Behenchod: My sister, my lover(Brother-sister)

[Mohit.Kumar]

Rupa's eyes fluttered open once more, and she tried to sit up, the haze of sleep and alcohol slowly lifting. Her movements were clumsy and uncoordinated, but the two men were quick to assist, easing her into a sitting position. They helped her off the bed and onto a chair, the coolness of the leather against her skin sending a shiver down her spine. Her breasts swayed with the movement, her nipples peaked and sensitive from their attentions.
 
Salim and Ali held her firmly, their strong arms a reassuring presence as the room spun gently around her. The whisky had left a warm trail of sensation in its wake, and she felt a growing wetness between her legs, an insistent throb that demanded attention. Her eyes focused on the two of them, their expressions a blend of lust and concern that only added to her confusion.
 
"K...Kyun?" she slurred, her voice barely a whisper as she tried to piece together the events that had transpired. Her cheeks flushed a deep red, the realization of her nudity and their touch sinking in.
 
Salim and Ali exchanged a look, the excitement in their eyes unmistakable. "Chill, baby," Salim said, his voice soothing and tender. "We're just taking care of you." He gently pushed her shoulders back, guiding her to lean against the chair's headrest.
 
Rupa's eyes searched the room, her thoughts jumbled. The last thing she remembered was being fucked by her brother Sharan. The room felt unfamiliar, the bed too soft, the scent of not his. Yet, the comfort in Salim's touch and the familiar way Ali held her hand was a balm to her disorientation. Her mind clung to the belief that it was all a drunken dream, that Sharan had simply brought her to this hotel room to keep her safe.
 
As the whisky's warmth spread through her, she felt a comforting hand guide her head back to rest on the chair, and she allowed it. Her mind swirled with confusion, but the touches, oh, the touches, they were so familiar. The way one hand cupped her cheek, the gentle pressure of a thumb on her bottom lip, the other hand sliding down her body, teasing her still-sensitive breasts, it was all Sharan. Or was it?
 
The hand between her legs grew bolder, the rhythm of the fingers increasing, and she moaned softly, her body responding to the dual sensations of the whisky and the caress. Two sets of eyes bore into her, yet she saw only one face, the face of the man she had desired for so long. She let her eyes flutter closed once more, giving in to the illusion that it was Sharan touching her, Sharan bringing her closer to the precipice of pleasure.
 
Her mind was a haze of desire and confusion, her thoughts muddled by the alcohol. Yet, the sensations were so real, so potent that she could almost convince herself that it was indeed her brother's hand that was bringing her body to life, his lips that kissed a fiery path down her neck, his tongue that laved her hardened nipples. She arched her back, pushing her breasts further into the warmth of his mouth, her hips grinding against the hand that worked her sex with an expertise she had never felt from Sharan.
 
Ali noticed her response, the way her body melted into their touch like warm wax, and he knew they had her exactly where they wanted her. With a wicked grin, he grabbed the bottle of whisky and tilted it towards her, whispering, "Come on, baby, take a little more, let it loosen your pretty little pussy."