02-01-2026, 12:53 PM
Sumu’s hands moved with practiced dominance, sliding from her waist to capture her wrists. He interlaced his fingers with hers, the grip firm and unyielding, and pinned her arms high above her head into the plush pillows. She was completely exposed to him now, her chest heaving, her breasts pressing against his muscular chest with every ragged breath.
He shifted his hips, settling heavily between her splayed thighs. Shweta instinctively bucked upward, seeking the fullness she craved, but Sumu denied her. Instead of thrusting inside, he began a slow, torturous grind. The broad, blunt head of his erection glided through the slick wetness of her nether lips, rubbing directly against her swollen clitoris without breaching the entrance.
"Ohhhhhh..." Shweta broke the kiss with a ragged gasp, her head thrashing to the side.
The sensation was exquisite agony. His hot, iron-hard manhood was right there, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves, coating itself in her juices, but refusing to fill the aching void inside her. He was breathing hard against her open mouth, inhaling her whimpers as he continued the cruel friction—up and down, sliding along the slit, making her writhe.
Shweta couldn't take the torture anymore. The teasing friction was maddening, a promise whispered but not kept. With a sudden, guttural cry of frustration, she planted her palms against Sumu’s chest and shoved him with a strength born of desperation.
Sumu, caught off guard by the feral aggression of his usually timid sister-in-law, tumbled backward. He rolled onto his back, looking up in surprise, but Shweta didn't give him a second to recover. She didn't want space; she needed contact. She needed the searing heat of his naked skin to burn away the last of her inhibitions.
In a fluid motion, she scrambled over him, straddling his waist. Her heavy, unbound hair fell forward like a dark curtain, creating a private, illicit tent that enclosed just their faces. Their breaths, hot and ragged, mingled in the small, enclosed space. Shweta descended upon him, raining kisses over his face—his cheeks, his strong chin, the bridge of his nose—before capturing his lips. She kissed him ravenously, licking and tasting him, her sweet saliva slicking his face.
As she moved, her impressive bosom was pressed flat against him, the soft mounds rubbing against the hard planes of his pectorals. The friction sent jolts of electricity arcing through both their bodies. Sumu groaned, his initial surprise dissolving into lust. One of his large hands wrapped around her waist to anchor her, while the other reached back to grab a handful of her round, firm ass, squeezing the flesh possessively.
Shweta broke the kiss, burying her face in the crook of his neck. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with his scent. It was a heady musk—a mix of male sweat and expensive aftershave. Her hands roamed feverishly over his chest and stomach, nails digging in. The smell was intoxicating, and dangerously different. Ani... Ani mostly smelled of industrial grease and stale sweat after his long shifts at the steel plant. The sudden thought of her husband, sleeping exhausted just rooms away, sent a shiver racking through her body. But it wasn’t a shiver of guilt; it was the dark, vibrating thrill of illicit pleasure.
She raked her long fingernails down Sumu’s chest, leaving angry red trails on his skin. Sumu groaned in pain, a sharp sensation he welcomed as it cut through the haze of lust. Shweta’s mouth found one of his flat nipples. She sucked it into her mouth, her tongue flicking and teasing the nub, while her thumb rubbed circles around the other nipple.
The dual sensation sent a torrent of pleasure through Sumu. He grabbed the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair, urging her to press harder, to take more. But Shweta was on a mission. She trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses down his sternum, licking her way toward his navel. As she lowered herself, her breasts came to rest on his throbbing manhood.
She could feel the radiating heat of him through her soft skin. Instinctively, Sumu bucked his hips upward, rubbing the hard length of his erection between her breasts. Shweta caught the thick, musky scent of his sex before she even reached it. She sat back slightly, grabbing the impressive length of his manhood in her hand.
