Incest Little sis Anjali and her friends

[prasannas2001]

Anjali when she woke up just then.

[prasannas2001]

 
Slowly, Anjali turned in his arms until they were face to face. 

Morning light caught in his eyes, and she could see every emotion playing across his features, desire, confusion, tenderness, fear.
 
"This is crazy," she whispered.
 
"Completely insane," he agreed.
 
"We shouldn't, "
 
"We definitely shouldn't."
 
Their eyes locked. The space between their faces measured in heartbeats.
 
"But I can't stop thinking about, " Anjali started.
 
Rohan kissed her, swallowing her words. 

Unlike last night's desperate, exploratory kisses, this one was slow, morning-soft, devastating in its sweetness. 

His hand came up to cup her face with such tenderness that her eyes burned with unexpected tears.
 
When they finally parted, both were breathing harder.
 
"We have today," Rohan said quietly. "Tomorrow they come back, and this... whatever this is... it has to end. But we have today."
 
The weight of that truth settled over them. One more day. One more day in their stolen bubble before reality crashed back in.
 
"What do we do?" Anjali asked.
 
A slow smile curved Rohan's lips, the first genuine smile since they'd woken. "Well, we should probably shower. We're both a mess."
 
Anjali felt heat creep up her neck as she remembered exactly why they were a mess. "Separately," she said, though it came out less firmly than intended.
 
"Separately," Rohan agreed. But he didn't move. His thumb traced her lower lip, his eyes dark with want. "Or..."
 
"Or?" The word barely made it past her lips.
 
"We could save water." The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Environmental responsibility and all that."
 
"That's a terrible excuse."
 
"I know." His forehead pressed against hers. "Tell me no, Anjali. If you want to stop this, I'll stop. We'll pretend last night never happened. We'll be normal siblings again."
 
Could they? Could she really un-know the taste of him, the feel of his hands, the sounds he made when she,
 
"I can't," she confessed. "I can't pretend it didn't happen. I can't pretend I don't want, " She broke off, the words too dangerous to speak aloud.
 
"Then come with me," Rohan said simply, standing and holding out his hand.

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Anjali looked at that offered hand, knowing that taking it meant crossing another line.
The rational part of her brain screamed warnings.
But the rest of her, the part that was still tingling from his kiss, that craved his touch, that felt safe and wanted in a way she'd never experienced, that part reached up and took his hand.
 
The bathroom felt smaller with both of them in it.
Morning light filtered through the frosted window as Rohan turned on the shower, testing the temperature. The sound of water hitting tile filled the awkward silence.
 
They stood there, naked but not touching, and Anjali felt the surreal absurdity of the moment. Yesterday morning she would have been mortified at the thought of being undressed in front of her brother. Now...
 
"This is weird, right?" she said, nervous laughter bubbling up. "This is objectively weird."
 
"Supremely weird," Rohan agreed. But his eyes were soft, not judgmental. "We can still, "
 
"No." Anjali surprised herself with the firmness in her voice. "I'm just... nervous."
 
"Me too." His honesty broke through her anxiety. "Last night was dark. This is... everything's visible."
 
"Everything," she echoed, very aware of his gaze traveling over her body. Not leering or crude, but openly appreciative in a way that made her feel beautiful rather than exposed.
 
"You're stunning," he said quietly. "I've always thought so, but seeing you like this..." His voice trailed off into reverent silence.
 
Heat that had nothing to do with the steaming shower flooded through her. "You're not so bad yourself," she managed, her own eyes tracing the lines of his body. When had her awkward brother become this?
 
Rohan stepped into the shower first, then held out his hand again, that gesture already becoming their ritual. Anjali took it and stepped under the warm spray.
 
The water cascaded over them, and somehow that made it easier. The shower created its own intimate world, washing away the last of the awkwardness. When Rohan reached for the shampoo, Anjali stopped him.

[prasannas2001]

Morning romance

[prasannas2001]

[prasannas2001]

 
"Let me," she said softly.
 
She worked the shampoo into his hair, her fingers massaging his scalp, standing on tiptoe to reach. Rohan's eyes drifted closed, his face relaxing into pure contentment.
 
The simple intimacy of the act felt almost more forbidden than what they'd done last night.
 
