06-03-2025, 12:08 AM
Rupesh’s sobs mingled with hers, a shared symphony of anguish and need echoing across the terrace. Her hands rested on his head, fingers trembling as they brushed his hair—tentative, caught between pushing him away and pulling him closer. He clung to her hips, face pressed against her stomach, tears soaking her t-shirt as he poured out his regret. “I fell in love with you the day I saw you in that pink saree,” he confessed, voice raw and broken, each word a shard of his soul laid bare. “Every time I thought of you in ways I shouldn’t, I cursed myself—told myself it was wrong. But in your room… Arpita, I lost control. Your softness, your body—it overwhelmed me. I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again—never again. Please don’t avoid me after this. I just want us to go back to how we were. Don’t hate me, please.” His breath spilled warm against her stomach, a steady rhythm that seeped through the fabric, stirring a heat she couldn’t quell.
Her pussy trembled at his words—his confession of her beauty, the softness he’d craved—his hands hugging her hips igniting a pulse deep within. The cool breeze swept around them, kissing her bare skin beneath the t-shirt and shorts, teasing her nipples into tight peaks, slipping between her thighs to brush her uncovered folds. She stopped crying, breath steadying, but inside, a war raged—her mind battling to suppress the memories of their forbidden fucking, his mouth on her cunt, his shaft inside her. Her hands moved slowly through his hair, a gentle caress she couldn’t stop, even as she fought the sinful thoughts creeping in—his tongue lapping her clit, his strength pinning her down. His breath warmed her stomach, a tender contrast to the night’s chill, and her body shivered—not from cold, but from the electric pull of him so close.
Rupesh felt it—the faint tremor running through her—and paused, concern cutting through his tears. “Are you okay?” he asked, voice soft as he leaned up from his knees, tilting his head to search her face. Moonlight bathed her—her eyes glistening, lips parted—and she looked down at his voice, but it was as if her ears had gone deaf, her mind shutting down under a tidal wave of carnal desire. His mouth—so close—moved, but she didn’t hear the words. All she saw was that mouth, the one that had pleasured her pussy that afternoon, sucking her dry, driving her to ecstasy. Her knees weakened, drained from crying, from fighting her own demons, and she pulled back—resting her back against the railing wall, needing the solid support to steady her faltering resolve.
Her retreat shifted his grip—his hands sliding from her lower back to her buttocks, palms cupping the soft, plush mounds through her shorts; his head slipping from her stomach to hover over her pelvis. The motion was unintentional, a byproduct of her movement, but it sent a jolt through them both. He adjusted, rising slightly to avoid further awkwardness, his chest brushing her thighs as he straightened. Yet in that split-second shift, his hands felt her—bare beneath the shorts, no panties to shield the tender flesh—and her pussy dripped, sensing his breath so near, so warm against her core. Her body reacted—wetness seeping through the thin fabric, a shiver racing up her spine as the breeze balanced his heat with its relentless chill, teasing her exposed skin into a heightened state of awareness.
She clenched her jaw, fighting to control the surge—determined to flee back to her room, to escape the pull of him before it consumed her again. His hands on her ass, the softness he’d felt, had stirred him—his cock twitching faintly in his shorts, a subtle, involuntary turn-on he couldn’t suppress. Sensing her tension, he moved his head slowly against her stomach, a gentle nuzzle meant to comfort, but it inflamed her instead. Her hands, still in his hair, reacted—pushing his head away with a sudden, desperate shove, breaking the contact. He felt the pressure, the rejection, and pulled back—hands lifting from her buttocks, head retreating, leaving her cold in his absence. The breeze swept in, chilling her where his warmth had been, and her body yearned—ached—to have him back, to reclaim the heat she’d lost.
Her resolve wavered, hands still tangled in his hair, and in a flash of weakness, she pulled him back—hard, sudden, dragging his face down until it landed between the joints of her legs. His hands flew to her thighs, gripping the bare skin as his nose brushed her shorts, catching the faint, intoxicating scent of her pussy juices—rich, familiar, a memory of the afternoon etched into his senses. Instinct took over—his mouth moved, lips parting wide to press against her cunt through the fabric, sucking at the dampness with a hunger he couldn’t leash. His hands pushed her legs apart, thumbs digging into her inner thighs, spreading her open as he devoured her over the shorts—teeth grazing, tongue pressing, pulling as much of her into his mouth as the barrier allowed. “Rupesh!” she gasped, voice a shocked, breathy cry—stunned by the sudden attack, the strength that shattered her fragile control.
