered her head. The first touch was electric the sudden, wet heat enveloping him, combined with the firm pressure of her lips and the delicate circling of her tongue. Rahul gasped, arching his back, clutching the sheets.

The first five minutes were a dizzying ascent. Paromita used deep, aggressive suction, mimicking the intensity she knew would drive him quickly to the brink. She felt the immediate, hard throbbing in her mouth, the frantic escalation of his breath.

At the four-minute mark, when his entire body was rigid and starting to spasm with the precursors of release, Paromita pulled back sharply, moving her mouth away entirely.

Rahul cried out, a strangled sound of frustration and physical agony. He was left naked and exposed, his erection straining against the empty air, feeling the painful, hot ache of withdrawal.

“Why, Boudi? I was so close!” he choked out, his voice raw.

Paromita gazed at him, wiping her lips delicately with her hand. She was the picture of unruffled control. “You were rushing, my impatient boy. You reached for the edge too soon. The lesson must continue. Four minutes is the time of a quick, cheap thrill. I demand fifteen minutes of exquisite, sustained agony.”

She leaned in again, teasing him with her hot breath against his tip, running her tongue lightly across the sensitive surface, then retreating entirely.

“Now, relax, Rahul. Breathe deep. Let the blood flow back. Use the discipline you learned in your studies. Focus that energy, that desperate need, and harness it. This delicious pain is proof of your obedience.”

The next five minutes were pure torture. Paromita returned, but she focused only on shallow, teasing strokes, alternating between a light, scbanging motion with her teeth (gently, just enough to shock) and deep, sustained suction that lasted mere seconds. She repeated the cycle of bringing him to the edge the point of no return and then yanking him back ruthlessly.

At the 10-minute mark, Rahul was sweating profusely, his hands gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles were white. He was silently fighting the physical urge to move, to beg, or to simply give up.

Paromita felt the desperate throbbing intensify in her mouth. She knew the agony she was inflicting, and it thrilled her this was the power she craved.

“Tell me about the pain, Rahul,” Paromita commanded, pulling back slightly, her breath hot and wet against him. “Describe the tension building in your core. Tell me how much you yearn for the relief that only my mouth can grant.”

“It… it burns, Boudi. It’s a magnificent, beautiful burning. I can’t hold on. My legs… they are shaking. Please, Mohini. Let me fall! I swear I’ll study every hour you command!” he pleaded, using the language of their power exchange.

Paromita narrowed her eyes. “Swearing is easy. Enduring is true obedience. You said you would be my servant. A servant does not dictate the terms of his release. Fifteen minutes is the minimum standard, Rahul. I will not accept a rushed sacrifice. You will hold that tension for me.”

She plunged back down, taking him deep in her mouth, pushing him immediately over the breaking point again. She vigorously started to make her mouth go up and down on his dick. She could feel his veins on his dick making contact with her mouth. The tip of the dick touching her lips in one motion and then the length of the meat engulfing her tongue and inner walls of her mouth the next moment. The sheer intensity of the sensation in her mouth was designed to overwhelm his mind, leaving only raw, visceral need. It felt as if her mouth was just right for Rahul's thick and young dick. She enjoyed her up and down job on his meat making quick glances to his face. His eyes closed and moans escaped his mouth. What a sight!!! A boudi sucking the dick of her dewar is not only an incest relationship but also breaking the social taboos of the society. Paromita cared a damn about the society and their views, at this moment she was busy engulfing a young thick dick and it didn't matter to her if it was her husband's brother. A husband who had left his beautiful wife back at home with his own brother and gone abroad just to earn money.

At 15 minutes, Paromita was relentless. She maintained the intense, agonizing suction until his lower back muscles coiled, ready to launch. She felt the slight pulse, the final warning sign and stopped, pulling away, letting him writhe in the empty air.

Rahul groaned, a long, mournful sound of exhaustion and unbearable tension. He couldn't speak, only pant.

Paromita waited patiently, counting slowly, giving his system just enough time to normalize. She saw the tears of sheer, physical distress well up in his eyes. She felt herself powerful in this position seeing a young boy gasp for air.

“Excellent, Rahul. Fifteen minutes of sustained discipline. You survived the peak. Now, we continue the lesson. We will double the time, teaching your body that the moment of surrender is my decision, and mine alone.”

The training resumed, but now Paromita changed her technique. She used her hands in conjunction with her mouth, holding his testicles firmly, applying pressure to sensitive nerve clusters while simultaneously using her tongue to torture the crown of his glans. Her hands were slowly and steadily pinching his cum filled balls. The cum which she has made to ejaculate all this time by her hands, now demanded a release by her mouth.

“Feel the power in my grasp, Rahul. The power of the woman who tied your Rakhi, who blesses your studies, and who controls every drop of your physical vigor. You thought you could defeat me with force? You thought you could rush me? Now you see the true nature of my dominance.”

She continued the edging for the next 15 minutes, pushing him to the brink at least six more times. Each time, Rahul’s silent suffering was profound. He stopped begging, realizing that his pleas only intensified her resolve. He focused only on enduring, on being the 'obedient student' he needed to be. He bit his lip, trying to channel the searing, delicious pain into disciplined stillness.

