Incest Little sis Anjali and her friends

[prasannas2001]

 
Rohan, who had been watching them with a lazy, contented smile, finally stirred.
 
He gently withdrew from Neetu, eliciting a soft, involuntary moan from her lips, and rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his hand.
 
He looked at Neetu, his expression a mixture of deep satisfaction and something else, something softer, more tender.
 
"You okay?" he asked, his voice a low, gentle murmur.
 
Neetu turned to face him, her body aching in the most delicious way.
 
She reached out and gently traced the line of his jaw, her touch no longer hesitant, but confident and sure.
 
"I'm more than okay," she whispered, her eyes meeting his. "I'm... whole."
 
The word hung in the air, heavy with meaning.
 
It was the truth.
 
She felt whole, complete, as if a missing piece of her had finally been found in this most forbidden of places.
 
Anjali watched them, a knowing, slightly wistful look in her eyes.
 
She was happy for them, truly she was.
 
But a small, sharp pang of something she couldn't quite name pricked at her.
 
She had been the architect of this night, the conductor of their symphony of sin.
 
She had given them this gift, this incredible, life-altering experience.
 
But as she watched them, a new, powerful bond forming between them, she couldn't help but feel a little... left out.
 
She had Rohan's love, his devotion, his body.
 
But she would never have this.
 
She would never be the one he deflowered, the one who claimed his virginity in
 
The sheer, exhaustive pleasure of the night finally claimed them.
 
The tangled limbs and sweat-slicked bodies slowly stilled, their breathing evening out into the deep, rhythmic patterns of sleep.
 
Rohan lay in the middle, an arm dbangd possessively over each girl, a king in his debauched kingdom.
 
Anjali was curled into his side, her head on his chest, her breathing soft and even, a picture of sated contentment.
 
Neetu, on his other side, lay on her back, her limbs sprawled in abandon.
 

Sleep was not a gentle escape for her; it was a turbulent sea where her old innocence drowned and a new, complicated self was born.

[prasannas2001]

Wow! guys, I have just noticed, my profile changed to 

Senior Member



Thank you all for your support. 

[prasannas2001]

 
The morning sun was brighter, more unforgiving than the dawn.
 
It illuminated the chaos of the room: discarded clothes, empty glasses, and the large, tell-tale stain on the center of the bed.
 
A new, unfamiliar tension filled the air, the heavy silence of a morning after.
 
Anjali was the first to break it, stretching languidly like a cat, a confident smirk already playing on her lips.
 
"Morning," she purred, her voice husky.
 
"I trust everyone slept well?"
 
Before anyone could answer, a piercing ring shattered the morning calm.
 
It was Neetu's phone, lying on the nightstand.
 
The sound was jarring, a sudden, brutal intrusion from the world they had so thoroughly left behind the night before.
 
Neetu scrambled for it, her heart lurching into her throat.
 
The screen flashed "MOM."
 
"Hello?" she answered, her voice trembling slightly.
 
"Neetu! Beta, where are you? Have you started from Anjali’s house yet?" came the worried, familiar voice of her mother.
 
"I... I'm still at Anjali's house, Mummy. We... we watched movies and fell asleep late," Neetu stammered, her eyes wide with panic as she looked at Rohan and Anjali.
 
"Oh, that is good. Her parents are home? Or not reached yet?"
 
"No, Mummy. They're still away. It's just... just me and Anjali. And her brother, Rohan. He was here too."
 
There was a slight pause on the other end of the line.
 
"Oh. Okay. Well, I need you home soon. Can Rohan drop you off? I don't like you to wait for auto now, it is already late."
 
Neetu's mind raced. "Yes, Mummy. Of course. We'll... we'll leave in an hour."
 
"Good. And hurry up. I'm making your favorite aloo paratha."
 
The call ended, and the silence that followed was heavier than before.
 
The real world was knocking, demanding their return.
 
"Right," Rohan said, his voice all business as he swung his legs out of bed.
 

[prasannas2001]

[prasannas2001]

"Operation: Get Neetu Home Without Her Mom Suspecting a Thing is a go." He stood up, unabashedly naked, his body a magnificent testament to the night's activities.
 
Neetu couldn't help but stare, a fresh wave of heat washing over her as she remembered the feel of him inside her.
 
Anjali laughed, getting up and stretching.
 
"I'll start the laundry. This comforter has seen better days." She grabbed the stained bedding, a look of profound satisfaction on her face.
 
The next hour was a flurry of frantic, whispered activity.
 
They showered, Neetu blushing furiously as she washed the evidence of the night from her body, the soreness between her legs a constant, throbbing reminder.
 
They dressed, the awkwardness palpable.
 