The visual was stark and depraved. Sumu lay spread-eagled on his bed, completely vulnerable, while his brother’s naked wife sat between his legs, wielding his erection like a scepter. The head of his penis glistened with a pearl of precum. The scent drove Shweta mad. She leaned down, not to take him in yet, but to rub the large, weeping tip against her lips and cheeks. She smeared the clear fluid over her face, marking herself with the forbidden juices of her brother-in-law.
She couldn't wait another second. She opened her mouth and captured the tip. The salty tang of his precum hit her tongue instantly. The incredible thickness stretched her lips wide, filling her completely, but she didn’t mind—she craved the fullness. Slowly, deliberately, she began to take him in.
Sumu fought the urge to close his eyes. He needed to see this. He looked down his own body to witness the ultimate betrayal. Ani’s wife, naked, with his cock buried in her mouth. In the dim light of the room, the red sindoor in the part of her hair seemed to glow like a neon sign of her infidelity. The sight made his penis twitch violently.
Sensing the reaction, Shweta looked up. Their eyes locked. She didn't look away, nor did she stop. With her gaze fixed on his, she relaxed her throat and swallowed him whole, taking the entire length of his large manhood until the tip brushed the back of her throat. The warm, velvety suction of her mouth and the swirl of her tongue were driving Sumu to the brink of insanity.
Ani had always refused to let her do this, pushing her away and calling it dirty. But here, in the shadows of his *Borda’s* room, Shweta was gobbling the forbidden stick of her brother-in-law with an enthusiasm that bordered on worship.
She established a rhythm, bobbing her head up and down, never breaking eye contact. Her left hand gripped the base of his penis to steady it, while her right hand slid down between her own thighs. She found her clitoris, wet and swollen, and began to rub herself furiously, combining the sensation of his cock in her throat with the pleasure of her own touch.
Sumu couldn't take the passive role anymore. He reached down, grabbing her hair and pulling it back sharply to reveal her face fully. He watched, mesmerized, as his brother’s wife pulled his penis out of her mouth with a wet pop. She didn't stop there; she darted her tongue out, licking him slowly from the base all the way to the tip, treating him like a delicious, forbidden treat she intended to devour completely.
Sumu gritted his teeth, his head falling back as the sensation became too intense to bear. The wet heat of her mouth was threatening to push him over the edge far too soon, and he wasn't ready to end this game yet. He needed to reclaim the pace. With a guttural growl, he framed her flushed face between his large hands, halting her rhythmic worship and pulling her upward.
Shweta didn't resist. She uncoiled her body, sliding up his frame like a serpent, seeking every inch of contact she could get. Her breasts, soft and yielding, flattened against his hard, muscular chest, the friction of skin against skin sending sparks through the cool air of the room.
Once they were eye-to-eye, the air thick with the scent of their sin, Shweta didn't wait for him to speak. She crashed her lips against his, driving her tongue deep into his mouth. The flavor hit him instantly—the salty, musky taste of his own essence that coated her tongue. It was a raw, primal claim, forcing him to taste what she had just been devouring.
Far from being repulsed, Sumu groaned, intoxicated by the sheer depravity of it. The realization that this was Ani’s wife, feeding him his own juices while her husband slept a few walls away, spiked his adrenaline. Craving more, he tightened his grip on her jaw, pulling her face harder against his. He sucked on her tongue, drinking down the evidence of her infidelity, dominating the kiss until her knees went weak.
They broke apart only when their lungs burned for air, a silver string of saliva connecting them for a heartbeat before snapping. Shweta lay there, on top of her borda, chest heaving, her eyes glazed with a look of absolute surrender. She looked thoroughly ravished, breathless from the demanding assault on her mouth.
Sumu gave her no time to recover. His hands dropped to her waist, fingers digging into her soft flesh with possessing force. With a sudden, fluid motion, he spun her around and threw her onto the divan. Shweta yelped—a sharp, stifled sound—as her back hit the mattress.