Finally, at the full 30-minute mark, Paromita decided the lesson was complete. Rahul’s body was shaking uncontrollably, his skin slick with sweat, his eyes glazed with the exquisite, unbearable tension she had sustained.

“Enough, my beautiful, suffering servant,” Paromita whispered, her mouth wet with the evidence of his desperation. “You have earned your release through obedience. You will now experience the explosive relief that only total submission can grant.”

She took him into her mouth one last time, deep and firm, sustaining the motion with ruthless consistency. Going up and down on his member with vigorous high intensity. Rahul cried out her name, the sound guttural and shattered, his entire body convulsing as his accumulated semen erupted fiercely, flooding her mouth and throat.

Paromita endured the powerful torrent, savoring the primal force of his release. She did not immediately break suction, holding him tightly until the final pulse subsided. This intimate consumption of his climax was the ultimate symbol of her ownership the rawest form of worship. She had a smile on her face even though she knew her own brother in law has ejaculated his cum straight in her mouth. The entire load of it. Cum was dripping from her mouth and Paromita being a loyal boudi was happily gulping all her own dewar's man seed in. She felt complete. Rahul felt complete. This was the first time in many years she has gulped an entire cum load in her mouth. There were cum stains all over her lips like bubbles. White gum like liquid spilled out of her mouth. Rahul was watching all this in awe and Paromita was looking at him maintaining a constant eye contact while the entire act was underway.

When she finally pulled back, wiping her mouth with a prepared cloth, Rahul lay limp and utterly drained on the bed, breathless, yet magnificent in his spent submission.

Paromita looked at him, her eyes shining with triumph. “Thirty minutes, Rahul. That is the price of my touch. Now, you understand the depth of devotion I require. You will sleep now. You will excel tomorrow. Because the next time I allow this release, I expect 20 minutes of sustained endurance. Do you promise me this, my Rahul?”

Rahul merely nodded, too exhausted to speak, his gaze fixed on her face the face of the woman who had just used the most intimate act to inflict the most exquisite, instructional pain, ensuring his absolute, uninhibited obedience.

[cutekomal]

     


The air that night was not thick with jasmine or  Paromita, standing utterly naked in their forbidden chamber, looked upon Rahul, sprawled in the afterglow of his excruciating climax. She saw not a boy to be taught, but the powerful man whose sheer, youthful vigor now belonged exclusively to her.

"Rahul," Paromita murmured, her voice deep, no longer the severe tone of the teacher, but the resonant purr of a woman who has found her true appetite. She knelt by the bed, running her hand along his firm stomach, enjoying the immediate flutter of his muscles beneath her touch.

Rahul, still breathless, turned his head to meet her gaze, his eyes full of awe and the dazed satisfaction of utter depletion. "my beautiful Boudi. You pushed me to the breaking point. It was agony, but it was magnificent. I lasted thirty minutes, Mohini. I love you."

Paromita smiled, a slow, intoxicating curve of her lips that signaled the final dissolution of all past boundaries. "You surely did, my boy. You endured the fire, and you gifted me your soul. But the time for sacrifice is over. Mohini has had her tribute. Now, Paromita is ready to claim her pleasure."

She leaned in, her naked body close to his. "We are not master and servant, Rahul. We are two conspirators who have broken the world to be together. You took my virginity to your desires, and I accepted you as my glorious, wicked destiny. But you have only taken. Now, you must give."

"You once said you wanted to measure my softness, didn’t you? You wanted to see, to touch, my breasts. You squeezed them through my bra, thinking you were being daring. Tonight, you will approach them as a man approaches a woman."

Rahul’s eyes, dark with immediate, consuming need, followed the proud curve of her breasts, the invaluable treasures that nourished children with milk, now dedicated entirely to him.

"Tell me how, Boudi. How do I approach you?" he whispered, reaching a tentative hand toward her chest.

Paromita caught his wrist, her touch firm. "Slowly. You must remember the sisterly devotion I once felt for you, the heart that tied your Rakhi. You defiled that heart, Rahul. Now you must heal it with reverence." She guided his hands to cup her breasts, bare and soft against his palms, urging him to be gentle, to explore the shape and weight he had previously tried to gauge clumsily.

"You wanted them, and here they are," she breathed, her voice laced with seductive power. "Feel the weight. They are soft and heavy, aren't they?"

"More than soft. They are fire and honey, Paromita," Rahul confessed, burying his face in the valley between them, inhaling the captivating natural scent that emanated from her body. He began to kiss her skin, starting at the curve of her collarbone, moving slowly, deliberately toward her nipples.

"Paromita boudi demands more than kisses, Rahul," Paromita challenged, feeling the exquisite tension building as his mouth neared her core. "She demands consumption. She demands to feel your absolute devotion here, where I once only dreamed of a gentle touch."