The easy intimacy of the night had evaporated, replaced by a clumsy, furtive need to erase it.
 
Rohan found a stray earring under the pillow and handed it to Neetu without a word, their fingers brushing for a fraction of a second, sending an electric jolt through them both.
 
Finally, they stood by the door, ready to leave.
 
Anjali hugged Neetu, her embrace tight and surprisingly reassuring.
 
"Call me," she whispered in her ear.
 
"And don't you dare feel guilty. It was perfect."
 
Neetu nodded her head… She knew she enjoyed what happened, even though she didn’t plan for that.
 
Rohan just nodded, his expression unreadable.
 
"Let's go."
 
The ride on Rohan bike was a revelation.
 
The cool morning air whipped past them, clearing the fog of sleep and confusion from Neetu's mind.
 
She held on tentatively at first, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders.
 
But as they navigated the quiet streets, she found herself leaning in, her body pressing against his back, her arms wrapping tighter around his waist.
 
She could feel the solid warmth of him, the steady thrum of the engine vibrating through them both.
 
It was an innocent enough embrace, a common sight on the streets of their city.
 
But for Neetu, it was everything.
 
It was a public declaration, however small, of their new connection.
 
She rested her helmet against his back, a small, contented smile on her lips.
 
The fear and confusion were still there, but they were being overshadowed by a new, powerful feeling.
 
A feeling that felt dangerously like love.
 
They pulled up in front of a modest but well-kept apartment building.
 
As Rohan cut the engine, the front door opened, and a woman stepped out.
 
And…
 
Rohan's world tilted on its axis.

 
It was Mamta. 



Neetu’s mother.

[prasannas2001]

Neetu’s mother, Mamta, was younger than Rohan had expected. Much younger.
 
She didn’t look like the mother of an eighteen-year-old daughter. There was a youthful grace about her, an effortless elegance that made her seem more like an older sister than a parent.
 
She wore a simple pastel salwar kameez, understated and traditional, yet she carried herself with a confidence that made even the simplest outfit appear graceful. There was a quiet beauty in the way she moved, the kind that came not from trying to impress anyone but from being completely comfortable in her own presence.
 
Her eyes immediately reminded Rohan of Neetu’s, dark, expressive, and full of emotion. But where Neetu’s eyes carried the openness and curiosity of youth, Mamta’s held something deeper: years of experience, patience, and a wisdom that made her both warm and slightly intimidating.
 
Her complexion was fair and radiant, her hair neatly tied back in an elegant knot that framed her face and gave her a calm, composed appearance. There was a dignity about her, a quiet strength that was impossible to miss.
 
She was, in a word, striking.
 
"Neetu! There you are. I hope you had a nice time," Mamta called out, her voice carrying a gentle musical quality as she hurried down the steps.
 
Her face softened as she looked at her daughter, her eyes scanning Neetu with the familiar concern of a mother making sure everything was alright.
 
Then her gaze shifted to Rohan.
 
For a brief moment, there was a change in her expression.
 
Not suspicion. Not judgment.
 
Just curiosity.
 
A mother’s natural instinct to understand the person standing beside her daughter.
 
"And you must be Rohan," she said with a polite smile. "Thank you so much for bringing her home. That was very kind of you."
 
Rohan quickly straighten himself and stood up properly, suddenly feeling awkward and younger than he had a moment ago. He wasn’t sure why, but standing in front of Neetu’s mother made him strangely conscious of himself.
 
"It was no problem, Aunty," he replied. "She’s my sister’s best friend."
 
The word felt unfamiliar as he said it.
 
Aunty.
 
It was the respectful thing to say, the way he had been taught. Yet there was something about Mamta’s presence that made the word feel oddly formal. She didn’t carry herself like someone distant or ordinary. She had a warmth that immediately put people at ease, while still maintaining a natural authority.
 
"Come inside, both of you," Mamta said, stepping aside and gesturing toward the house. "You must be hungry. I was just making breakfast. Rohan, you will join us, won’t you? You came all this way, and I’m sure you haven’t eaten yet."
 
It wasn’t really a question.
 
It was an invitation wrapped in kindness, delivered with such warmth and sincerity that refusing would have felt almost rude.
 
Rohan glanced briefly at Neetu, who gave him a small, amused smile, as if she already knew her mother had made the decision for him.
 
"Yes, Aunty. Thank you," he said.
 
The words came out a little more quietly than he intended, and he followed them toward the house, still feeling strangely nervous.
 
He had expected a quick greeting, perhaps a polite thank you before leaving.
 
He hadn’t expected the easy warmth of being welcomed in.
 