Her pussy pulsed beneath his assault, wetness soaking through the shorts, slick and hot against his lips. She’d fought so hard—clenched her mind, her body—but this broke her. His mouth was relentless—wide, greedy, sucking her cunt with a force that sent tremors racing through her core. Her hands tightened in his hair, torn between pushing him off and pulling him deeper, her thighs quivering as the breeze kissed her exposed skin, amplifying every sensation. His nose pressed against her clit through the fabric, inhaling her arousal—a scent that drove him wild—while his tongue worked, lapping at the dampness, tasting her through the thin layer. Her shorts clung to her folds, outlining them for his mouth, and he groaned against her—a low, primal sound that vibrated into her flesh, igniting a fire she couldn’t douse.
She stood there, pinned against the railing, legs spread by his hands, his face buried between her thighs—moonlight spilling over them, casting their sin in silver. Her t-shirt rode up slightly, baring her stomach to the cool air, her nipples aching beneath the fabric as her body arched, reacting to his relentless hunger. Every suck, every press of his lips sent a jolt through her—her pussy clenching, dripping, yearning for more despite her shock, despite her guilt. She couldn’t think—couldn’t fight—the strength of his desire overwhelming her, dragging her back into the abyss she’d sworn to escape, her voice lost in a sea of trembling breaths under the night sky.
Rupesh’s mouth devoured her pussy through the thin shorts, lips wide and ravenous, sucking at the damp fabric with a hunger that bordered on worship. His hands roamed her buttocks, rolling the soft, plush mounds in his palms—fingers kneading, squeezing, lifting her flesh as if to claim every inch. Arpita’s body responded before her mind could catch up—her pelvis thrusting forward, pressing her mound harder into his mouth, a silent plea for more. He felt her movement, the subtle grind of her hips, and intensified his assault—tongue pressing through the shorts, tracing her slit, tasting the faint tang of her juices seeping through. His head tilted upward, eyes darting to her face—her eyes were closed, lashes trembling, lips twitching in strange, silent shapes—confirmation that she wanted this as badly as he did. Emboldened, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her shorts and yanked them down—baring her completely—and she didn’t resist, didn’t flinch, just let them pool at her ankles under the silver moonlight.
Her bare cunt glistened before him—pink, puffy, dripping with arousal—and he dove in, mouth sealing over her with a voracious greed. His lips enveloped her outer labia, sucking gently at first, pulling the swollen folds into his wet heat, drinking the flood of juices that coated his tongue—a rich, musky sweetness that drove him wild. He groaned against her, the vibration humming into her core, and she shivered, thighs quaking as he worked. His tongue flicked out, tracing the edges of her outer lips—long, slow laps that teased the sensitive skin, mapping every curve with meticulous care. He parted her with his thumbs, spreading her wider, exposing her inner labia—delicate, glistening petals that begged for his attention. He kissed them tenderly, lips brushing the tender flesh, then sucked them into his mouth—pulling, tugging, savoring their softness as her juices flowed faster, slicking his chin.
Noticing her pelvis rocking, he shifted—tongue flattening against her slit, dragging upward in a broad, firm stroke from her entrance to her clit, flipping it at the end with a quick, playful flick that made an audible, wet smack against her juices. The sound—lewd, primal—sent a shiver racing up her spine, snapping her eyes open. She looked down, breath hitching as she watched him—his face buried between her thighs, tongue dancing over her pussy, eyes dark with devotion. He caught her gaze and doubled down—lips locking onto her clit, sucking the swollen nub into his mouth with a gentle, pulsing pressure. He rolled it between his lips, tongue swirling around it in tight, wet circles—clockwise, then counter—varying the rhythm to keep her trembling. Her clit pulsed under his touch, engorged and slick, and he teased it further—flicking it side to side with the tip of his tongue, fast and light, then pressing down hard, flattening it against her pubic bone to grind out a deeper, slower pleasure.
She wanted this—needed it—every ounce of this forbidden bliss she could wring from him. Her hands tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him deeper as he explored her pussy with an artist’s precision. He pulled back from her clit, lips trailing down to her inner labia again—sucking each fold in turn, nibbling gently with his teeth, a graze that blurred pain into pleasure. His tongue darted to her entrance, circling the tight, dripping hole—slow, deliberate laps that traced the rim, tasting her essence fresh from the source. Then he plunged in—tongue stiffening, thrusting inside her as deep as he could reach, curling upward on the way out to drag against her inner walls. Her pussy clenched around him, a greedy pull that made him groan, the sound reverberating into her core as he fucked her with his tongue—slow, then fast, mimicking the rhythm of his earlier thrusts.