Rahul responded instantly. He took one hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking gently at first, then increasing the suction, pulling deeply, urgently, as if drawing life from her. Paramita clung to Rahul and further brought him close to her. She was making him Suck her milky soft boobs. Rahul was sucking one of her soft breasts, while his other hand was pressing the soft fleshy mounds. Paromita gasped, arching her back, feeling the sweet, aching pleasure shoot through her core a sensation far more potent than the straightforward routine Sahil had offered.

"Suck, my darling. Suck the very breath from me," Paromita moaned, tangling her fingers in his thick hair, holding him captive at her breast, making him worship her until her skin was damp with his saliva, her nipple painfully, gloriously engorged. Rahul closed his eyes as he was sucking her. He stopped sucking all of a sudden and took a few inches away from her breasts. He looked at her eyes and moved his gaze towards those two fleshy mounds. They looked so perfect. They appeared as if it's meant for him to suck. Paramita enquired, “what happened Rahul?” He smiled at her and cupped both her boobs in his hands and her nipples from both breast were kind of unified. Rahul now began to close on towards it. He took both her nipples in his mouth and began milking her between his lips. This act made Paromita so high that she pressed Rahul's head close to her.

After the breast worship, Rahul moved lower, kissing her stomach, circling her navel with his tongue the spot he had previously explored with reckless audacity. But now, his touch was slow, deliberate, asking for permission with every feather-light movement.

Paromita felt the shame and self-control that had once been her armor completely melt away. She had endured his saliva on her abdomen, his cum in her mouth. There was no boundary left to protect, only pleasure to claim.

"You know what you must do now" Paromita whispered, her hips twitching against the sheet. "The last time, you tried to steal a taste of the forbidden. You licked me like a desperate animal. Now, you will receive the ultimate privilege not as a thief, but as my chosen lover."

She guided his head lower, positioning him between her legs. Her vagina, the sexual opening he had brutally entered during his fevered frenzy, was now presented as a gift. She pushed away the memory of the struggle and focused solely on the intoxicating trust of this moment.

"You said you loved tasting me, Rahul. You loved being close to me." Paromita’s voice was ragged with mounting desire. "I hid this from you, fearful you would cross the line. Tonight, the line is gone. I want you to enter my sanctuary. I want you to speak to my deepest fire with your mouth."

Rahul looked up at her, his eyes blazing with a mixture of disbelief and utter adoration. "Paromita...Boudi…..i need you…..I want to fuck you !."

He lowered his head. The first touch of his hot, wet tongue against her highly sensitive flesh sent a shockwave through her entire body. She cried out, a sound that was pure, uninhibited ecstasy, completely unlike the muffled scream she emitted during the assault.

"Yes... oh, my God, yes!" she gasped, gripping the sheets, allowing him complete, consuming access.

Rahul, emboldened by her immediate, powerful reaction, began to work with the passion of a man who finally holds the key to the deepest treasure. His tongue was ruthless and demanding, circling, flicking, diving deep, mimicking the penetration he craved. Paromita felt her body trembling violently, currents running through her that she had been unaware existed.

She felt the immediate, desperate climb toward climax, a climax she had never achieved with Sahil, but one that Rahul, with his youthful dedication, was expertly coaxing from her.

"Look at me, Rahul!" she commanded, pushing his head up so she could meet his eyes, wet with her own rising juices. "You are my lover! You are the only one who can bring me this fire!"

He plunged back down, increasing the pace until Paromita shattered. She screamed his name not in pain or fear, but in the pure, unadulterated relief of an earth-shattering orgasm. Her body convulsed, her hips bucking fiercely against his face, raining down the sticky proof of her complete, consuming surrender to him.


Paromita lay spent, not from shame, but from the sheer force of the climax that had finally liberated her from the pretense of her previous life. Rahul, magnificent in his triumph, climbed onto the bed, covering her with his body, pressing his arousal against her wet, pulsing core.

"Now, Bpudi. Now that you have claimed your tribute," Rahul whispered, his voice thick with mutual passion. "Let me come home. Not as the forced hand, not as the eager student, but as the man you chose."

Paromita wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him in close, feeling the powerful, pulsing heat of his "anaconda" against her.

"Come home, my love," she commanded, kissing him deeply, passionately, the kiss now one of shared intoxication and glorious sin.

Rahul entered her pussy slowly, smoothly, completely. This was not the quick, brutal thrust of the first time. This was a slow, deliberate merging, an act of two people fully consenting to their forbidden reality. Their eyes were constantly on each other. Paromita felt the stretch, the fullness, the pure, uninhibited rightness of his body fitting into hers.

"I love you, Paromita. I love you Boudi," Rahul murmured against her ears, moving his hips slowly for the first time, a bit more powerfully the second time around. The intensity of his thrust kept on increasing with each passing thrust. Paramita who was gleefully accepting her new lover making love to her with her consent, enjoyed his new found authority. 

"I love the wicked reality you brought to me, my Rahul," Paromita confessed, her body moving in perfect synchronization with his. "You are my destiny. You are the fire I never knew I craved."

