07-02-2025, 11:39 PM
(This post was last modified: 20-02-2025, 08:00 AM by Mohit.Kumar. Edited 4 times in total. Edited 4 times in total.)
This is a work of fiction. All the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this story are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are over 18 years of age.
Plot Summary: Sharan, a young, unmarried engineer, is sent on an official tour to Delhi, where he stays in a modest hotel in Paharganj. His elder sister Rupali, married and sexually repressed, harbors a taboo desire for him, ever since they had sex on his last visit few months ago. When she learns of his stay, she initiates a clandestine affair, leading to a tumultuous season of passion, guilt, and the unravelling of their carefully constructed lives.
Characters: -
Sharan: A meticulous engineer in his mid-twenties, who values his career and personal space. He is drawn into a passionate affair with his sister, having fucked her during a previous visit, struggling to reconcile his love for her with the guilt that follows.
Rupali (Rupa): A married woman in her early thirties, Rupa is child less after 7 yrs of marriage, sexually frustrated and seeking solace in the arms of her younger brother. Her desperation leads her to manipulate situations and push boundaries, even though she fears the repercussions of their actions.
Hotel Staff: The discreet and somewhat suspicious employees who unwittingly become accomplices to Sharan and Rupa's secret trysts, providing both a sense of excitement and potential danger to their encounters.
Characters: -
Sharan: A meticulous engineer in his mid-twenties, who values his career and personal space. He is drawn into a passionate affair with his sister, having fucked her during a previous visit, struggling to reconcile his love for her with the guilt that follows.
Rupali (Rupa): A married woman in her early thirties, Rupa is child less after 7 yrs of marriage, sexually frustrated and seeking solace in the arms of her younger brother. Her desperation leads her to manipulate situations and push boundaries, even though she fears the repercussions of their actions.
Hotel Staff: The discreet and somewhat suspicious employees who unwittingly become accomplices to Sharan and Rupa's secret trysts, providing both a sense of excitement and potential danger to their encounters.
Sharan, a 25-year-old engineer with a penchant for order and precision, found himself in the bustling chaos of Delhi for an official tour. The Hotel in Paharganj, though not five-star, provided him with the solace he sought at the end of his tiring work days. He lay on the crisp, white sheets of his hotel bed, feeling the sticky embrace of the city's summer heat seep into his skin. A bead of sweat traced a line down his chest, and he absently wondered how much longer he could endure the swelter before he succumbed to the hum of the air conditioner. His phone buzzed on the nightstand, a stark reminder of the world outside his temporary sanctuary.
He glanced at the message, his eyes widening at the sender's name: Rupa, his 32-year-old sister. Married and living in Delhi, she was the embodiment of stability in his otherwise nomadic life. Their bond had always been a tapestry of shared secrets and quiet moments, woven tightly during their childhood. The screen flickered with an unread message, and a thrill of something other than surprise shot through him. It was a simple text, yet the implications were as potent as a bolt of lightning: "Hey, are you busy?"
Sharan swiped his thumb across the screen, typing his reply with a tremble of anticipation. "Just resting. What's up?" He knew it was innocuous enough, but the underlying tension was palpable. The air in the room seemed to thicken, charged with a silent confession that had been simmering between them for months. Rupali's response was swift, the words a seductive whisper that seemed to caress his mind: "I need you." The heat outside was nothing compared to the inferno that ignited within him at the thought of her.
Memories of their last encounter in this very city flooded back to him, the clandestine affair that had forever changed the contours of their relationship. It had been during one of his previous visits, a trip much like this one. The night had drawn them in, a crescendo of passion that had led them to his hotel room, where they had shed their inhibitions along with their clothes. The scent of jasmine from her hair had filled the space as they had moved together in a dance as old as time, their bodies speaking a language that defied societal norms.
With a grin that was both mischievous and predatory, Sharan punched out a text. "Get your ass over here, sis. I've got a little something for that itch of yours." The words were crude, but they resonated with a raw, carnally charged energy that was as intoxicating as it was illicit. He could almost feel the heat of her blush through the phone screen.
Rupa read the message, her cheeks flushing as she bit her bottom lip. The boldness of his language made her stomach flutter with excitement. "You're a pig," she replied, her voice in the text message dripping with a mix of feigned indignation and arousal. Her heart hammered in her chest as she imagined what awaited her in that hotel room.
Sharan's response was a smirking emoji followed by, "Yeah, but you're the one who enjoys rolling around in the mud with me." His words were as crass as they were accurate, and Rupa felt her resolve to resist crumbling. Her own text was swift and loaded with desire, "Fine. But make it quick, I can't be gone long."