"That feels amazing," he murmured.
 
"Tilt back," she instructed, and he obeyed, letting the water rinse the shampoo from his hair. Rivulets ran down his face, his chest, and Anjali found herself mesmerized by the path of water over his skin.
 
When he opened his eyes, the look in them stole her breath. Not just desire, though that burned there too, but something deeper, more consuming.
 
"My turn," he said, voice low and rough.
 
His hands in her hair were achingly gentle, fingers working through the strands with careful attention.
 
But as he rinsed the shampoo away, his hands didn't stop at her hair. They traveled down, tracing the curve of her neck, her shoulders, as if memorizing every contour.
 
"Rohan..." His name came out breathless.
 
"Tell me to stop," he murmured, hands sliding down her sides. "Tell me this is too much."
 
But she couldn't. Not when every nerve in her body sang at his touch. Not when the water and his hands made her feel like she was melting.
 
His palms cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples, and Anjali gasped at the sensation.
 
They were sensitive from last night, and the dual feeling of his touch and the warm water nearly made her knees buckle.
 
"God, you're perfect," Rohan breathed.
 
He lowered his head, and then his mouth was on her breast, tongue circling her nipple before he drew it between his lips and sucked.
 
"Oh god, " Anjali's head fell back against the shower wall, her fingers tangling in his wet hair.
 
The sensation was electric, different from last night, the water making everything slicker, more intense. He lavished attention on one breast then the other, alternating between gentle kisses and firmer suction that had her whimpering.

[prasannas2001]

 
 
She could feel his hardness pressing against her thigh, hot and insistent even in the warm water.
 
Her hand drifted down between their bodies, wrapping around him, and Rohan groaned against her breast.
 
"Anjali," he panted, hips pressing into her grip. "You're going to kill me."
 
"Good," she managed, stroking him slowly, loving the way he throbbed in her hand, the way his breathing grew ragged.
 
His hands slid lower, over the curve of her stomach, and she released him, knowing where this was heading.
 
His fingers traced the crease where her thigh met her body, teasing, making her squirm with anticipation.
 
"Please," she whispered, surprised by her own desperate need.
 
Rohan sank to his knees on the shower floor, the water cascading over both of them.
 
His hands gripped her hips, and he looked up at her with such raw hunger that she felt it in her core.
 
"Hold onto me," he instructed.
 
Anjali's hands braced against the shower wall as Rohan lifted one of her legs over his shoulder, opening her to him.
 
The vulnerable position should have embarrassed her, but all she felt was aching want.
 
When his mouth finally made contact, she cried out, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles.
 
His tongue explored her slowly, thoroughly, finding all the sensitive places he'd discovered last night and learning new ones.
 
The water running over them added another layer of sensation, warm streams trickling down her body while his mouth worked magic between her thighs.
 
"Rohan, oh god, Rohan, " She couldn't form coherent thoughts, just fragments of pleasure as he sucked and licked and teased.
 
His fingers joined his mouth, and the combination was devastating.
 
Her legs trembled, and he held her steady, one arm wrapped around her thigh, the other hand working in tandem with his tongue.
 
He was relentless, dedicated, and when she shattered, his name was a broken prayer on her lips.
 
He didn't stop, drawing out her pleasure until she was boneless and gasping, until she had to gently push his head away because it was too much, too intense.
 
Rohan stood, water streaming down his face, and kissed her deeply, letting her taste herself on his tongue.

[prasannas2001]

 
His erection pressed insistently against her stomach, and she reached between them again.
 
"My turn," she said, echoing his words from earlier.
 
"You don't have to, "
 
"I want to," she interrupted. And she did.
 
Wanted to make him feel what she'd just felt, wanted to see him lose control the way she had.
 
Anjali sank to her knees, the shower floor hard beneath her, but she didn't care.
 
Looking up at him through the water and steam, she saw vulnerability and desire warring on his face.
 
She started slowly, hand wrapped around his base while her tongue traced the tip, tasting water and salt and him.
 
Rohan's hand came to rest on the wall, his whole body tense with restraint.
 
Taking him into her mouth, she worked him with growing confidence, remembering what had made him gasp and groan last night.
 
