09-02-2023, 12:03 PM
My name is Vikas, I am from Lucknow, India and this is the story of how our tenant turned my innocent sister into a sex maniac.
This is a true story which I haven't been able to discuss with anyone. Even as I enter my late 20s, it bothers me, fascinates me, and turns me on like nothing else in the world. I am married with a kid and my wife doesn't know why on some nights, I ravage her pussy like a monster. She has no idea what goes on in my head on those nights.
The tale begins on a sombre note. Almost a decade ago, my mother passed away due to cancer. My sister and I were very young. It was devastating for us! We, as a family, were always a bit anti-social because my father was highly-educated and well-earning, and therefore didn't gel well with my extended family, all illiterate and judgemental folks. However, our father didn't let grief get the better of him. He still woke up on time, went about his day, and took care of us. We would cry for hours sitting beside him but he never broke.
But, just in a few months, my sister took control. She matured so quickly that it baffled us all. She would cook for us, help me with my homework and even ran errands every day. She became the woman of the house, even when she was still just a girl. All this while, she didn't lose focus on her studies. Thus, just days after she turned 18, she got in into one of the top colleges in our city, that too in an English Literature course.
Her maturity also started reflecting on her body. As an 18 year old, she looked nothing short of an actress. I won't use the word sexy. The word that fits her is beautiful. She had sharp features, straight, dark and long hair, that slightly curled towards the end. Her height was 5'4. She wore a nose ring and her ears were always adorned by long, hanging earrings. Her boobs were average but of the right size to make her look like the perfect wife material. Losing mom at a young age gave her eyes an air of sadness that made her look even more attractive.
She always dressed modestly, in salwar-kameez-dupatta. You can best describe her as Dakota Fanning if she were Indian. Because she had matured so early and looked so goddamn beautiful, all the guys in her college had a crush on her. Majority of her classmates told her that they wanted to marry her, instead of approaching her with sexual advances. My illiterate extended family even started sending her marriage propositions. From men, 10-15 years older than her!
It was getting crazy for her but she didn't let it all get to her head. She dated a boy for a few months but he was too immature for her. She would reject a boy every day, albeit modestly. It wasn't pride that stopped her from dating, like it usually is for pretty girls, but she just couldn't gel well with anyone. Besides that, she was always so busy looking after us that she simply didn't have the time and space to think for herself. All that changed, of course, when Kartar Singh Ji started living with us.
We owned a massive house and a section of it was completely unoccupied. As my sister and I started getting older and ready for college, my dad thought of renting out that section to get some extra income. After rejecting many candidates, we zeroed in on a certain Kartar Singh. A 50-something Sikh guy from Punjab who was going to stay in Lucknow for a few months. He ran a small business in Punjab and was looking to form contacts in Uttar Pradesh to expand his prospects. He wasn't too well-off and came from a middle-class family like ours. He also had a very jolly and caring nature. So, accepting him as a tenant was a no brainer.
He was almost 5'10, borderline obese, had a salt and pepper beard that flowed till his collar bone and always wore an orange turban. He had thick, heavy hands which I felt whenever he used to pat my back, and he did that quite often. His friendly nature, joyous energy and friendliness made us gel well and we started treating him as part of the family. Even for my sister, things began changing as she could finally feel like a child with Kartar Singh around. But then things took such an unexpected turn.
As we became comfortable with Kartar Singh, my dad started spending more and more time outside. He started socialising, accepted a touring job and would be away most weekends. Kartar Singh's room had a TV with cable so my sister and I would spend our evenings watching films in his room, on his bed. I would sit in the middle and they would sit on either side while we shared a blanket.
One cold December evening, we were watching a film as was the custom. My father had gone for a tour towards the Southern part of the country and we were alone with Kartar Singh. It had been more than a year since Kartar Singh started living with us. He was family now. My sister was now almost 20 and I had turned 18 merely days before. We treated Kartar Singh as an uncle and he would often talk about how we were exactly like his kids back home. He only visited them every 6 months, so it was no wonder that he was so emotionally attached to us.