The seconds ticked by, each one a mini-eternity of anticipation. The knock on the door was a symphony of want, echoing through the room and reverberating in his very soul. Sharan's hand was slick with anticipation as he reached for the doorknob, turning it to reveal Rupa in all her garishly adorned glory. She was dressed in a traditional Indian choli and lehenga, the fabric a blend of vibrant reds and golds that screamed of passion and temptation. The makeup she wore was heavy and dramatic, a stark contrast to the natural beauty he knew lay beneath, but it was the look in her eyes that truly set his pulse racing—a blend of hunger and rebellion that was impossible to resist.
"Hello, Saheb," Rupa purred, her voice thick with the seductive lilt of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it. "Looking for some company?"
Sharan's eyes raked over her, drinking in the sight of her voluptuous curves, the fabric of her choli tight across her ample breasts, the neckline plunging low to reveal the shadow of her cleavage. He stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter, his voice low and gruff. "Come in, Rupa. You're dressed like you're looking to get paid for your... talents."
Rupa sashayed into the room, the jingle of her anklets announcing her presence. She twirled around, the skirt of her lehenga flaring out to show a flash of bare midriff and the crimson of her petticoat. "Is that what you think of me, bhai? A cheap whore, ready to sell herself?" Her eyes sparkled with mischief, the challenge in her voice as clear as the ring of a bell.
Sharan's gaze lingered on her, his arousal evident in his tightened grip on the doorframe. "You look the part," he said, his voice a rumble of desire. "But I know the real treasure lies beneath that cheap veneer."
"How did the Hotel guys let you come up to my room?" Sharan asked.
"Oh, I told them I was your masseuse," Rupa replied with a wink, "And judging by the way you're ogling me, I'd say they weren't entirely wrong."
Her witty answer sent Sharan into a bout of uncontrollable laughter.
Sharan chuckled, the sound rich and deep, a stark contrast to the quiet that had pervaded the hotel corridor just moments before. "You always know how to get what you want, don't you?" He closed the door behind her, the click of the lock a declaration of their intentions.
Rupa sailed closer to him, her lehenga rustling like the whispers of a thousand secrets. She placed her hand on his chest, the warmth of her skin seeping through his shirt to his skin. "Only from you," she murmured, her breath hot against his ear. Her hand traveled downward, tracing the lines of his abs with a featherlight touch before coming to rest on the bulge in his trousers. "This is what I need," she said, her voice a low, needy purr.
Their eyes locked, the air thick with unspoken confessions and a yearning that had been festering since their last encounter. His gaze fell to her lips, painted a bold red, and he couldn't resist the urge any longer. He leaned in, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was as fiery as it was forbidden. The taste of her, sweet and spicy from the remnants of the masala she had eaten, sent a jolt of electricity through him.
Her hand on his waist tightened, pulling him closer as she parted her lips, welcoming the warmth of his tongue. The kiss was a battlefield of passion and restraint; each stroke a silent declaration of the love they were never supposed to feel. Rupa's breath hitched, her body responding to the familiar yet illicit touch of her brother. Her heart pounded against her ribs, the fabric of her choli growing damp with the heat of their shared desire.
Breaking the kiss, Rupa took a step back, her hand sliding down to her waist. "Could you get me a drink, behenchod?" she asked, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. The word hung in the air, a naughty endearment that sent a shiver down Sharan's spine. Despite being a teetotaler, he felt a strange thrill at the way she used the term, a stark reminder of their shared secret.
Sharan blinked, the request taking him by surprise. He looked around the room, a sad testament to the hotel's budget constraints. "I'm sorry, Rupa," he said, his voice thick with apology. "This place is a dump. No minibar, no booze."
"No worries, mere behenchod", said Rupa, "Just call room service and ask them to get me a drink"
Sharan nodded, his throat dry from the intensity of their kiss. He picked up the phone and dialled for room service, his hand shaking slightly with desire.
He glanced at the message, his eyes widening at the sender's name: Rupa, his 32-year-old sister. Married and living in Delhi, she was the embodiment of stability in his otherwise nomadic life. Their bond had always been a tapestry of shared secrets and quiet moments, woven tightly during their childhood. The screen flickered with an unread message, and a thrill of something other than surprise shot through him. It was a simple text, yet the implications were as potent as a bolt of lightning: "Hey, are you busy?"
Sharan swiped his thumb across the screen, typing his reply with a tremble of anticipation. "Just resting. What's up?" He knew it was innocuous enough, but the underlying tension was palpable. The air in the room seemed to thicken, charged with a silent confession that had been simmering between them for months. Rupali's response was swift, the words a seductive whisper that seemed to caress his mind: "I need you." The heat outside was nothing compared to the inferno that ignited within him at the thought of her.
Memories of their last encounter in this very city flooded back to him, the clandestine affair that had forever changed the contours of their relationship. It had been during one of his previous visits, a trip much like this one. The night had drawn them in, a crescendo of passion that had led them to his hotel room, where they had shed their inhibitions along with their clothes. The scent of jasmine from her hair had filled the space as they had moved together in a dance as old as time, their bodies speaking a language that defied societal norms.