Arpita’s mind reeled—she was addicted, helplessly hooked on this pleasure, a realization that hit her like a tidal wave. Her husband had never touched her like this—never unlocked the raw, shuddering ecstasy Rupesh drew from her pussy with such effortless skill. The truth stung: only her little brother could give her this, could feast on her cunt with a hunger that left her trembling, undone. She wondered—half-dazed, half-aching—how he was so good at this art of lovemaking, this exquisite dance of lips and tongue that rewrote her body’s language. She’d fallen in love with it—uncontrollably, irrevocably—craving the forbidden high only he could deliver. For the first time, she cursed the gods, a bitter whisper in her soul: why had they made Rupesh her brother? Why was this so good—too good? Why was she addicted to his touch, his taste, the way he worshipped her?
He shifted again, lips returning to her clit—sucking it hard now, building a fierce vacuum that made her thighs quake. His tongue played a symphony—flicking the tip of her nub in rapid bursts, then flattening to lap at it broadly, then circling it with a slow, sensual drag. He nibbled it lightly—teeth grazing just enough to spark a jolt—before soothing it with a long, wet lick. His hands kneaded her buttocks, lifting her higher, angling her pussy into his mouth—fingers slipping into the crease, brushing the sensitive skin near her entrance as he sucked. He darted lower, tongue sweeping her perineum—a featherlight tease that made her gasp—then back to her hole, plunging in deep, curling to stroke her G-spot from within while his nose pressed her clit, inhaling her scent with every thrust.
The pleasure built—relentless, overwhelming—her pussy pulsing, juices flowing freely into his mouth as he drank her down. She couldn’t fight it—didn’t want to—her body surrendering to the tidal wave he unleashed. Her orgasm hit, a shattering crescendo that arched her back against the railing, hips bucking into his face as she came—hard, wet, a flood of cum coating his tongue. She clamped her mouth shut, stifling the moan that clawed at her throat—teeth sinking into her lip to keep it quiet, a muffled whimper escaping as her body shook. Her pussy clenched around his tongue, spasming with each wave, and he kept sucking—lapping her through it, drawing out every shudder, every drop, until she sagged against the railing, breathless and spent under the moon’s unblinking gaze.
Her hands loosened in his hair, trembling as she rode the aftershocks—her clit throbbing, her pussy dripping, her mind a haze of bliss and guilt. She’d wanted it—craved it—and now she knew: she was lost to this, to him, a prisoner of the pleasure only her brother could give.
Her pussy trembled at his words—his confession of her beauty, the softness he’d craved—his hands hugging her hips igniting a pulse deep within. The cool breeze swept around them, kissing her bare skin beneath the t-shirt and shorts, teasing her nipples into tight peaks, slipping between her thighs to brush her uncovered folds. She stopped crying, breath steadying, but inside, a war raged—her mind battling to suppress the memories of their forbidden fucking, his mouth on her cunt, his shaft inside her. Her hands moved slowly through his hair, a gentle caress she couldn’t stop, even as she fought the sinful thoughts creeping in—his tongue lapping her clit, his strength pinning her down. His breath warmed her stomach, a tender contrast to the night’s chill, and her body shivered—not from cold, but from the electric pull of him so close.
Rupesh felt it—the faint tremor running through her—and paused, concern cutting through his tears. “Are you okay?” he asked, voice soft as he leaned up from his knees, tilting his head to search her face. Moonlight bathed her—her eyes glistening, lips parted—and she looked down at his voice, but it was as if her ears had gone deaf, her mind shutting down under a tidal wave of carnal desire. His mouth—so close—moved, but she didn’t hear the words. All she saw was that mouth, the one that had pleasured her pussy that afternoon, sucking her dry, driving her to ecstasy. Her knees weakened, drained from crying, from fighting her own demons, and she pulled back—resting her back against the railing wall, needing the solid support to steady her faltering resolve.
Her retreat shifted his grip—his hands sliding from her lower back to her buttocks, palms cupping the soft, plush mounds through her shorts; his head slipping from her stomach to hover over her pelvis. The motion was unintentional, a byproduct of her movement, but it sent a jolt through them both. He adjusted, rising slightly to avoid further awkwardness, his chest brushing her thighs as he straightened. Yet in that split-second shift, his hands felt her—bare beneath the shorts, no panties to shield the tender flesh—and her pussy dripped, sensing his breath so near, so warm against her core. Her body reacted—wetness seeping through the thin fabric, a shiver racing up her spine as the breeze balanced his heat with its relentless chill, teasing her exposed skin into a heightened state of awareness.
