27-02-2025, 08:50 PM
One lazy afternoon, Rupesh strolled in from college, plonking himself at the dining table for lunch, all casual in his green-white striped tee, chatting away with little Yuvan. Arpita, though, had a plan brewing—time to crank up the heat and see if she could rattle her shy bhai out of his shell. She slipped into that same pink saree and blouse—the one that made her fair skin glow like a bloody Pataka firecracker back in the sofa tumble days. As she sashayed over to serve him his daal-roti, she tugged the saree slyly to the left, letting the pallu slide just enough so her blouse hugged her left boob tight, putting it on full display like a damn trophy. Those firm, luscious curves were practically winking at him!
Rupesh, the clueless lad, was too busy shoveling food and giggling with Yuvan to notice her little game. Usually, Arpita would serve and scoot, but today? Oh no, she lingered, standing right by his side, close enough for him to feel the heat radiating off her. She cleared her throat with a loud "Hmmm," all dramatic like a Hindi serial vamp. Rupesh, startled, turned his head—and bam!—his eyes locked onto that pink blouse cradling her perfect boob. It hit him like a 440-volt jolt straight to the gut! His body froze, his brain short-circuited, and all the blood in his veins made a mad dash south. In milliseconds, his shaft sprang to life, harder than a steel rod, bigger than he’d ever felt—like it was ready to burst through his pants!
Flustered, he whipped his head away, cheeks burning, thinking, "Arre, yeh galti se dikh gaya hoga!" Arpita, cool as a cucumber, purred, "Khana kaisa laga, Rupesh?" His voice came out shaky, a nervous squeak—"Achha hai"—eyes glued to his plate, not daring to look up. His hands trembled like he’d seen a bhoot, spoon clattering against the plate. His mind was a blank slate, but his body? Oh, it had its own bloody agenda! That throbbing erection was screaming for control, and he couldn’t even think straight—his shaft felt like a ticking bomb, ready to explode into a million pieces. For the first time, he realized his body was a traitor with a mind of its own!
Poor Rupesh couldn’t take it anymore. He bolted from the table, lunch half-eaten, muttering some excuse, and dashed upstairs to his terrace room like a man possessed. Arpita watched him flee, a tiny smirk tugging at her lips. Sure, she was a tad disappointed he didn’t rise to the bait, but oh bhai, the way he’d turned pale as a ghost, hands shaking, voice cracking—it was pure gold! She reveled in the chaos she’d unleashed, proud as a peacock. Even after popping out Yuvan, she still had it—the power to make men weak in the knees. Everywhere she went, heads turned, jaws dropped, and now, seeing her own bhai crumble under her spell? That was the ultimate ego boost!
Rupesh, locked in his room, was a mess. He was terrified to look at her—her warning still echoing in his head—but God help him, he *wanted* to. As he fled, his traitor eyes betrayed him again, stealing one last desperate glance at that pink-clad boob before he slammed the door shut. His heart pounded, his mind blank, and his body still raging with that uncontrollable heat. Meanwhile, Arpita stood there, basking in her victory—mother of a kid or not, she was still the queen of seduction, and Rupesh’s meltdown was proof her beauty could bring any man to his knees!
Rupesh, the clueless lad, was too busy shoveling food and giggling with Yuvan to notice her little game. Usually, Arpita would serve and scoot, but today? Oh no, she lingered, standing right by his side, close enough for him to feel the heat radiating off her. She cleared her throat with a loud "Hmmm," all dramatic like a Hindi serial vamp. Rupesh, startled, turned his head—and bam!—his eyes locked onto that pink blouse cradling her perfect boob. It hit him like a 440-volt jolt straight to the gut! His body froze, his brain short-circuited, and all the blood in his veins made a mad dash south. In milliseconds, his shaft sprang to life, harder than a steel rod, bigger than he’d ever felt—like it was ready to burst through his pants!
Flustered, he whipped his head away, cheeks burning, thinking, "Arre, yeh galti se dikh gaya hoga!" Arpita, cool as a cucumber, purred, "Khana kaisa laga, Rupesh?" His voice came out shaky, a nervous squeak—"Achha hai"—eyes glued to his plate, not daring to look up. His hands trembled like he’d seen a bhoot, spoon clattering against the plate. His mind was a blank slate, but his body? Oh, it had its own bloody agenda! That throbbing erection was screaming for control, and he couldn’t even think straight—his shaft felt like a ticking bomb, ready to explode into a million pieces. For the first time, he realized his body was a traitor with a mind of its own!
Poor Rupesh couldn’t take it anymore. He bolted from the table, lunch half-eaten, muttering some excuse, and dashed upstairs to his terrace room like a man possessed. Arpita watched him flee, a tiny smirk tugging at her lips. Sure, she was a tad disappointed he didn’t rise to the bait, but oh bhai, the way he’d turned pale as a ghost, hands shaking, voice cracking—it was pure gold! She reveled in the chaos she’d unleashed, proud as a peacock. Even after popping out Yuvan, she still had it—the power to make men weak in the knees. Everywhere she went, heads turned, jaws dropped, and now, seeing her own bhai crumble under her spell? That was the ultimate ego boost!
Rupesh, locked in his room, was a mess. He was terrified to look at her—her warning still echoing in his head—but God help him, he *wanted* to. As he fled, his traitor eyes betrayed him again, stealing one last desperate glance at that pink-clad boob before he slammed the door shut. His heart pounded, his mind blank, and his body still raging with that uncontrollable heat. Meanwhile, Arpita stood there, basking in her victory—mother of a kid or not, she was still the queen of seduction, and Rupesh’s meltdown was proof her beauty could bring any man to his knees!
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