They moved together, a slow, intoxicating rhythm of passion, shedding the masks of 'boudi' and 'dewar' entirely, existing only as two naked, ravenous lovers. Paromita felt the weight of his strength, the truth that he was entirely hers not merely a servant to be controlled, but a magnificent instrument of pleasure to be cherished.

Their union was long, deep, and utterly unashamed, a celebration of the forbidden bond that had been forged in violation and purified by uninhibited, mutual desire. When Rahul finally reached his crest, a torrent of pure, powerful semen erupting deep inside her, Paromita met him there, achieving a second, shattering climax, mingling their fluids in a complete, absolute communion.

They lay tangled in the aftermath, two equal souls now bound by a secret that consumed their world. The stage was set: Paromita had fully accepted her role, not as Sahil’s wife, but as Rahul’s lover, the sovereign Mohini of the Chatterjee household.

[cutekomal]

Guys, if you gave read till now, please send me a recommendation and donot forget to like the story.

[cutekomal]

The quiet, velvet aftermath of their "Full Circle" union was rich with the scent of their mingled sweat and the powerful knowledge of their shared, unburdened sin. Rahul lay above her, his powerful body slack and beautiful in the absolute exhaustion of his second, profound release, which had mingled its fluid deep within her core. She felt his cum deep in her womb. Paromits was feeling like she had committed a sin. Infact 2 sins. One, having sex with her own brother in law. Not once but twice. And second, allowing him to fuck her raw and deposit his man seeds on her pussy. A taboo which the society is yet to accept. In the eyes of society this is a crime and a sin.

Paromita was the first to stir, her body still humming with the aftershocks of the climax that had finally set her free. She shifted, moving her head from his chest, and ran a possessive, intimate hand along the flat, firm length of his stomach, feeling the slight flutter of his muscles beneath her palm.

"Rahul," Paromita murmured, her voice deep and utterly frank, the sound of a woman entirely at ease with her profound guilt. "This intense fuck... it was everything I never knew I was missing. I feel complete, absolute. We are so perfectly made for each other, you and I."

Rahul opened his eyes, which were still dark and dazed from the intensity of their joining. He smiled, a soft, devoted expression. "I feel like heaven, Paromita Boudi. Feeling your body accept me, finally, without reservation... I felt like I was making love to my beloved."

Paromita leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder, a tender, unashamed gesture of their new intimacy. "You cummed in my pussy Rahul, and you filled me entirely. I can feel a part of you in my body. But I confess, my body is still singing with an unspent power."

Rahul reached up, cupping the side of her face with a hand that was now entirely confident in its claim over her. "What do you desire now, Boudi? I am already feeling hard again for you."

Paromita chuckled, a low, sensual sound. She wanted to enjoy a different type of sex. She shifted, straddling his hips, reveling in the immediate, fresh tension she felt rising from his "anaconda" beneath her. "I know you are ready to fuck me again. Your magnificent body responds to me with such intoxicating honesty. But this time, I want to take the full measure of that connection. I felt the powerful thrusts of your strength inside me, but now, I want to take control the sensation entirely."

She looked down at him, her eyes blazing with the raw need to assert her physical dominance, not through harsh instruction, but through sheer, womanly control. "I want to ride that dick, Rahul. I want to feel the weight and the rhythm of my own hips dictating the depth of our pleasure. I want to look down and see the uninhibited truth of your adoration in your face as I take you to the brink."

"Then climb on me , Boudi," Rahul whispered, his voice thick with immediate devotion. "Take your throne. I am yours to use."

Paromita lowered her body slowly, deliberately positioning herself over his magnificent erection. She braced her hands on his chest, taking her time, allowing the heat and slickness of her core to mingle with the tip of his length. She wanted this ascent to be an act of lust, controlled entirely by her.

Rahul gasped as the initial pressure began. Paromita focused, guiding him, feeling the stretch and the profound, intoxicating fullness as his entire length sank deep inside her pussy. This was the same pussy in which an hour ago, Rahul had pumped his man seeds into. It was a merging that was slow, smooth, and utterly complete, a pure, uninhibited act of their chosen reality.

"Oh, Boudi," Rahul breathed, his voice catching in his throat, his hands reaching instinctively to grip her hips, anchoring her firmly to his core. 

Paromita leaned forward, capturing his mouth in a searing, demanding kiss the kiss of a lover who was finally exercising absolute physical authority over her partner.

"Yes," she breathed against his lips, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. "I control the thrusts now, my darling. I control the fire."

She began to move, starting with a slow, powerful grind, sinking deep, utilizing the fullness of their connection to create maximum internal friction. She found the perfect angle and began to ride him with a powerful, rocking rhythm, dictating the pace and the intensity. Her body, sleek and strong, glistened in the soft, ambient light of the room, her breasts, the treasures he had worshipped, swaying with the fierce motion of her hips.

"Look at me, Rahul," Paromita demanded, plunging down onto his core with uninhibited ferocity. "This is my lust for you. This is my pleasure. You will feel every single movement as I push myself closer to the breaking point."

