Adultery Neighbour sisters use me to fuck

[Haran000]

Four years had slipped by since I left home for university, a lifetime away from my tuition days, and yet, a single thought had started to take root, blossoming into a quiet desire: Nisha. She wasn't married. The news of my eighteen-lakh campus placement was exhilarating, but it was this unspoken knowledge about Nisha that truly fueled my journey home.


I pulled out my phone, her number a familiar pattern in my memory. The dial tone rang, and then, her voice.

"Hello?" Nisha's voice was soft, a little surprised.

"Nisha, I got a job." My words tumbled out, eager to share the news.

"Oh, that's wonderful news, congratulations!" Her genuine warmth enveloped me, and a smile touched my lips.

"Thanks, Nisha. I'm coming home. You're there, right?"

The line went dead. I tried again, but she cut the call. 

A pang of confusion, then a shrug. "Well, I'm going home anyway."

The train carriage hummed with a rhythm that mirrored the excited thrum in my chest. 

As I reached home, the aroma of my mother's cooking embraced me as I stepped through the door. My parents' beaming faces, the familiar comfort of home – it was everything I'd imagined. We talked for hours, catching up on four years of life, before settling down for dinner. Just as we finished, the doorbell chimed.

Asha stood there, her radiant smile unchanged, holding the hand of a small boy. Nikhil. He was five, fair, and utterly adorable, a miniature version of Asha. I scooped him up, a spontaneous kiss on his cheek.

"Are you Shiva Babai?" His innocent question, the word "Babai" – made me laugh. Perhaps Asha had coached him, thinking he might call me "Annayya," older brother.

"Hmm... it's me."

"My Nisha pinni gave you tuition, right?" How sweetly he referred to Nisha as "maternal aunt" and me as "Babai," her husband. A strange warmth bloomed in my chest; I found I rather liked it.

"Hmm, yes. Why didn't your aunt come then?"

"She's in her room."

"Hmm..." I pulled out the chocolate I'd bought earlier and offered it to him. He thanked me politely and scampered off to his mother. My gaze lingered on Asha. Memories, vivid and visceral, of our past intimacy flooded my mind. She was still the same, untouched by time.

Two hours later, a compelling urge drew me to Nisha's house. As I approached, Asha, seeing me, quickly ushered Nikhil inside.

Nisha's room was quiet, subdued. She sat on the bed, her back to me, a stillness about her. I walked over and sat beside her, the air thick with unspoken history. Reaching out, I gently took her hand and pulled her closer. She offered no resistance, no words.
"Thanks, teacher." The words slipped out, a familiar tease.

A sharp sting on my cheek. She had slapped me. "How many times have I told you not to call me teacher?" she demanded, finally turning to face me, her eyes flashing.

"Haha, okay, I was just joking." I rubbed my cheek, a smile playing on my lips.

Her gaze softened, scanning me from head to toe. "You look good, you've grown much taller."

"Hmm... but you're still short."

"Hmm..." A shy smile touched her lips, a flicker of the old Nisha.

"That's grown too." My eyes dropped meaningfully.

"Go away, rascal!" She pushed my arm playfully.

"Oh, you saw it back then, what's new now?"

"That was different." Her voice was barely a whisper.

I turned her face towards me, my eyes meeting hers. My thumb traced the curve of her rose lips, a gentle caress. "I missed these lips so much."

"Mmm... Is that why you came?" Her question held a hint of amusement.

"Hmm..." I leaned in, my breath mingling with hers. Slowly, I bent my neck, my lips finding her upper lip. She held my head, surrendering her mouth to mine. Our kiss deepened, a passionate rediscovery.

"Let's get married," I murmured, a playful tease on my tongue.

The sharp sting returned, harder this time. "Go... Is this why you came? You'll ask the same thing again. What does it matter to you if I'm married or not? Go away from here, rascal." 

Her sudden outburst was jarring, her anger incomprehensible. The mention of marriage, and she transformed.

I tried to pacify her, to bridge the sudden chasm that had opened between us. I wrapped my arm around her waist, a light laugh escaping my lips as I drew her closer. "Show me your waist."

"What do I show you? Go away." Her voice was sharp.

"Why are you like this, Nisha?"

"I told you to go, just go."

"Seriously, let's get married. I even have a job."

She gripped my shirt, pulling me close, her eyes blazing. "I'm older than you, it's not possible."

"It's nothing, I'll convince my parents."

"You'll find someone better than me.”

"I only want you."

"Don't you understand when I tell you? What good will marrying me do for you? Marriage isn't just about having sex."

"I don't know all that, Nisha. I want you."

With a sudden burst of anger, she grabbed my collar, pushed me out of the room, and slammed the door shut. Nikhil, who had evidently been watching, looked at me, bewildered. I stood there, rooted to the spot, unsure how to react.

"You're our Babai, right? Why is pinni telling you to leave?" His innocent question cut through my confusion. Did he really think I am Nisha’s husband?

"Who told you I'm Babai?"

" Nisha pinni did."

Just then, Asha rushed over and quickly covered Nikhil's mouth. My eyes met hers, and I saw tears glistening.

"What happened, Asha? Why are you doing that?"

She led Nikhil into the room and closed the door. "Go away." Her voice was choked.

"Why, Asha? He's calling me Babai. Why did Nisha say that? Why isn't Nisha married?" 

The questions poured out, a torrent of confusion and frustration.

"She won't get married." Asha's voice was barely a  trembling whisper.

"Why?"

"Please go, don't hurt her by asking like this."

