05-03-2025, 11:48 PM
Rupesh stumbled into his room, the echo of Arpita’s sobs ringing in his ears as he slammed the door shut and twisted the lock with a trembling hand. His chest heaved, breath ragged, as he leaned against the wood—horrified by her outburst, terrified by the force with which she’d shoved him out. Her tears, her whispered “What did you make me do?”—they clawed at him, slicing through the euphoria that had cocooned him moments ago. He slid down to the floor, back pressed to the door, and buried his face in his hands, questioning everything. Had he forced her? Pushed her too far? The doubt gnawed at him, a cold, creeping fear that he’d crossed a line she hadn’t wanted to breach.
But then—memories flared, hot and vivid, cutting through the haze. The way she’d kissed him—fierce, hungry, her tongue thrusting into his mouth like she couldn’t get enough. The way she’d rocked her hips beneath him, fucking his shaft with a desperate rhythm, urging him deeper. The way her hand had seized his cock, guiding it to her pussy, pulling him inside with a need that matched his own. No, he reasoned, she’d wanted it—craved it as much as he had—until guilt crashed over her like a tidal wave. She was drowning in shame, he realized, torn up about betraying her husband, fucking her own brother instead. The thought softened his panic, replaced it with a flicker of understanding—but it couldn’t dim the ecstasy still thrumming through him.
His first sexual encounter had cracked open a world he’d never known—a paradise found in the warm, wet grip of a woman’s pussy. Arpita’s pussy. He shifted, cock twitching faintly in his shorts at the memory—her slick heat enveloping him, pulsing around him, milking him dry as he came inside her. It was bliss, pure and primal, a happiness he wanted to chase forever. He longed to bury his shaft in that warmness again, to lose himself in her softness, her scent, her surrender. The intensity of it—the way her body had yielded, the way she’d moaned—left him giddy, drunk on her. Exhaustion tugged at him, the high of their sex and the crash of her rejection pulling him under. He crawled to his bed, collapsing onto the sheets, and let sleep claim him—dreams swirling with her taste, her touch, her trembling form beneath him.
Across the hall, Arpita was a wreck. Alone in her locked room, she curled into herself, the reality of what she’d done with Rupesh sinking its claws deep. Powerless, broken, she sobbed into her pillow—tears soaking the fabric as guilt gnawed at her soul. She’d cheated on her husband, crossed a line she couldn’t un-cross, and the weight of it crushed her. It had started innocently enough—showing off her assets to cheer Rupesh up, teasing him with glimpses of her breasts, her hips, her allure. A harmless game to make him smile. She’d never meant for it to spiral into this—sex with her own brother, a sin so unthinkable it left her reeling. But God, when she remembered it—his cock sliding into her, filling her, fucking her with a passion she’d never known—the sensation overwhelmed her mind, drowning out the shame with a flood of raw, visceral heat.
Her body still hummed with it—his hands on her breasts, squeezing with a strength that bordered on worship; his mouth devouring her pussy, sucking her clit until she’d shattered; his shaft pumping inside her, claiming her in ways her husband never had. Rupesh had looked at her body like it was a masterpiece—eyes dark with lust, tracing every curve—and it made her realize the power she held, the effect she could have on men. It was a pleasure she’d never tasted before, a revelation carved in the strength of his touch, the fervor of his thrusts. Her husband’s sex—stiff, routine, perfunctory—paled to this. Rupesh had loved her body, worshipped it, shown her a way of fucking that was wild, joyful, alive. Her pussy, a part of her she’d barely understood, had erupted with pleasure she didn’t know it could give—waves of ecstasy crashing through her, orchestrated by her brother’s relentless passion.
She wanted to hate him—God, she tried. She wanted to curse him for igniting this fire, for pulling her into this abyss. The sex had been so good—too good—her mind drifting back to him unbidden, replaying every thrust, every squeeze, every shuddering climax. Her skin prickled at the memory, nipples hardening beneath her t-shirt, pussy tingling with an echo of his cum still inside her. She despised herself for it—for not being strong enough to stop him, to stop herself. Her hands clenched the sheets, nails digging in as she imagined the fallout—if their parents found out, if her husband knew—the family would fracture, her life would collapse. She hated Rupesh for starting it, for planting the seed that had bloomed into this chaos. But beneath the hate, beneath the guilt, her body ached for him—a traitor’s longing she couldn’t silence.