Before she could even adjust, Sumu was over her, a blanket of heavy muscle and heat. He buried her into the sheets, his weight pressing the air from her lungs in the most delicious way. He settled between her splayed thighs, and the hard ridge of his erection—still glistening and rock-hard—pressed urgently against the wet, swollen lips of her vagina. The contact was electric, a promise of the violence to come. Shweta let out a needy, broken whimper, her hips instinctively bucking upward, desperate for the invasion she knew was inevitable.
She lifted her pelvis again, desperate to capture him, to force him inside, but he was too heavy, too strong. He kept her pinned, controlling the pace, controlling her pleasure.
She discarded the last remnants of her shame, her need overriding centuries of tradition and duty. "Borda... please," she begged, her voice a broken sob of desire. "Put it in me... don't make me wait anymore..."
A dark, predatory smile curled Sumu’s lips. The sight of her—his brother’s wife, naked and defenseless, begging for his cock while Ani slept the sleep of the dead merely a few feet above them—sent a surge of power through his veins that was headier than any alcohol.
He lowered his head, his lips brushing against hers, whispering the words like a secret pact. "Tell me what you want, Shweta."
She whimpered, her mind fracturing under the onslaught of sensations—the heat of him, the smell of his musk, the wet friction between her legs. She struggled to form words, her body arching off the mattress, trying to maximize the contact with his hard frame.
"I... I want you to take me, Borda," she managed to gasp out. "Please... ahhh... I can’t take it anymore."
Sumu didn't stop his teasing rhythm, the head of his penis slipping over her clitoris again and again. He looked down into her glazed eyes, his expression intense. "What about Ani, Shweta?"
Her eyes flung open. The mention of her husband’s name was like a splash of ice water, momentarily dragging her back to the reality of her transgression. For a split second, the image of Ani—thin, exhausted, working himself to the bone for her—flashed in her mind. But the phantom weight of her husband’s guilt was nothing compared to the heavy, tangible reality of Sumu pressing her into the mattress. She was too far gone, drowning in a sea of lust she had never known existed.
She looked up at Sumu, her eyes darkening with resolve. "Don't talk about him now, Borda," she panted, her voice trembling but certain. "I am lying naked beneath *you*, not him. You have lit this fire in my body, Borda. You have to finish this."
He shifted his hips, settling heavily between her splayed thighs. Shweta instinctively bucked upward, seeking the fullness she craved, but Sumu denied her. Instead of thrusting inside, he began a slow, torturous grind. The broad, blunt head of his erection glided through the slick wetness of her nether lips, rubbing directly against her swollen clitoris without breaching the entrance.
"Ohhhhhh..." Shweta broke the kiss with a ragged gasp, her head thrashing to the side.
The sensation was exquisite agony. His hot, iron-hard manhood was right there, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves, coating itself in her juices, but refusing to fill the aching void inside her. He was breathing hard against her open mouth, inhaling her whimpers as he continued the cruel friction—up and down, sliding along the slit, making her writhe.
Shweta couldn't take the torture anymore. The teasing friction was maddening, a promise whispered but not kept. With a sudden, guttural cry of frustration, she planted her palms against Sumu’s chest and shoved him with a strength born of desperation.
Sumu, caught off guard by the feral aggression of his usually timid sister-in-law, tumbled backward. He rolled onto his back, looking up in surprise, but Shweta didn't give him a second to recover. She didn't want space; she needed contact. She needed the searing heat of his naked skin to burn away the last of her inhibitions.
In a fluid motion, she scrambled over him, straddling his waist. Her heavy, unbound hair fell forward like a dark curtain, creating a private, illicit tent that enclosed just their faces. Their breaths, hot and ragged, mingled in the small, enclosed space. Shweta descended upon him, raining kisses over his face—his cheeks, his strong chin, the bridge of his nose—before capturing his lips. She kissed him ravenously, licking and tasting him, her sweet saliva slicking his face.