The shower added new challenges, water occasionally getting in the way, but somehow that made it feel even more intimate, more gloriously messy and real.
 
"Anjali, I'm close, " His voice was strained, warning her.
 
She didn't pull away, instead taking him deeper, one hand cupping and gently squeezing while her mouth worked faster.
 
His fingers threaded through her wet hair, not pushing, just holding on like she was his anchor in a storm.
 
When he came, she felt the tension release from his entire body, heard her name tumble from his lips like a confession and a prayer all at once.
 
She stayed with him until the last shudder passed through him, then slowly released him.
 
Rohan pulled her up immediately, gathering her into his arms under the still-running water.
 
They stood there, wrapped around each other, hearts pounding in sync.
 
"This is insane," he whispered into her wet hair.
 
"Completely," she agreed, but held him tighter.
 
"We have one more day."
 
"One more day," she repeated, and the bittersweet reality of it made her chest ache even as her body still hummed with satisfaction.
 
They stayed in the shower until the water started to run cold, washing each other with tender care, stealing soft kisses, memorizing every touch.
 
Because tomorrow, their parents would return.
 
And this beautiful, terrible, perfect secret would have to be locked away forever.
 
But they still had today.

[prasannas2001]

 
 
They stepped out of the shower, reaching for towels, skin flushed and sensitive.
 
The bathroom was thick with steam, the mirror completely fogged over, like the world outside this moment didn't quite exist.
 
Anjali wrapped a towel around herself, suddenly feeling shy again despite everything they'd just done.
 
Rohan noticed, a soft smile playing at his lips.
 
"Here," he said, taking another towel and gently drying her shoulders, her arms, with careful attention.
 
The gesture was so tender it made her throat tighten with emotion.
 
"You don't have to, "
 
"I want to," he said, using her own words back at her.
 
His eyes met hers in the steamy mirror as he moved behind her, towel gliding down her back.
 
"Besides, you're shivering."
 
She was, though not from cold.
 
His touch, even through the towel, sent electricity through her.
 
He dried her carefully, almost reverently, her back, the curve of her waist, down her legs.
 
When he stood, his hands lingered on her hips.
 
"Better?" he asked softly.
 
Anjali turned in his arms, reaching up to dry his hair with her towel, standing on tiptoe.
 
Water still dripped from the ends, and she worked it through the strands, the domestic intimacy of the act somehow more overwhelming than what they'd just done in the shower.
 
"We should probably get dressed," she said, though neither of them moved.
 
"Probably," Rohan agreed.
 
His hands traced idle patterns on her towel-covered waist.
 
"What do we do now?"
 
Such a loaded question.
What did they do? Pretend this was a normal morning? Make breakfast like they hadn't just crossed every line siblings should never cross?
 
"I'm hungry," Anjali admitted.
 
Her stomach chose that moment to growl, breaking the heavy tension and making them both laugh, real, genuine laughter that felt like relief.
 
"Okay then," Rohan grinned.
 
"Breakfast.
 
We can do that."
 
"We can do normal," she said, trying to convince herself.
 
"Totally normal," he agreed, but the way his eyes darkened as they traveled over her suggested nothing about this day would be normal.
 
They separated to get dressed, Anjali retreating to her room while Rohan went to his.

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The moment of physical distance brought clarity crashing back.
 
She stood in her room, staring at her reflection in her dresser mirror.
 
The girl looking back was flushed, lips swollen from kissing, hair drying in messy waves.
 
She looked thoroughly ravished, and happy.
 
That was the terrifying part.
 
She should feel guilty, disgusted, ashamed.
 
Instead, she felt alive, wanted, cherished in a way she'd never experienced.
 
"This is so messed up," she whispered to her reflection.
 
But her body still tingled with remembered pleasure, and her heart raced thinking about Rohan in the next room.
 
One more day, she reminded herself.
 
They had one more day to explore this impossible thing between them.
 
Then it would be over.
 
Buried.
 
Forgotten.
 
(Even as she thought it, she knew it was a lie.
 
This wasn't something she'd ever forget.)
 
Anjali pulled on simple clothes, cotton shorts and a tank top.
 
No bra.
 
The thought sent a thrill through her.
 