Tears streamed down her face, hot and endless, as she cried helplessly—lost, torn, unable to untangle the mess of desire and dread. Her sobs grew ragged, chest heaving, throat raw from the silent screams she couldn’t release. The exhaustion hit hard—the sex, the crying, the war inside her draining every ounce of strength. She collapsed fully onto the bed, face buried in the damp pillow, body limp and spent—her pussy still faintly pulsing, a cruel reminder of their sin. Darkness crept in, merciful and heavy, and she passed out—tears drying on her cheeks, dreams flickering with Rupesh’s hands, his heat, the pleasure she couldn’t unlearn.
But then—memories flared, hot and vivid, cutting through the haze. The way she’d kissed him—fierce, hungry, her tongue thrusting into his mouth like she couldn’t get enough. The way she’d rocked her hips beneath him, fucking his shaft with a desperate rhythm, urging him deeper. The way her hand had seized his cock, guiding it to her pussy, pulling him inside with a need that matched his own. No, he reasoned, she’d wanted it—craved it as much as he had—until guilt crashed over her like a tidal wave. She was drowning in shame, he realized, torn up about betraying her husband, fucking her own brother instead. The thought softened his panic, replaced it with a flicker of understanding—but it couldn’t dim the ecstasy still thrumming through him.
His first sexual encounter had cracked open a world he’d never known—a paradise found in the warm, wet grip of a woman’s pussy. Arpita’s pussy. He shifted, cock twitching faintly in his shorts at the memory—her slick heat enveloping him, pulsing around him, milking him dry as he came inside her. It was bliss, pure and primal, a happiness he wanted to chase forever. He longed to bury his shaft in that warmness again, to lose himself in her softness, her scent, her surrender. The intensity of it—the way her body had yielded, the way she’d moaned—left him giddy, drunk on her. Exhaustion tugged at him, the high of their sex and the crash of her rejection pulling him under. He crawled to his bed, collapsing onto the sheets, and let sleep claim him—dreams swirling with her taste, her touch, her trembling form beneath him.
Across the hall, Arpita was a wreck. Alone in her locked room, she curled into herself, the reality of what she’d done with Rupesh sinking its claws deep. Powerless, broken, she sobbed into her pillow—tears soaking the fabric as guilt gnawed at her soul. She’d cheated on her husband, crossed a line she couldn’t un-cross, and the weight of it crushed her. It had started innocently enough—showing off her assets to cheer Rupesh up, teasing him with glimpses of her breasts, her hips, her allure. A harmless game to make him smile. She’d never meant for it to spiral into this—sex with her own brother, a sin so unthinkable it left her reeling. But God, when she remembered it—his cock sliding into her, filling her, fucking her with a passion she’d never known—the sensation overwhelmed her mind, drowning out the shame with a flood of raw, visceral heat.
Her body still hummed with it—his hands on her breasts, squeezing with a strength that bordered on worship; his mouth devouring her pussy, sucking her clit until she’d shattered; his shaft pumping inside her, claiming her in ways her husband never had. Rupesh had looked at her body like it was a masterpiece—eyes dark with lust, tracing every curve—and it made her realize the power she held, the effect she could have on men. It was a pleasure she’d never tasted before, a revelation carved in the strength of his touch, the fervor of his thrusts. Her husband’s sex—stiff, routine, perfunctory—paled to this. Rupesh had loved her body, worshipped it, shown her a way of fucking that was wild, joyful, alive. Her pussy, a part of her she’d barely understood, had erupted with pleasure she didn’t know it could give—waves of ecstasy crashing through her, orchestrated by her brother’s relentless passion.
She wanted to hate him—God, she tried. She wanted to curse him for igniting this fire, for pulling her into this abyss. The sex had been so good—too good—her mind drifting back to him unbidden, replaying every thrust, every squeeze, every shuddering climax. Her skin prickled at the memory, nipples hardening beneath her t-shirt, pussy tingling with an echo of his cum still inside her. She despised herself for it—for not being strong enough to stop him, to stop herself. Her hands clenched the sheets, nails digging in as she imagined the fallout—if their parents found out, if her husband knew—the family would fracture, her life would collapse. She hated Rupesh for starting it, for planting the seed that had bloomed into this chaos. But beneath the hate, beneath the guilt, her body ached for him—a traitor’s longing she couldn’t silence.
Tears streamed down her face, hot and endless, as she cried helplessly—lost, torn, unable to untangle the mess of desire and dread. Her sobs grew ragged, chest heaving, throat raw from the silent screams she couldn’t release. The exhaustion hit hard—the sex, the crying, the war inside her draining every ounce of strength. She collapsed fully onto the bed, face buried in the damp pillow, body limp and spent—her pussy still faintly pulsing, a cruel reminder of their sin. Darkness crept in, merciful and heavy, and she passed out—tears drying on her cheeks, dreams flickering with Rupesh’s hands, his heat, the pleasure she couldn’t unlearn.
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