As she moved, her impressive bosom was pressed flat against him, the soft mounds rubbing against the hard planes of his pectorals. The friction sent jolts of electricity arcing through both their bodies. Sumu groaned, his initial surprise dissolving into lust. One of his large hands wrapped around her waist to anchor her, while the other reached back to grab a handful of her round, firm ass, squeezing the flesh possessively.
Shweta broke the kiss, burying her face in the crook of his neck. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with his scent. It was a heady musk—a mix of male sweat and expensive aftershave. Her hands roamed feverishly over his chest and stomach, nails digging in. The smell was intoxicating, and dangerously different. Ani... Ani mostly smelled of industrial grease and stale sweat after his long shifts at the steel plant. The sudden thought of her husband, sleeping exhausted just rooms away, sent a shiver racking through her body. But it wasn’t a shiver of guilt; it was the dark, vibrating thrill of illicit pleasure.
She raked her long fingernails down Sumu’s chest, leaving angry red trails on his skin. Sumu groaned in pain, a sharp sensation he welcomed as it cut through the haze of lust. Shweta’s mouth found one of his flat nipples. She sucked it into her mouth, her tongue flicking and teasing the nub, while her thumb rubbed circles around the other nipple.
The dual sensation sent a torrent of pleasure through Sumu. He grabbed the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair, urging her to press harder, to take more. But Shweta was on a mission. She trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses down his sternum, licking her way toward his navel. As she lowered herself, her breasts came to rest on his throbbing manhood.
She could feel the radiating heat of him through her soft skin. Instinctively, Sumu bucked his hips upward, rubbing the hard length of his erection between her breasts. Shweta caught the thick, musky scent of his sex before she even reached it. She sat back slightly, grabbing the impressive length of his manhood in her hand.
The visual was stark and depraved. Sumu lay spread-eagled on his bed, completely vulnerable, while his brother’s naked wife sat between his legs, wielding his erection like a scepter. The head of his penis glistened with a pearl of precum. The scent drove Shweta mad. She leaned down, not to take him in yet, but to rub the large, weeping tip against her lips and cheeks. She smeared the clear fluid over her face, marking herself with the forbidden juices of her brother-in-law.
She couldn't wait another second. She opened her mouth and captured the tip. The salty tang of his precum hit her tongue instantly. The incredible thickness stretched her lips wide, filling her completely, but she didn’t mind—she craved the fullness. Slowly, deliberately, she began to take him in.
Sumu fought the urge to close his eyes. He needed to see this. He looked down his own body to witness the ultimate betrayal. Ani’s wife, naked, with his cock buried in her mouth. In the dim light of the room, the red sindoor in the part of her hair seemed to glow like a neon sign of her infidelity. The sight made his penis twitch violently.
Sensing the reaction, Shweta looked up. Their eyes locked. She didn't look away, nor did she stop. With her gaze fixed on his, she relaxed her throat and swallowed him whole, taking the entire length of his large manhood until the tip brushed the back of her throat. The warm, velvety suction of her mouth and the swirl of her tongue were driving Sumu to the brink of insanity.
Ani had always refused to let her do this, pushing her away and calling it dirty. But here, in the shadows of his *Borda’s* room, Shweta was gobbling the forbidden stick of her brother-in-law with an enthusiasm that bordered on worship.
She established a rhythm, bobbing her head up and down, never breaking eye contact. Her left hand gripped the base of his penis to steady it, while her right hand slid down between her own thighs. She found her clitoris, wet and swollen, and began to rub herself furiously, combining the sensation of his cock in her throat with the pleasure of her own touch.
Sumu couldn't take the passive role anymore. He reached down, grabbing her hair and pulling it back sharply to reveal her face fully. He watched, mesmerized, as his brother’s wife pulled his penis out of her mouth with a wet pop. She didn't stop there; she darted her tongue out, licking him slowly from the base all the way to the tip, treating him like a delicious, forbidden treat she intended to devour completely.