Rahul’s hands tightened on her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, providing the strong, unwavering anchor she needed. He couldn't move or control the tempo, but he was powerful in his passive support, completely dedicated to her ascending pleasure.

"Yes! Faster, Paromita! You are so fucking sexy! I feel the heat of your body, the incredible grip around me! Don't stop!" Rahul commanded, his voice raw with need, completely abandoning the formal tone as the sensation intensified.

Paromita increased the pace, driving them both into a frenzy of mutual sin. Her breasts heaved up and down which Rahul watched in an amazing awe. She bounced and bucked, relishing the sensation of his rigid strength beneath her, the perfect support for her uninhibited demands. She felt the internal pressure building with dizzying speed, a force far more intense than any she had experienced when he was in control. She realized that by directing the action, she maximized her own pleasure.

She leaned forward, her wet, slick core rubbing mercilessly against the base of his "anaconda," pushing him further into the exquisite agony of delayed fulfillment, even as she drove herself toward her own release.

"I need you to feel the truth about me, Rahul!" Paromita cried out, her voice ragged with building ecstasy. "I need to shatter, and I need to do it right here, on top of you, claiming every gasp, every sound!"

Her body began to tremble violently. With a final, desperate roar, Paromita collapsed, her core contracting fiercely around his magnificent length. The explosion was total, overwhelming her entire being, tearing a scream of pure, unadulterated relief from her throat.

Rahul, utterly consumed by the fierce, final contractions of her climax, allowed his own control to shatter, his strength erupting in a powerful, torrent surge deep inside her body.

Paromita collapsed onto him, their bodies slick and intertwined, bound together by the physical proof of their shared, unashamed lust. She had taken him, ridden him, and claimed her absolute, intoxicating pleasure on her own terms. They were two equal souls now, utterly spent and gloriously content in their wicked reality.

Rahul was unmoved and let his boudi catch her breath after the earth shattering orgasm. His dick still inside her pussy, while his cum flowing from the sides on her pussy wall. Paromita slightly moved her head and her lips straightway met Rahul's. They kissed and exchanged their saliva for the next couple of minutes until his dick popped out of her pussy. 

That action awakened something in Paromita. She asked, “You cummed twice inside me. Next time onwards, you need to buy condoms or else this can make me pregnant.” Rahul smiled at her. She hit him in the ass in a friendly way. He asked immediately, “ I wish to make you pregnant, Boudi”. This made her blush and she let out a laugh. Paromita asked him to run to a chemist shop further away from their home and buy her a medicine which will wash away the combined sin these two souls have committed.

She started to feel a little different atmosphere with Rahul. It seems, she has started to love the new found lust for her brother in law.

[raju98]

Very nice story bro, if possible write how Rahul got intenstion to fuck her boudi....

[Rocky@handsome]

Amazing bro! I loved every moment of the story — how "Dewar" initially manipulated "Boudi," then suddenly the dynamics shifted, with boudi taking full control, and in the end, both became lovers and partners in crime.

The whole experience was truly mind-blowing; words aren’t enough to praise your skilled writing.

Still, in future updates, I hope boudi speaks some "Bold and Dirty" words in the heat of intimate moments.
Hearing "Raw" and "Vulgar" language from "Boudi" would definitely take the Eroticism to the next level.

Can’t wait for the next update… it’s really awesome, bro! ❤️

Regards
Rocky ❤️

[RajV]

You are writing a new erotica...a fresh new approach.
Slowly and step bye step make Boudi the mistress, the sex guru, commanding total love and devotion.
And add kinks & perversions as they go along.
Let Rahul become a devoted cuck slave in the parlour !!

[Eswar P]

Verynice

[StoryReader1]

Pl cont

[cutekomal]

The writer demands not only encouragement, but also some reputation points.

[cutekomal]

The air in the room was thick, not merely with the scent of jasmine Paromita sometimes wore as Mohini's fragrant weapon,, but with the heavy, musky residue of their absolute, devastating union,. Paromita lay upon the bed, fully naked, her skin still slick from the dual, shattering climaxes she had achieved on her lover. The sheets beneath her were tangled, damp with the evidence of their sin,. She could feel the lingering warmth of Rahul’s body where he had rested, and deep within her core, she felt the unmistakable, sticky deposit of his youthful semen 

She felt the profound weight of her actions, the gravity of the incestuous path they had cleaved through the foundations of her aristocratic family life. The societal taboo was a loud, condemning voice in her mind. She had committed two unforgivable sins: having sex with her own brother-in-law, not once but twice, and allowing him to fuck her raw and deposit his seed inside her, raw and unrestrained.

Yet, the condemnation was weak, muted by the magnificent, resonant chorus of her own body. That body, which had been constrained by Sahil’s straightforward, routine understanding of sex, was now singing with a wild, uninhibited melody of liberation. The emptiness, the "loneliness Sahil left behind", was utterly and violently filled.