As he stepped inside, he noticed the little details around him, the neatly arranged furniture, the faint aroma of freshly prepared food drifting from the kitchen, the comfortable feeling of a home where care and affection seemed to exist in every corner.
 
For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he suddenly felt less like a guest and more like someone who had been allowed a glimpse into a world that was close-knit, familiar, and full of quiet warmth.
 
And somehow, that made him even more aware of the moment.
 
 
 

[prasannas2001]

 
The apartment was bright and airy, filled with the scent of freshly made parathas and brewing chai.
 
It was the scent of a home, a loving, functional home, and it made Rohan's own chaotic, pleasure-filled morning seem like a scene from another planet.
 
As Mamta bustled around the kitchen, her movements efficient and graceful, Rohan couldn't take his eyes off her.
 
He watched the way her dupatta dbangd over her shoulder, the way her bangles jingled softly on her wrists, the way a stray tendril of hair had escaped her knot and was curling gently at the nape of her neck.
 
He saw Neetu in her, of course, but where Neetu's beauty was that of a budding flower, Mamta's was that of a flower in full, glorious, and dangerous bloom.
 
She was twenty when she had Neetu, and she is 38 now.
 
Rohan tried to imagine her at his age, full of the same restless energy and desires that churned within him, and the image that formed in his mind was so potent it made him shift uncomfortably in his chair.
 
"So, Rohan," Mamta said, placing a plate of steaming aloo parathas in front of him, her fingers accidentally brushing his.
 
The touch was fleeting, but it sent a jolt through him that was far more powerful than it should have been.
 
"What are you studying beta? What are your plans after your studies?"
 
The conversation continued just like that.. They talked about his studies, his ambitions, the city.
  
Rohan found himself opening up to her in a way he rarely did with anyone, even his own sister.
 
There was an easy, natural flow to their conversation, a comfort that felt both surprising and utterly right.
 
He discovered they shared a similar dry sense of humor, a love for old Hindi films, and a surprising mutual disdain for the city's new metro project.

[Rakul1985]

Wow! guys, I have just noticed, my profile changed to 

Senior Member



Thank you all for your support. 

Congratulations

[prasannas2001]

Congratulations

Thank you so much Rakul

[prasannas2001]

[prasannas2001]

Mamta, Neetu's mom

[ananth1986]

Waiting for Mamtha getting laid by Rohan

[prasannas2001]

Waiting for Mamtha  getting laid by Rohan

Thank you so much. Yes she will be.

[prasannas2001]

 
Rohan wasn't just flirting; he was connecting.
 
He was seeing the intelligent, witty, vibrant woman behind the beautiful face, and the combination was intoxicating.
 
As he ate, he watched her.
 
He watched the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed, the way she tucked that stray strand of hair behind her ear, the graceful way she moved around her small kitchen.
 
He was no longer just looking at Neetu's mom; he was looking at Mamta.
 
And Mamta was a woman he wanted to know.
 
A woman he wanted... more.
 
Neetu, meanwhile, sat quietly, pushing a piece of paratha around her plate.
 
She watched the interaction between her mother and the boy who had taken her virginity just hours ago, and a confusing storm of emotions churned within her.
 
There was pride, that the boy who had chosen her was so charming, so handsome.
 
There was a strange, vicarious thrill in watching him work his magic on her own mother.
 
But beneath it all, a cold, sharp needle of unease was piercing through her post-coital haze.
 
She saw the way her mother's eyes lingered on him, the way her laugh was a little too bright, the way she found excuses to touch his arm.
 
And she knew, with a sinking certainty, that Rohan was no longer just hers.
 
He was a hunter, and he had just spotted a new, far more challenging prey.
 
Finally, the breakfast was over.
 
"Well, I should get going," Rohan said, standing up, the reluctance in his voice palpable.
 
"Thank you so much for breakfast, Aunty. It was the best I've ever had."
 
"The pleasure was all mine, Rohan," Mamta said, walking him to the door.
 
"You must come again. Anjali comes often with Neetu. She is always welcome. But you never came Rohan. You seems to be a very nice boy. You are most welcome anytime."
 
Her eyes met his, and in their depths, he saw an open invitation, a flicker of something that went far beyond simple hospitality.

[prasannas2001]

[prasannas2001]

 
Rohan rode home in a daze, the scent of Mamta's perfume and the taste of her parathas clinging to him.
 
The image of her was burned into his mind: her expressive eyes, her graceful neck, the warmth of her smile.
 
He had felt a connection with her, a spark that was infinitely more potent than the simple, raw lust he felt for Neetu.
 
Neetu was a conquest, a beautiful, delicious fruit to be plucked and enjoyed.
 
