05-03-2025, 11:52 PM
The clock struck six, shadows lengthening across the house as a soft knock rapped on Rupesh’s door. He stirred from his fitful nap, the remnants of Arpita’s tears and his own ecstasy still swirling in his mind. “Uncle, park chalo!” Yuvan’s voice chirped through the wood, bright and insistent. Rupesh groaned, dragging himself upright—his body heavy, mind foggy from the whirlwind of their afternoon. He stumbled to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face, the shock of it jolting him awake. His reflection stared back—eyes shadowed, lips still tingling with the ghost of her taste. He shook it off, forcing a smile as he opened the door to his nephew’s eager grin. “Alright, beta, let’s go,” he said, voice rough but warm, ruffling the kid’s hair as they headed downstairs.
His parents were in the living room, coats on, ready to join Yuvan at the park. His mother glanced up, concern creasing her brow. “Arpita’s not well—still in her room with a headache. Could you grab some tablets from the pharmacy on your way back?” she asked, handing him a few crumpled notes. Rupesh nodded, chest tightening at her name—a flicker of her trembling form flashing through his mind—but he masked it with a curt, “Sure, Ma.” He let Yuvan skip off with his grandparents, their chatter fading down the street, then turned toward the pharmacy, the errand a welcome distraction from the chaos inside him. The evening air was cool, brushing his skin as he walked, but it couldn’t cool the heat still simmering in his veins—her pussy, her moans, her cum-soaked surrender replaying in an endless, erotic loop.
At the pharmacy, he grabbed the headache pills, the clerk’s casual chatter a dull hum against his thoughts. He paid and headed back, the small packet crinkling in his hand as he climbed the stairs to Arpita’s room. His knuckles hesitated at her door—heart thudding, a mix of dread and longing twisting his gut—before tapping softly. The lock clicked, and the door swung open, revealing her. Arpita stood there, still in her pajamas and t-shirt, hair mussed, eyes red-rimmed from crying. The sight of him hit her like a lightning bolt—her face blanching, lips parting in a silent gasp of shock. She thought he’d come for more—to fuck her again, to pull her back into that abyss—and panic flared. “It was a mistake,” she blurted, voice sharp and trembling. “Please, leave me.”
Her words cut deeper than he’d expected, a reprimand laced with accusation. “You forced me into it,” she snapped, her gaze hard but shimmering with unshed tears. The sting of it—her blaming him—pricked his eyes, and he blinked back the burn, swallowing hard. “No, I—” he started, voice cracking, but she didn’t let him finish. He thrust the tablets forward, hands shaking slightly. “Ma asked me to get these for your headache,” he explained, soft and earnest, tears glistening as he met her stare. She froze, the fight draining from her as she registered the truth—his errand, not his intent. Her fingers brushed his as she took the pills, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver racing up his spine, reigniting the memory of her skin under his. Without a word, she stepped back and shut the door—firm, final—leaving him staring at the wood, chest hollow and aching.
Dinner came hours later, the family gathered around the table—plates clinking, voices murmuring, a facade of normalcy that felt brittle to Rupesh. Arpita emerged, pale and subdued, her saree dbangd modestly now, masking the body he’d worshipped. Their parents fussed over her. “Are you okay, beti?” her mother asked, brow furrowed. “Just a headache and body pain,” Arpita murmured, voice flat, eyes fixed on her plate. Her father leaned in, concern deepening. “Should I take you to the hospital?” She shook her head quickly. “No, Papa—I’ll be fine by morning.” Her tone was dismissive, a lie wrapped in exhaustion, and Rupesh’s stomach twisted—he knew the real ache, the one she couldn’t name.
He avoided her gaze, focusing on his food—rice, dal, anything to keep his eyes from drifting to her. Every glance risked betrayal, risked sparking those memories—her breasts in his mouth, her pussy pulsing under his tongue. He chewed mechanically, jaw tight, willing his mind to stay blank. Arpita mirrored him, acting as if he didn’t exist—her movements deliberate, her silence a wall. But inside, she was ablaze. His presence, just across the table, stirred her—a phantom heat licking at her core. She remembered his oral assault—his lips sucking her clit, his tongue burrowing into her, the way he’d devoured her pussy with a hunger that left her shattered. Her thighs pressed together under the table, a futile shield against the flush creeping up her chest, her pussy tingling with the echo of that pleasure. She didn’t show it—face a mask of calm, hands steady as she spooned food—but inside, she burned, flushed with a secret she couldn’t confess.
The meal dragged on, each bite a chore, the air thick with unspoken tension. When it ended, they all dispersed—parents to their room, Yuvan trailing off to sleep, Rupesh and Arpita retreating to their separate sanctuaries. She climbed the stairs first, her saree swishing softly, and he followed at a distance—eyes on the floor, resisting the urge to watch the sway of her hips, the curve of her back he’d gripped so fiercely. She slipped into her room without a glance, the door clicking shut like a guillotine. He entered his own, locking it again, the silence swallowing him whole. Stripping to his shorts, he collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling—her taste still on his tongue, her scent in his nose, her sobs in his ears. Exhaustion tugged, but arousal lingered—a restless, aching thread tying him to her, even now.