She was still making choices, still deciding to continue this.
 
When she emerged, she found Rohan in the kitchen, also dressed casually, basketball shorts and a t-shirt.
 
He'd started making coffee, and the domestic normalcy of it was jarring.
 
"Coffee?" he offered, and for a moment it was like any other morning.
 
"Please." She slid onto a barstool at the kitchen island, watching him move around the familiar space.
 
But everything felt different now.
 
The way his shirt stretched across his shoulders.
 
The flex of his arms as he reached for mugs.
 
The memory of those same hands on her body just minutes ago.
 
Rohan set her coffee down, and their fingers brushed.
 
That simple contact sent sparks up her arm.
 
Their eyes met, and she saw her own desire reflected back.
 
"So," he said, voice rougher than casual.
 
"Breakfast."
 
"Breakfast," she echoed.
 
But neither moved to actually make food.
 
The space between them felt charged, magnetic.
 
Rohan walked around the island, stopping directly in front of her stool.
 
His hands came to rest on her knees.
 
"We should eat," he said.
 
"We should," she agreed.
 
His hands slid up her thighs, thumbs tracing small circles on her skin.

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"We should be practical. Normal."
 
"Very normal." Her breathing quickened as his hands moved higher, slipping under the hem of her shorts.
 
"But all I can think about," Rohan murmured, stepping between her legs and pulling her to the edge of the stool, "is touching you again."
 
"We just, " The words died as he kissed her neck, teeth grazing sensitive skin.
 
"I know," he breathed against her throat.
 
"But I can't get enough.
 
Is that crazy?"
 
"Yes," she gasped, head tilting back to give him better access.
 
"Completely insane."
 
His hands found her breasts through the thin tank top, thumbs circling her nipples through the fabric, and she arched into his touch.
 
"No bra," he noticed, voice thick with appreciation.
 
"No," she admitted, breathless.
 
"Anjali," he groaned, and the raw need in his voice made her clench with want.
 
"What are you doing to me?"
 
"The same thing you're doing to me," she whispered, pulling him into a kiss, deep, hungry, desperate.
 
They broke apart, both breathing hard.
 
"The parents' bedroom," Rohan said.
 
"More space. More comfortable."
 
"We shouldn't, " Even as she protested, she was sliding off the stool, taking his hand.
 
"Probably not," he agreed.
 
"But we are."
 
They left their coffee cooling on the counter, forgot about breakfast entirely, and headed back upstairs, back to the scene of last night's beautiful transgression.
 
Because they had one more day.
 
And they were going to make every moment count.
 
 

[prasannas2001]

By the time they made it back downstairs, it was well past noon.
 
The morning had disappeared into tangled sheets and whispered confessions, into explorations that left them both breathless and wanting more.
 
"We really need to eat," Anjali said, rummaging through the refrigerator.
 
Her body felt deliciously sore, her lips swollen from kissing, and she couldn't stop the smile that played at her lips.
 
"Agreed," Rohan said, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder.
 
"I'm starving."
 
The casual intimacy of it, standing in their kitchen, his body pressed against her back like it was the most natural thing in the world, made her heart ache with dangerous feelings.
 
They made simple sandwiches, working together in the kitchen with an easy rhythm that felt both familiar and entirely new.
 
Every brush of hands, every shared glance carried electric undertones.
 
"Movie?" Rohan suggested as they carried their plates to the living room.
 
"Try to actually finish one this time?"
 
Anjali laughed, remembering how quickly they'd abandoned yesterday's movie.
 
"We can try."
 
They settled onto the couch, starting some action film neither of them really cared about.
 
For the first fifteen minutes, they ate and actually watched.
 
But then Rohan's arm dbangd casually over the back of the couch, his fingers playing with her hair.
 
Innocent enough.
 
Brotherly, even.
 
Except nothing between them was innocent anymore.
 
Anjali shifted closer, tucking herself against his side, and felt his sharp intake of breath.
 
His hand moved from her hair to her shoulder, tracing lazy patterns on her skin.
 
"Watching the movie," she said, though her attention was completely on his touch.
 
"Absolutely watching," he agreed, but his hand slid lower, fingertips skimming the side of her breast through her tank top.
 