She clenched her jaw, fighting to control the surge—determined to flee back to her room, to escape the pull of him before it consumed her again. His hands on her ass, the softness he’d felt, had stirred him—his cock twitching faintly in his shorts, a subtle, involuntary turn-on he couldn’t suppress. Sensing her tension, he moved his head slowly against her stomach, a gentle nuzzle meant to comfort, but it inflamed her instead. Her hands, still in his hair, reacted—pushing his head away with a sudden, desperate shove, breaking the contact. He felt the pressure, the rejection, and pulled back—hands lifting from her buttocks, head retreating, leaving her cold in his absence. The breeze swept in, chilling her where his warmth had been, and her body yearned—ached—to have him back, to reclaim the heat she’d lost.
Her resolve wavered, hands still tangled in his hair, and in a flash of weakness, she pulled him back—hard, sudden, dragging his face down until it landed between the joints of her legs. His hands flew to her thighs, gripping the bare skin as his nose brushed her shorts, catching the faint, intoxicating scent of her pussy juices—rich, familiar, a memory of the afternoon etched into his senses. Instinct took over—his mouth moved, lips parting wide to press against her cunt through the fabric, sucking at the dampness with a hunger he couldn’t leash. His hands pushed her legs apart, thumbs digging into her inner thighs, spreading her open as he devoured her over the shorts—teeth grazing, tongue pressing, pulling as much of her into his mouth as the barrier allowed. “Rupesh!” she gasped, voice a shocked, breathy cry—stunned by the sudden attack, the strength that shattered her fragile control.
Her pussy pulsed beneath his assault, wetness soaking through the shorts, slick and hot against his lips. She’d fought so hard—clenched her mind, her body—but this broke her. His mouth was relentless—wide, greedy, sucking her cunt with a force that sent tremors racing through her core. Her hands tightened in his hair, torn between pushing him off and pulling him deeper, her thighs quivering as the breeze kissed her exposed skin, amplifying every sensation. His nose pressed against her clit through the fabric, inhaling her arousal—a scent that drove him wild—while his tongue worked, lapping at the dampness, tasting her through the thin layer. Her shorts clung to her folds, outlining them for his mouth, and he groaned against her—a low, primal sound that vibrated into her flesh, igniting a fire she couldn’t douse.
She stood there, pinned against the railing, legs spread by his hands, his face buried between her thighs—moonlight spilling over them, casting their sin in silver. Her t-shirt rode up slightly, baring her stomach to the cool air, her nipples aching beneath the fabric as her body arched, reacting to his relentless hunger. Every suck, every press of his lips sent a jolt through her—her pussy clenching, dripping, yearning for more despite her shock, despite her guilt. She couldn’t think—couldn’t fight—the strength of his desire overwhelming her, dragging her back into the abyss she’d sworn to escape, her voice lost in a sea of trembling breaths under the night sky.
Rupesh’s mouth devoured her pussy through the thin shorts, lips wide and ravenous, sucking at the damp fabric with a hunger that bordered on worship. His hands roamed her buttocks, rolling the soft, plush mounds in his palms—fingers kneading, squeezing, lifting her flesh as if to claim every inch. Arpita’s body responded before her mind could catch up—her pelvis thrusting forward, pressing her mound harder into his mouth, a silent plea for more. He felt her movement, the subtle grind of her hips, and intensified his assault—tongue pressing through the shorts, tracing her slit, tasting the faint tang of her juices seeping through. His head tilted upward, eyes darting to her face—her eyes were closed, lashes trembling, lips twitching in strange, silent shapes—confirmation that she wanted this as badly as he did. Emboldened, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her shorts and yanked them down—baring her completely—and she didn’t resist, didn’t flinch, just let them pool at her ankles under the silver moonlight.
Her bare cunt glistened before him—pink, puffy, dripping with arousal—and he dove in, mouth sealing over her with a voracious greed. His lips enveloped her outer labia, sucking gently at first, pulling the swollen folds into his wet heat, drinking the flood of juices that coated his tongue—a rich, musky sweetness that drove him wild. He groaned against her, the vibration humming into her core, and she shivered, thighs quaking as he worked. His tongue flicked out, tracing the edges of her outer lips—long, slow laps that teased the sensitive skin, mapping every curve with meticulous care. He parted her with his thumbs, spreading her wider, exposing her inner labia—delicate, glistening petals that begged for his attention. He kissed them tenderly, lips brushing the tender flesh, then sucked them into his mouth—pulling, tugging, savoring their softness as her juices flowed faster, slicking his chin.