Arpita, alone again, shed her saree, slipping back into her pajamas—loose, unassuming, a shield against her own skin. She sank onto the bed, curling into a ball, the day’s weight pressing down. Her pussy still hummed, a faint pulse of memory—his tongue lapping at her, his shaft stretching her, his cum spilling inside. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing it away, but her body betrayed her—nipples hardening against the t-shirt, a damp heat blooming between her thighs. She hated it, hated him, hated herself—but the pleasure clung, a seductive specter she couldn’t banish. Sleep came slow, fitful—dreams flickering with his hands, his heat, the ecstasy she’d never unlearn, leaving her restless and lost in the dark.
His parents were in the living room, coats on, ready to join Yuvan at the park. His mother glanced up, concern creasing her brow. “Arpita’s not well—still in her room with a headache. Could you grab some tablets from the pharmacy on your way back?” she asked, handing him a few crumpled notes. Rupesh nodded, chest tightening at her name—a flicker of her trembling form flashing through his mind—but he masked it with a curt, “Sure, Ma.” He let Yuvan skip off with his grandparents, their chatter fading down the street, then turned toward the pharmacy, the errand a welcome distraction from the chaos inside him. The evening air was cool, brushing his skin as he walked, but it couldn’t cool the heat still simmering in his veins—her pussy, her moans, her cum-soaked surrender replaying in an endless, erotic loop.
At the pharmacy, he grabbed the headache pills, the clerk’s casual chatter a dull hum against his thoughts. He paid and headed back, the small packet crinkling in his hand as he climbed the stairs to Arpita’s room. His knuckles hesitated at her door—heart thudding, a mix of dread and longing twisting his gut—before tapping softly. The lock clicked, and the door swung open, revealing her. Arpita stood there, still in her pajamas and t-shirt, hair mussed, eyes red-rimmed from crying. The sight of him hit her like a lightning bolt—her face blanching, lips parting in a silent gasp of shock. She thought he’d come for more—to fuck her again, to pull her back into that abyss—and panic flared. “It was a mistake,” she blurted, voice sharp and trembling. “Please, leave me.”
Her words cut deeper than he’d expected, a reprimand laced with accusation. “You forced me into it,” she snapped, her gaze hard but shimmering with unshed tears. The sting of it—her blaming him—pricked his eyes, and he blinked back the burn, swallowing hard. “No, I—” he started, voice cracking, but she didn’t let him finish. He thrust the tablets forward, hands shaking slightly. “Ma asked me to get these for your headache,” he explained, soft and earnest, tears glistening as he met her stare. She froze, the fight draining from her as she registered the truth—his errand, not his intent. Her fingers brushed his as she took the pills, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver racing up his spine, reigniting the memory of her skin under his. Without a word, she stepped back and shut the door—firm, final—leaving him staring at the wood, chest hollow and aching.
Dinner came hours later, the family gathered around the table—plates clinking, voices murmuring, a facade of normalcy that felt brittle to Rupesh. Arpita emerged, pale and subdued, her saree dbangd modestly now, masking the body he’d worshipped. Their parents fussed over her. “Are you okay, beti?” her mother asked, brow furrowed. “Just a headache and body pain,” Arpita murmured, voice flat, eyes fixed on her plate. Her father leaned in, concern deepening. “Should I take you to the hospital?” She shook her head quickly. “No, Papa—I’ll be fine by morning.” Her tone was dismissive, a lie wrapped in exhaustion, and Rupesh’s stomach twisted—he knew the real ache, the one she couldn’t name.
He avoided her gaze, focusing on his food—rice, dal, anything to keep his eyes from drifting to her. Every glance risked betrayal, risked sparking those memories—her breasts in his mouth, her pussy pulsing under his tongue. He chewed mechanically, jaw tight, willing his mind to stay blank. Arpita mirrored him, acting as if he didn’t exist—her movements deliberate, her silence a wall. But inside, she was ablaze. His presence, just across the table, stirred her—a phantom heat licking at her core. She remembered his oral assault—his lips sucking her clit, his tongue burrowing into her, the way he’d devoured her pussy with a hunger that left her shattered. Her thighs pressed together under the table, a futile shield against the flush creeping up her chest, her pussy tingling with the echo of that pleasure. She didn’t show it—face a mask of calm, hands steady as she spooned food—but inside, she burned, flushed with a secret she couldn’t confess.
The meal dragged on, each bite a chore, the air thick with unspoken tension. When it ended, they all dispersed—parents to their room, Yuvan trailing off to sleep, Rupesh and Arpita retreating to their separate sanctuaries. She climbed the stairs first, her saree swishing softly, and he followed at a distance—eyes on the floor, resisting the urge to watch the sway of her hips, the curve of her back he’d gripped so fiercely. She slipped into her room without a glance, the door clicking shut like a guillotine. He entered his own, locking it again, the silence swallowing him whole. Stripping to his shorts, he collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling—her taste still on his tongue, her scent in his nose, her sobs in his ears. Exhaustion tugged, but arousal lingered—a restless, aching thread tying him to her, even now.
Arpita, alone again, shed her saree, slipping back into her pajamas—loose, unassuming, a shield against her own skin. She sank onto the bed, curling into a ball, the day’s weight pressing down. Her pussy still hummed, a faint pulse of memory—his tongue lapping at her, his shaft stretching her, his cum spilling inside. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing it away, but her body betrayed her—nipples hardening against the t-shirt, a damp heat blooming between her thighs. She hated it, hated him, hated herself—but the pleasure clung, a seductive specter she couldn’t banish. Sleep came slow, fitful—dreams flickering with his hands, his heat, the ecstasy she’d never unlearn, leaving her restless and lost in the dark.
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