"Incest," she whispered to the empty air, testing the harshness of the word. But her soul countered, "Destiny",. Rahul was not the hesitant boy she had tried to save; he was the magnificent instrument, who had delivered her from a life of quiet deprivation. He had awakened the fire she never knew she craved. She had entered this path attempting an 'Agni Pariksha' to save him,, but she had failed that moral test only to emerge as the sovereign Mohini, the commanding mistress of her own house and her own uninhibited desire,,.

She smiled, a slow, sensual expression that had utterly replaced the fearful tremor of earlier that day. She loved the new found lust for her brother-in-law. Her soul had accepted him as her lover, her soulmate, the one conspirator bound to her by their wicked, glorious secret,.

She closed her eyes, remembering the feel of his strength beneath her as she had ridden him, taking her pleasure with absolute physical control. She wanted to explore more, to push the boundaries further than mere hand jobs and basic intercourse. She needed to teach him endurance,, to teach him the myriad ways a magnificent man could worship his goddess. She had fantasies that now needed manifestation, a demand she had explicitly laid upon him when she claimed his obedience.

She wanted him to serve her not just in moments of release, but throughout the fabric of their day; she wanted to feel his desire, raw and ready, under her command at any moment. Rahul, with his youthful vigor and newfound, utter obedience,, was the perfect, powerful canvas for her deepest, most wicked wishes.

A faint sound from the hallway signaled his return. He had been quick, fueled by fear of consequence and the intoxicating promise of more pleasure. She remained still, letting the sight of her naked form be the first thing he absorbed upon entering, a silent assertion of the power she now wielded.

Rahul entered the room, his chest heaving slightly, carrying a small, discrete bag. He wore the anxiety of the sudden, public errand, but beneath it, the dazed satisfaction of their recent intimacy was visible. He immediately shed his clothes, dropping them carelessly, moving instinctively toward the bed.

"Boudi," he whispered, his voice thick with devotion, kneeling beside the bed. "I got them. Everything you asked for." He pulled out a small packet of condoms and the square foil of the emergency contraceptive.

Paromita reached out, her hand tracing the smooth, clean-shaven contour of his thigh. "I love you, Rahul," she purred, her finger slipping close to the rising evidence of his immediate arousal. "You rush back to me so quickly. Do you always obey your new love so completely?"

Rahul trembled under her touch, his gaze fixed on her face, which was illuminated by the soft, ambient lamp. "You are not just my love Boudi. You are my beautiful destiny. I rushed because I could not bear the thought of losing you, of that consequence robbing me of our shared future. I cannot go back to that cheap parlor. I only live for your touch."

She accepted the small white pill from his hand. "This little thing," Paromita murmured, turning the tablet over in her palm, "it cleanses the accident. It ensures we do not have to confess our sin to the world. But it does not cleanse the desire, Rahul. That desire is now forever bound to us."

She swallowed the pill, allowing him to watch the intimate, simple gesture. Then, she picked up the condom packet, turning the cool, clinical plastic over in her hand.

"And this," she continued, her voice dropping to a low, suggestive register, "this is not for protection, Rahul. This is for preparation. I let you come inside me twice because you were drunk on your first victory. But now, the game changes. You have a magnificent instrument, but it is undisciplined. I have only just begun to teach you true stamina. I want to feel you deep inside me again, my lover, but only when I know you can endure my full pleasure, without risking consequences."

She looked at him, her eyes blazing with fierce intent. "I have made a decision, Rahul. My husband left a void, and you have filled it with fire. I am no longer Sahil’s timid wife. I am the woman who loves sex, who craves the uninhibited freedom you offer. I want to live out every single fantasy that polite society told me was forbidden."

Rahul’s eyes widened, consuming her every word, his breathing ragged. "Tell me your fantasies, Boudi. I will make them real. I will be your obedient boy, your servant. I will endure any lesson you set."

Paromita shifted, leaning closer until the soft curve of her breast brushed his cheek. "Good. Because the fantasies Mohini will explore are vast, my love. They are dark, they are demanding, and they require absolute, uninhibited submission from you. I want to use your vigor, your strength, your beautiful, powerful body, not just here, in the privacy of our room, but wherever the mood strikes me,."

She let her hand slide down to cup his arousal, already throbbing eagerly. "You will wear this condom only when I explicitly command it, and only when I am ready to accept your triumphant release inside me. Until then, you must be content with the ecstasy I grant you by my hand, my mouth, and my mind. You are mine now, completely and entirely. Do you accept your new, magnificent duty, my wicked destiny?"

Rahul, lost in the immediate, intoxicating promise of her words and touch, could only gasp, "I accept, Boudi. Your will is my pleasure. Your fantasy is my command."


She looked at Rahul, his eyes dark, glazed not just with physical exhaustion but with absolute, total devotion. The time for riddles, for the guilt-free guise, was over; the mask of the enchantress, Mohini, felt suddenly thin and unnecessary.

"Rahul," she continued, her voice deep, resonant, and utterly frank, the sound of a woman finally shedding the burdens of her conscience. She removed her hand from his groin, tracing the line of his taut abdomen instead. "The shield is broken. The game is done. Mohini was the key that unlocked this wicked reality, but she is merely a whisper now".