Hurt her? I didn't understand. "What did I hurt, Asha? Is it wrong that I like Nisha? It's because I was with her back then that I feel this way."

"Do you even know why she's like that?"

"Whatever the reason, please Asha, you convince Nisha. I'll convince my parents."

"Listen to what I'm saying." Asha's tone was urgent.

"Hmm..."

"Before you came for tuition, my husband found a good match for Nisha. They met during the matchmaking, got to know each other and became close, but when it was time for the wedding, Nisha couldn't hold back the truth I had kept hidden, she told them. You didn't know all this, you were going to college then, right?"

"Oh, yes. So why didn't she get married?"

"Nisha can't have children. She has a problem. She told this directly to the groom. He left her two days before the wedding. His parents made a huge fuss at home, scolding me and my husband for trying to cheat them. They yelled, 'Who would marry a girl who can't have children?' and left. It took Nisha two months to recover from that trauma. She loved that guy very much, she thought he would understand. Later, we found another match, but again, they refused for the same reason. Since then, Nisha doesn't want to get married at all. She used to have feminist thoughts, and then after she met you, she thought of imposing her ideas on you, seeing you as naive and doing whatever she said. But then seeing you look at me like that, out of jealousy, she subdued you and made you do whatever she said. Even then you talked about marriage, that's why she got angry. Now you've grown up, and she can't accept the fact that she can't use you like before, which is why she didn't meet you earlier."

The pieces clicked into place, a devastating picture forming in my mind. "Then why did she tell Nikhil I was Babai?"

"She said that when he saw your photos together and asked who you were, she told him you are her husband."

I turned back to Nisha's door, a newfound understanding surging through me. I knocked. She opened it, her back to me, her shoulders shaking with sobs. I stepped inside, closed the door, and wrapped my arms around her from behind.

"Let go of me." Her voice was muffled.

I kissed her neck, my lips tracing the soft skin. "Why did you say that?"

"What else should I say? I didn't know who else to show."

"Won't you get married?"

"Uh-uh."

"Then let's have sex." The words were out before I could censor them, a desperate attempt to break through her pain.

"I don't want anything, just go away."

"People don't get married if they can't have children?"

"No one is marrying me."

"I'm telling you, I'll marry you."

"No, you'll want children."

"We'll adopt."

"I'm older than you."

I turned her to face me, a gentle smile in my eyes. "You'll say that again. Do you want me or not?"

"I won't suit you, you won't be happy with me."

"Who said I won't suit you? Why won't I be happy? Who is the reason I'm so happy about getting a job right now?"

"Who?"

"You. I got this rank because you taught me tuition."

"Uh..."

"Tell me, isn't this happiness because of you?"

"Hmm."

"Nisha... You're my only girlfriend, I want you."

"That's not going to happen."

"Why? You think about this world, this world ridiculed you for not having children, not me. If you want, not here, let's go to the city. My job is there, no one cares about us there."

"But you'll also want to be a father, right?"

"Just make me Nikhil's Babai, that's enough for me."

She turned fully towards me, tears streaming down her face. I wiped them away, then pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Will you really marry me?" Her voice was a fragile whisper.

"Hmm..."

"Even if I can’t give you children, right?”

"Yes."

"When should we get married?"

"Today, and I want the wedding, sex tonight too."

"I'll marry you only if you stay innocent."

"Okay, teacher."

She playfully slapped my shoulder.

"Oh... sorry."

+

A month later, after returning to the city for work, I tried to convince my family, but their resistance was firm. Undeterred, I took out a loan and bought a flat in the city. Nisha came with me.

At a quiet temple, Asha, her husband, and dear Nikhil stood witness, our impromptu wedding elders. They arranged our simple ceremony, then brought us to our new flat. After they had settled down for the night, Nisha appeared in my room, a glass of milk in a white saree, a picture of shy anticipation. 

I set the glass aside, gently pushed her onto the bed, and, with trembling hands, began to unwrap her saree, revealing her milky beauty. Even though I had seen it many times, tonight, it felt entirely new, mesmerizing. She’s my wife now.

I kissed her neck, her lips, her breasts, then moved between her thighs, pressing mine against hers, rubbing gently.

"Mmmm... No romance?" Her voice was breathless.

"We've done everything else, haven't we?" I whispered, slowly pushing myself inside.

A sharp cry escaped her lips as I pierced her virginity. "Amma..." She wept, tears streaming down her face. I bent down, licking the tears from beneath her eyes, then kissed her lips, tasting the salt and sweetness.

"It hurts."

"Bear it for a little while."

After deflowering her, a profound joy surged within me, a sense of rightness. I slowly adjusted her thighs, beginning to thrust gently, rhythmically.

"Ash..." she moaned.

"I wanted to do you many times."

"Then why didn't you?"

"You didn't ask."

"Ah... do me like you did my sister."

"Sister? You're my wife now, I won't let you sleep."

"Love you..."

"Lust you."

"Stupid."

"You're stupid."

"Hey, can you call a teacher stupid?"

I held her waist, lifting her slightly, pushing deeper with each thrust. "Ah... no... Mmmmm..."

"Mmm... I want it, don't scream."

"Ha..."

Life, as it often does, unfolded in unexpected ways. Asha had a second child, a baby girl, and Nisha and I, without hesitation, adopted her as our daughter.

The first two times we visited Asha's house, my parents' anger still lingered, a palpable tension in the air. But by the third visit, their hearts softened, and they finally accepted us, our unconventional family.

The End