With a grin that was both mischievous and predatory, Sharan punched out a text. "Get your ass over here, sis. I've got a little something for that itch of yours." The words were crude, but they resonated with a raw, carnally charged energy that was as intoxicating as it was illicit. He could almost feel the heat of her blush through the phone screen.
Rupa read the message, her cheeks flushing as she bit her bottom lip. The boldness of his language made her stomach flutter with excitement. "You're a pig," she replied, her voice in the text message dripping with a mix of feigned indignation and arousal. Her heart hammered in her chest as she imagined what awaited her in that hotel room.
Sharan's response was a smirking emoji followed by, "Yeah, but you're the one who enjoys rolling around in the mud with me." His words were as crass as they were accurate, and Rupa felt her resolve to resist crumbling. Her own text was swift and loaded with desire, "Fine. But make it quick, I can't be gone long."
The seconds ticked by, each one a mini-eternity of anticipation. The knock on the door was a symphony of want, echoing through the room and reverberating in his very soul. Sharan's hand was slick with anticipation as he reached for the doorknob, turning it to reveal Rupa in all her garishly adorned glory. She was dressed in a traditional Indian choli and lehenga, the fabric a blend of vibrant reds and golds that screamed of passion and temptation. The makeup she wore was heavy and dramatic, a stark contrast to the natural beauty he knew lay beneath, but it was the look in her eyes that truly set his pulse racing—a blend of hunger and rebellion that was impossible to resist.
"Hello, Saheb," Rupa purred, her voice thick with the seductive lilt of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it. "Looking for some company?"
Sharan's eyes raked over her, drinking in the sight of her voluptuous curves, the fabric of her choli tight across her ample breasts, the neckline plunging low to reveal the shadow of her cleavage. He stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter, his voice low and gruff. "Come in, Rupa. You're dressed like you're looking to get paid for your... talents."
Rupa sashayed into the room, the jingle of her anklets announcing her presence. She twirled around, the skirt of her lehenga flaring out to show a flash of bare midriff and the crimson of her petticoat. "Is that what you think of me, bhai? A cheap whore, ready to sell herself?" Her eyes sparkled with mischief, the challenge in her voice as clear as the ring of a bell.
Sharan's gaze lingered on her, his arousal evident in his tightened grip on the doorframe. "You look the part," he said, his voice a rumble of desire. "But I know the real treasure lies beneath that cheap veneer."
"How did the Hotel guys let you come up to my room?" Sharan asked.
"Oh, I told them I was your masseuse," Rupa replied with a wink, "And judging by the way you're ogling me, I'd say they weren't entirely wrong."
Her witty answer sent Sharan into a bout of uncontrollable laughter.
Sharan chuckled, the sound rich and deep, a stark contrast to the quiet that had pervaded the hotel corridor just moments before. "You always know how to get what you want, don't you?" He closed the door behind her, the click of the lock a declaration of their intentions.
Rupa sailed closer to him, her lehenga rustling like the whispers of a thousand secrets. She placed her hand on his chest, the warmth of her skin seeping through his shirt to his skin. "Only from you," she murmured, her breath hot against his ear. Her hand traveled downward, tracing the lines of his abs with a featherlight touch before coming to rest on the bulge in his trousers. "This is what I need," she said, her voice a low, needy purr.
Their eyes locked, the air thick with unspoken confessions and a yearning that had been festering since their last encounter. His gaze fell to her lips, painted a bold red, and he couldn't resist the urge any longer. He leaned in, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was as fiery as it was forbidden. The taste of her, sweet and spicy from the remnants of the masala she had eaten, sent a jolt of electricity through him.
Her hand on his waist tightened, pulling him closer as she parted her lips, welcoming the warmth of his tongue. The kiss was a battlefield of passion and restraint; each stroke a silent declaration of the love they were never supposed to feel. Rupa's breath hitched, her body responding to the familiar yet illicit touch of her brother. Her heart pounded against her ribs, the fabric of her choli growing damp with the heat of their shared desire.
Breaking the kiss, Rupa took a step back, her hand sliding down to her waist. "Could you get me a drink, behenchod?" she asked, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. The word hung in the air, a naughty endearment that sent a shiver down Sharan's spine. Despite being a teetotaler, he felt a strange thrill at the way she used the term, a stark reminder of their shared secret.
Sharan blinked, the request taking him by surprise. He looked around the room, a sad testament to the hotel's budget constraints. "I'm sorry, Rupa," he said, his voice thick with apology. "This place is a dump. No minibar, no booze."
"No worries, mere behenchod", said Rupa, "Just call room service and ask them to get me a drink"
Sharan nodded, his throat dry from the intensity of their kiss. He picked up the phone and dialled for room service, his hand shaking slightly with desire.
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