This is a true story which I haven't been able to discuss with anyone. Even as I enter my late 20s, it bothers me, fascinates me, and turns me on like nothing else in the world. I am married with a kid and my wife doesn't know why on some nights, I ravage her pussy like a monster. She has no idea what goes on in my head on those nights.
The tale begins on a sombre note. Almost a decade ago, my mother passed away due to cancer. My sister and I were very young. It was devastating for us! We, as a family, were always a bit anti-social because my father was highly-educated and well-earning, and therefore didn't gel well with my extended family, all illiterate and judgemental folks. However, our father didn't let grief get the better of him. He still woke up on time, went about his day, and took care of us. We would cry for hours sitting beside him but he never broke.
But, just in a few months, my sister took control. She matured so quickly that it baffled us all. She would cook for us, help me with my homework and even ran errands every day. She became the woman of the house, even when she was still just a girl. All this while, she didn't lose focus on her studies. Thus, just days after she turned 18, she got in into one of the top colleges in our city, that too in an English Literature course.
Her maturity also started reflecting on her body. As an 18 year old, she looked nothing short of an actress. I won't use the word sexy. The word that fits her is beautiful. She had sharp features, straight, dark and long hair, that slightly curled towards the end. Her height was 5'4. She wore a nose ring and her ears were always adorned by long, hanging earrings. Her boobs were average but of the right size to make her look like the perfect wife material. Losing mom at a young age gave her eyes an air of sadness that made her look even more attractive.
She always dressed modestly, in salwar-kameez-dupatta. You can best describe her as Dakota Fanning if she were Indian. Because she had matured so early and looked so goddamn beautiful, all the guys in her college had a crush on her. Majority of her classmates told her that they wanted to marry her, instead of approaching her with sexual advances. My illiterate extended family even started sending her marriage propositions. From men, 10-15 years older than her!
It was getting crazy for her but she didn't let it all get to her head. She dated a boy for a few months but he was too immature for her. She would reject a boy every day, albeit modestly. It wasn't pride that stopped her from dating, like it usually is for pretty girls, but she just couldn't gel well with anyone. Besides that, she was always so busy looking after us that she simply didn't have the time and space to think for herself. All that changed, of course, when Kartar Singh Ji started living with us.
We owned a massive house and a section of it was completely unoccupied. As my sister and I started getting older and ready for college, my dad thought of renting out that section to get some extra income. After rejecting many candidates, we zeroed in on a certain Kartar Singh. A 50-something Sikh guy from Punjab who was going to stay in Lucknow for a few months. He ran a small business in Punjab and was looking to form contacts in Uttar Pradesh to expand his prospects. He wasn't too well-off and came from a middle-class family like ours. He also had a very jolly and caring nature. So, accepting him as a tenant was a no brainer.
He was almost 5'10, borderline obese, had a salt and pepper beard that flowed till his collar bone and always wore an orange turban. He had thick, heavy hands which I felt whenever he used to pat my back, and he did that quite often. His friendly nature, joyous energy and friendliness made us gel well and we started treating him as part of the family. Even for my sister, things began changing as she could finally feel like a child with Kartar Singh around. But then things took such an unexpected turn.
As we became comfortable with Kartar Singh, my dad started spending more and more time outside. He started socialising, accepted a touring job and would be away most weekends. Kartar Singh's room had a TV with cable so my sister and I would spend our evenings watching films in his room, on his bed. I would sit in the middle and they would sit on either side while we shared a blanket.
One cold December evening, we were watching a film as was the custom. My father had gone for a tour towards the Southern part of the country and we were alone with Kartar Singh. It had been more than a year since Kartar Singh started living with us. He was family now. My sister was now almost 20 and I had turned 18 merely days before. We treated Kartar Singh as an uncle and he would often talk about how we were exactly like his kids back home. He only visited them every 6 months, so it was no wonder that he was so emotionally attached to us.
जिंदगी की राहों में रंजो गम के मेले हैं.
भीड़ है क़यामत की फिर भी हम अकेले हैं.
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