She tried to focus on the explosions on screen, but all she could feel was the heat of his body, the deliberate path his hand was taking.

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When his palm cupped her breast fully, thumb brushing over her nipple, she gasped softly.
 
"Rohan..."
 
"Hmm?" His voice was innocent, but his touch was anything but.
 
He squeezed gently, and her nipple hardened against his palm.
 
"We said we'd watch the movie."
 
"I am watching," he murmured, but his other hand joined the first, both hands now exploring her breasts, kneading and teasing until she was squirming against him.
 
"You're not even looking at the screen," she breathed.
 
"Neither are you." His lips found her neck, kissing and sucking the sensitive skin while his hands continued their assault on her senses.
 
She twisted in his arms, straddling his lap to face him properly.
 
The movie forgotten entirely now.
 
His hands immediately went to her hips, grinding her down against the obvious bulge in his shorts.
 
"Can't keep my hands off you," he confessed, voice rough with need.
 
"I keep thinking I'll get enough, but then I look at you and I just, "
 
She kissed him, swallowing his words, rocking against him in a rhythm that had them both groaning into each other's mouths.
 
His hands slid under her tank top, warm palms on bare skin, traveling up her ribs until he was cupping her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples with maddening precision.
 
"Bedroom," Anjali panted when they broke for air.
 
"I need, we need, "
 
"Yes," Rohan agreed immediately.
 
They scrambled off the couch, hands still on each other, stealing kisses as they stumbled toward the stairs.
 
They didn't go to their own rooms.
 
By unspoken agreement, they headed to their parents' bedroom, the forbidden space that had become their secret sanctuary.
 
The large bed with its rumpled sheets from this morning beckoned.
 
But they stood at the foot of it, suddenly slower, more deliberate.
 
"Come here," Rohan said softly, pulling her close.
 
This kiss was different, deeper, more meaningful, carrying all the things they couldn't say out loud.
 
His hands cradled her face like she was precious, breakable, even as desire burned between them.

[prasannas2001]

 
Slowly, his hands slid down, finding the hem of her tank top.
 
"Can I?"
 
"Yes," she whispered.
 
He lifted it carefully, revealing her inch by inch.
 
The fabric dragged across her sensitive nipples, making her shiver.
 
When it was off, he tossed it aside, his eyes drinking in the sight of her.
 
"Your turn," she said, voice husky with want.
 
Anjali gripped his shirt, pulling it up and over his head.
 
Her hands immediately explored the newly exposed skin, tracing the lines of his chest and stomach, feeling his muscles flex under her touch.
 
His hands went to the waistband of her shorts, fingers hooking into the elastic.
 
"These too?"
 
"Everything," she breathed.
 
"I want everything off."
 
He knelt before her, sliding her shorts and panties down together, kissing her hip, her thigh, her knee as he revealed more skin.
 
When she was completely bare, he looked up at her with such reverence it made her breath catch.
 
"Beautiful," he whispered.
 
"So damn beautiful."
 
She pulled him up, kissing him deeply while her hands worked at his shorts.
 
She pushed them down along with his boxers, freeing his erection, and wrapped her hand around him, stroking slowly.
 
"God, Anjali, " His head fell to her shoulder, hips rocking into her grip.
 
They were both naked now, skin against skin, nothing between them.
 
She guided him backward until his legs hit the bed and he sat down.
 
She stood between his legs, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her closer.
 
"This is really happening," she said, heart pounding.
 
"One more day," he reminded her, voice thick with emotion and desire.
 
"Let's make it count."
 
"Make it count," she echoed, and climbed onto the bed, pulling him with her into the tangled sheets where nothing else mattered but this moment, this feeling, this beautiful impossible thing between them.
 
The afternoon stretched before them, hours and hours to explore, to learn each other's bodies, to create memories that would have to last a lifetime.
 
Because tomorrow, reality returned.
 
But today?
 
Today they had each other.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

[prasannas2001]

[opendoor]

Anjali

[AB-the Unicorn]

Good effort.

[prasannas2001]

Anjali

Beautiful, thank you sir

[prasannas2001]

Good effort.

Thank you so much

[prasannas2001]

Anjali in the shower