Noticing her pelvis rocking, he shifted—tongue flattening against her slit, dragging upward in a broad, firm stroke from her entrance to her clit, flipping it at the end with a quick, playful flick that made an audible, wet smack against her juices. The sound—lewd, primal—sent a shiver racing up her spine, snapping her eyes open. She looked down, breath hitching as she watched him—his face buried between her thighs, tongue dancing over her pussy, eyes dark with devotion. He caught her gaze and doubled down—lips locking onto her clit, sucking the swollen nub into his mouth with a gentle, pulsing pressure. He rolled it between his lips, tongue swirling around it in tight, wet circles—clockwise, then counter—varying the rhythm to keep her trembling. Her clit pulsed under his touch, engorged and slick, and he teased it further—flicking it side to side with the tip of his tongue, fast and light, then pressing down hard, flattening it against her pubic bone to grind out a deeper, slower pleasure.
She wanted this—needed it—every ounce of this forbidden bliss she could wring from him. Her hands tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him deeper as he explored her pussy with an artist’s precision. He pulled back from her clit, lips trailing down to her inner labia again—sucking each fold in turn, nibbling gently with his teeth, a graze that blurred pain into pleasure. His tongue darted to her entrance, circling the tight, dripping hole—slow, deliberate laps that traced the rim, tasting her essence fresh from the source. Then he plunged in—tongue stiffening, thrusting inside her as deep as he could reach, curling upward on the way out to drag against her inner walls. Her pussy clenched around him, a greedy pull that made him groan, the sound reverberating into her core as he fucked her with his tongue—slow, then fast, mimicking the rhythm of his earlier thrusts.
Arpita’s mind reeled—she was addicted, helplessly hooked on this pleasure, a realization that hit her like a tidal wave. Her husband had never touched her like this—never unlocked the raw, shuddering ecstasy Rupesh drew from her pussy with such effortless skill. The truth stung: only her little brother could give her this, could feast on her cunt with a hunger that left her trembling, undone. She wondered—half-dazed, half-aching—how he was so good at this art of lovemaking, this exquisite dance of lips and tongue that rewrote her body’s language. She’d fallen in love with it—uncontrollably, irrevocably—craving the forbidden high only he could deliver. For the first time, she cursed the gods, a bitter whisper in her soul: why had they made Rupesh her brother? Why was this so good—too good? Why was she addicted to his touch, his taste, the way he worshipped her?
He shifted again, lips returning to her clit—sucking it hard now, building a fierce vacuum that made her thighs quake. His tongue played a symphony—flicking the tip of her nub in rapid bursts, then flattening to lap at it broadly, then circling it with a slow, sensual drag. He nibbled it lightly—teeth grazing just enough to spark a jolt—before soothing it with a long, wet lick. His hands kneaded her buttocks, lifting her higher, angling her pussy into his mouth—fingers slipping into the crease, brushing the sensitive skin near her entrance as he sucked. He darted lower, tongue sweeping her perineum—a featherlight tease that made her gasp—then back to her hole, plunging in deep, curling to stroke her G-spot from within while his nose pressed her clit, inhaling her scent with every thrust.
The pleasure built—relentless, overwhelming—her pussy pulsing, juices flowing freely into his mouth as he drank her down. She couldn’t fight it—didn’t want to—her body surrendering to the tidal wave he unleashed. Her orgasm hit, a shattering crescendo that arched her back against the railing, hips bucking into his face as she came—hard, wet, a flood of cum coating his tongue. She clamped her mouth shut, stifling the moan that clawed at her throat—teeth sinking into her lip to keep it quiet, a muffled whimper escaping as her body shook. Her pussy clenched around his tongue, spasming with each wave, and he kept sucking—lapping her through it, drawing out every shudder, every drop, until she sagged against the railing, breathless and spent under the moon’s unblinking gaze.
Her hands loosened in his hair, trembling as she rode the aftershocks—her clit throbbing, her pussy dripping, her mind a haze of bliss and guilt. She’d wanted it—craved it—and now she knew: she was lost to this, to him, a prisoner of the pleasure only her brother could give.
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