But Mamta... Mamta was a mystery to be unraveled, a challenge to be won.
 
She was a woman, not a girl, and the thought of possessing her, of making this sophisticated, beautiful woman gasp his name, was a desire so profound it scared him.
 
When Rohan came home, he found Anjali in their room, scrolling through her phone.
 
She looked up as he entered, a knowing smirk on her face.
 
"So? How was the drop-off? Did you meet her mom?"
 
Rohan didn't even have to answer.
 
The look on his face said it all.
 
Anjali's smirk widened into a full-blown, triumphant grin.
 
"Oh, my God. You've got it bad, don't you? I knew it! I knew you would. She's a total MILF."
 
"She's... incredible," Rohan breathed, sinking onto his bed, his mind still replaying every moment of the morning.
 
"It's not just that she's beautiful. It's... everything. The way she talks, the way she moves. I've never felt anything like it."
 
"So, what's the plan, big brother?" Anjali asked, her eyes gleaming with conspiratorial excitement.
 
"You can't exactly ask her out on a date. 'Hey, Aunty, wanna go catch a movie and then maybe you can ride my cock?' I don't think that'll work."
 
Rohan glared at her, but there was no heat in it.
 
She was right. He was trapped.
 
He had this incredible, burning desire for a woman who was, for all intents and purposes, completely inaccessible.

[prasannas2001]

 
Rohan is a 20-year-old boy, and she was his best friend's mother, a married woman.
 
The obstacles were immense, almost insurmountable.
 
But as he lay there, the image of Mamta's smiling face in his mind, a new, ruthless resolve began to harden within him.
 
He had orchestrated the seduction of Neetu with careful planning and manipulation.
 
He could do this.
He would do this.
He just needed a way in.
 
A way to see her again, to talk to her, to be in her presence without the awkwardness of a formal invitation.
 
He needed Neetu.
 
The idea came to him slowly, a dark, twisted seed of a plan taking root in his mind.
 
Neetu felt guilty.
 
He had seen it in her eyes this morning.
 
She was caught between the memory of their incredible night and the reality of her friendship with Anjali, her loyalty to her mother.
 
He could use that guilt.
 
He could twist it, mold it, use it to his advantage.
 
He picked up his phone, his fingers hovering over Neetu's contact.
 
He wouldn't threaten her, not yet.
 
The recording he had made of their encounter, a secret insurance policy he'd set up on his phone before the games even began, was a card he would play only if he had to.
 
For now, a softer, more insidious approach was needed.
 
He typed out a message: "Hey. About last night... I know things are probably weird now. But it was amazing for me. I can't stop thinking about you. Can we talk?"
 
He hit send.
 
A moment later, the reply came: "I know. It's weird. But... it was amazing for me too."
 
Good.
 
The hook was baited.

[prasannas2001]

 
Rohan waited a few hours, letting her stew, letting her remember the pleasure, letting the guilt and the desire war within her.
 
Then, he sent the second message.
 
"I need to see you. Not like that. Just... to talk. I feel like we're connected now, you know? And...”
 
“I feel bad about how I left things this morning. With your mom. I think I might have been... too friendly. I was just nervous. I don't want her to get the wrong idea."
 
It was a masterpiece of emotional manipulation.
 
He was framing his interest in Mamta as a social faux pas, a clumsy mistake he needed her help to correct.
 
He was making himself vulnerable, asking for her guidance, all while subtly reinforcing the idea that there was an idea to correct.
 
Neetu's reply was almost immediate.
 
"No! It wasn't too friendly! She really liked you, I could tell. Don't worry about it."
 
Now for the kill.
 
"Really? That's a relief. It's just... she's so cool. And smart. I wish I had a chance to talk to her more, you know? As a friend. To make a better impression."
 
He let the message hang in the air for a minute before adding the final, poisoned barb.
 
"But I guess that's not possible. As I have no reason to come to your house often. Anjali might come to see you, as you and Anjali always meet.”
 
“But for me, I never came to your house except this time. It was probably a one-time thing. Anyway, I was thinking about you all day."
 
He had given her an out, a way to make him happy, to alleviate her perceived guilt, and to feel like she was in control of the situation, all while serving his own agenda.
 
It worked perfectly.
 
"It's not a one-time thing!" Neetu typed back, the words coming fast.
 
"I can fix it! I'll invite you and Anjali over for dinner! Like, this week! Mom's been wanting to have Anjali's family over anyway. It'll be perfect! You can talk to her then!"
 
Rohan smiled, a slow, predatory smile.
 
The trap was sprung.

[Rakul1985]

Hmmmm

[prasannas2001]

Hmmmm

Hahaha, what happened? You didn't like it? Hahaha