She moved closer, leaning in until the warm, captivating natural scent that emanated from her body enveloped him completely. "I will not be her again. I will be Paromita. Your Boudi. The one who tied your Rakhi, and the one who chose to accept your glorious, wicked destiny". The confession was electric, shattering the final, fragile barrier between the sacred and the profane. She looked upon him, seeing not the boy she was duty-bound to protect, but the powerful man whose life force she craved.

Rahul inhaled sharply, trembling under her naked proximity, his gaze fixated on the proud, soft slope of her breasts. He reached up, his movements no longer tentative or clumsy, but reverent, bold, and entirely possessive. He cupped her breasts in both hands, claiming the invaluable treasures that nourished children with milk, now consecrated purely for him.

"You are fire and honey, Boudi," he confessed, burying his face in the soft valley between the fleshy mounds, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her skin. "I did not want Mohini; I wanted you. I wanted to see them, touch them naked, and worship the beautiful fire I felt burning beneath your kurtas". His lips pressed urgently against her cleavage, moving with the hungry reverence of a supplicant.

He kissed her then, not with the aggressive, demanding thrust of the initial assault, but with the slow, deep certainty of a true lover. His mouth claimed hers completely, drinking in her breath, merging their secrets in a long, sensual exchange of saliva and unspoken vows. Paromita met him fully, her own internal fire ignited by the truth of his absolute claim. Her tongue danced with his, a fierce, passionate kiss of uninhibited communion, shedding the last vestiges of the timid wife she had been.

Paromita pulled back slightly, her breath ragged, looking into his eyes, which held the sheer power and devotion she had never truly received from her absent husband. Sahil, miles away in Dubai, had left behind a profound void. For him, sex had been routine; for Paromita, it had become a magnificent, resonant need. She recognized the terrifying, intoxicating truth: Rahul, with his youthful vigor and reckless adoration, was the powerful masculine instrument destined to fill that emptiness.

"You are so much stronger than I imagined, Rahul," Paromita whispered, her hand sliding down his chest, affirming her acceptance of his inherent authority. "You were not afraid to cross the line I drew; you tore down the very walls of this house to claim what you desired".

She looked at him with the fierce, complex gaze she once reserved for her husband a look blending reverence for his strength with the intimate knowledge of his absolute physical surrender to her will. "This house, Rahul... it needs a man's fire to keep the loneliness at bay. My body, my soul... they need to be claimed by a man who is present, who is here, who is powerful enough to ensure my needs are met, and my fantasies realized".

She pressed her body against his, accepting the overwhelming heat of his fresh arousal. "You claimed me by force, and I yielded. Now, I accept. Take charge of this house. Take charge of me. Let the sin be ours entirely, and let the pleasure be uninhibited, for only you have the magnificent strength to fill the destiny Sahil abandoned". Her body moved against his, subtly encouraging the inevitable penetration, inviting him to merge their wicked reality fully and completely. She was no longer resisting; she was summoning the magnificent storm.

Even though she had just consumed the unwanted 72 pill, her pussy was wet, she already had  the cum deposited by her brother in law an hour ago, and was anticipating another round of love making. Rahul drew her close to her like he would have done to his wife. But on the contrary, the wife is replaced by his own sister in law. He had also felt lucky to have found her to be his partner in crime. He climbed over his boudi, still cupping her breasts in his hands, Paromita on the other hand had held him close to her by crossing her legs over his hips. They were so aroused that a foreplay was not necessary. Not even a kiss was shared. Paramita adjusted the hard meat of Rahul towards her waiting wet pussy with her hand while he was constantly maintaining eye contact with her. They looked like 2 lovers about to become one. As Rahul was about to exert pressure on his hips to push his dick deep into his boudi's love hole, Paromita dug her nails on his back signalling the ordeal to begin. 

Each thrust of Rahul was reciprocated with a “Ahh..” grunt by Paromita. With the next thrust, a similar sound came again. This was like a symphony of grunts forming a musical composition. The same bedroom where she had first had sex with Sahil, is now the centerspot of action with Rahul. He squeezed her breasts with force feeling the softness of her milk jugs. He took two fingers and played with her nipples in a manner as if it were gbangs he wished to squeeze the juice. Paromita was taken aback by his sudden change of behaviour. She matched his rhythm with digging her nails on his back. The melody of meat making contact with meat was enough to create Beethoven's 69th symphony. Rahul abruptly stopped his thrusts and this also took Paromita by surprise. He raised himself above her and moved to the edge of the bed. “Boudi, come to the edge of the bed, I would like to raise your leg up and go for a deep penetration.”, instructed Rahul.  Paromita in her sub conscious mind, followed suit and acted as per his command. Rahul got down on the floor on his legs, dragged her waist to the edge of the bed, her ass hanging in mid air, he took her one  leg on his shoulder and penetrated her back. Paromita let out a “ Maa go…” as his dick filled the drenched pussy hole. Rahul began thrusting her with double the force and she was caught off guard. Her mouth opened and she let out, “Fuck me Rahul… Fuck me hard. Fuck me mad. Fuckkkk….meeee….long”. This was not only encouragement for Rahul, but also acted as a catalyst to rail her till there is no tomorrow. 

Paromita had not anticipated Rahul's stamina would increase to these levels with her pep talk before. She was feeling as if she was in the seventh heaven. She began uttering, “you…are fucking awesome Rahul….Keep on. Take me to heaven.” Rahul could only let a smile flaunt on his face. He responded, “Boudi…..oh Boudi…you have given me a jackpot.” She smiled in return and squeezed her breasts in ecstasy. She had not anticipated such a vigorous fuck. Her letting him take control of her has helped Rahul cross his own barriers of the illicit relationship. He was enjoying the feel of his dick penetrating his boudi's wet hole. His dick was glittering with the combined fluid of his pre cum laced with her own secretions. The room smelled heavily of sweat, body fluids and the sound of meat meeting meat. 

Both of them were so engrossed in their sexual ecstasy that none of them had a sense of time. It was close to 8 in the evening. The phone began ringing and the name of Sahil flashed on Paromita's phone. She was not in a state to take the call. However Rahul indicated by stern eyes to receive this call. “Hello !!!”Paromita said as she received the call, and at that time, Rahul exerted a slow mellow down thrust into her pussy. Unaware of his wife fucking his own brother, Sahil enquired, “ kemon aacho tumi?”. Paromita could muster up with a dry throat, “ Ami toh bhalo aachi…tumi ekhon ki korcho?”. Rahul who was pumping her with a manly force, slowed his pace to let Paromita have a normal conversation with her wedded husband. Sahil responded on the other side, “Ami bhabchilam christmas e India ashbo. Amar 2 week chutti application korechi. Approve holei, tickets book korbo. Tokhon tomake niye ashbo Dubai.” Paromita, hearing this, looked at Rahul in his eyes. He was kind of surprised and frightened at the same time. Paromita responded, “Theek aache, amar documents ki laagbe aage theke janio, ami ready kore rakhbo.” Rahul's face turned a bit sad. Paromita took his hand and placed it on her breast for him to squeeze. Sahil asked, “Tumi ki ekhon ranna korcho?” She could only lie to him, she could not inform about her present condition. But to manage the conversation and feel Rahul's hand on her breast, she replied, “Aaj sunday, tai swiggy te dinner order debo. Ranna korte icche korche na.” Sahil further probed, “ Aaj k ki special order hobe ? Chicken Arsalan biriyani?” Paromita giggled at his question but down below her waist, Rahul was pumping her in slow moves just to let her talk. “Ami tomake raat er dike phone korchi. Keu ekta esheche door e” she lied again to disconnect the call and let Rahul resume his action. Sahil with an affirmative tone agreed and she disconnected the call.

 In the same breathe, she looked Rahul with lust as if asking, “ Will you only fuck my pussy?” Rahul who was squeezing her breast with normal force now increased the grab as if he enquired, “ Boudi, will you let me fuck your ass?” This was asked at a critical juncture of their sexual copulation that she didn't know what to do. She pushed him back, climbed to the middle of the bed, got on her fours in a flash. Rahul was shell shocked. His hard on was shining with both their body fluids. He did not anticipate Paromita would be so kinky. Unsure of what to do, he climbed the bed behind her and was greeted with the smooth skin of boudi's ass offered to him. He pulled her ass cheeks and spit on her asshole like he had seen in porn. Then the wet rock hard meat made contact with her virgin ass. Paromita's milky white skin and the fat ass was a sight to behold. As the skin near her asshole was not that lubricated, it was difficult for him to find a way inside her. It was Rahul alone who was trying to find a solution to make an entry. After 4 to 5 failed attempts, this time his dick could penetrate only an inch into her ass. Paromita let out a cry of pain as the tip of the dick made its way into her. Rahul who was damn high by this moment, felt his edge nearing soon. He grunted, unable to take any further and began spilling his cum right in and over Paromita's ass. 

Paromita felt thick threads of Rahul's cum running down from her ass cheeks onto the bed. Rahul was also spent by now having fucked her pussy both on missionary and side ways and finally before he could pump her in the ass, he was spent. Taking a wet wipe he cleaned off his cum from her ass. Paromita, all sweaty and equally exhausted, turned on her back and took a few breathe to gain a normal heartbeat. She extended her hands reaching out for her partner in crime Rahul. Pulling him close to her, she planted a kiss on his cheeks and reached for his lips. They had not kissed while foreplay or during the course of the intercourse.

“Those condoms you bought, why didn't you use them?” questioned Paromita. Rahul could just laugh at this and responded, “Next time I will wear them boudi.” “You did fuck me well, I had orgasmed long ago but didn't let you know. The sheer force and power just broke all previous records”, chimed Paromita. Continuing, “Let's order some food, I am hungry and unless I eat, I won't be sane.” She took the phone in her hand and browsed for food delivery near her place. The responsibility of calling back her husband miles away didn't even strike her mind. 

[RajV]

Devar Bhabi