Sumu gritted his teeth, his head falling back as the sensation became too intense to bear. The wet heat of her mouth was threatening to push him over the edge far too soon, and he wasn't ready to end this game yet. He needed to reclaim the pace. With a guttural growl, he framed her flushed face between his large hands, halting her rhythmic worship and pulling her upward.
Shweta didn't resist. She uncoiled her body, sliding up his frame like a serpent, seeking every inch of contact she could get. Her breasts, soft and yielding, flattened against his hard, muscular chest, the friction of skin against skin sending sparks through the cool air of the room.
Once they were eye-to-eye, the air thick with the scent of their sin, Shweta didn't wait for him to speak. She crashed her lips against his, driving her tongue deep into his mouth. The flavor hit him instantly—the salty, musky taste of his own essence that coated her tongue. It was a raw, primal claim, forcing him to taste what she had just been devouring.
Far from being repulsed, Sumu groaned, intoxicated by the sheer depravity of it. The realization that this was Ani’s wife, feeding him his own juices while her husband slept a few walls away, spiked his adrenaline. Craving more, he tightened his grip on her jaw, pulling her face harder against his. He sucked on her tongue, drinking down the evidence of her infidelity, dominating the kiss until her knees went weak.
They broke apart only when their lungs burned for air, a silver string of saliva connecting them for a heartbeat before snapping. Shweta lay there, on top of her borda, chest heaving, her eyes glazed with a look of absolute surrender. She looked thoroughly ravished, breathless from the demanding assault on her mouth.
Sumu gave her no time to recover. His hands dropped to her waist, fingers digging into her soft flesh with possessing force. With a sudden, fluid motion, he spun her around and threw her onto the divan. Shweta yelped—a sharp, stifled sound—as her back hit the mattress.
Before she could even adjust, Sumu was over her, a blanket of heavy muscle and heat. He buried her into the sheets, his weight pressing the air from her lungs in the most delicious way. He settled between her splayed thighs, and the hard ridge of his erection—still glistening and rock-hard—pressed urgently against the wet, swollen lips of her vagina. The contact was electric, a promise of the violence to come. Shweta let out a needy, broken whimper, her hips instinctively bucking upward, desperate for the invasion she knew was inevitable.
She lifted her pelvis again, desperate to capture him, to force him inside, but he was too heavy, too strong. He kept her pinned, controlling the pace, controlling her pleasure.
She discarded the last remnants of her shame, her need overriding centuries of tradition and duty. "Borda... please," she begged, her voice a broken sob of desire. "Put it in me... don't make me wait anymore..."
A dark, predatory smile curled Sumu’s lips. The sight of her—his brother’s wife, naked and defenseless, begging for his cock while Ani slept the sleep of the dead merely a few feet above them—sent a surge of power through his veins that was headier than any alcohol.
He lowered his head, his lips brushing against hers, whispering the words like a secret pact. "Tell me what you want, Shweta."
She whimpered, her mind fracturing under the onslaught of sensations—the heat of him, the smell of his musk, the wet friction between her legs. She struggled to form words, her body arching off the mattress, trying to maximize the contact with his hard frame.
"I... I want you to take me, Borda," she managed to gasp out. "Please... ahhh... I can’t take it anymore."
Sumu didn't stop his teasing rhythm, the head of his penis slipping over her clitoris again and again. He looked down into her glazed eyes, his expression intense. "What about Ani, Shweta?"
Her eyes flung open. The mention of her husband’s name was like a splash of ice water, momentarily dragging her back to the reality of her transgression. For a split second, the image of Ani—thin, exhausted, working himself to the bone for her—flashed in her mind. But the phantom weight of her husband’s guilt was nothing compared to the heavy, tangible reality of Sumu pressing her into the mattress. She was too far gone, drowning in a sea of lust she had never known existed.
She looked up at Sumu, her eyes darkening with resolve. "Don't talk about him now, Borda," she panted, her voice trembling but certain. "I am lying naked beneath *you*, not him. You have lit this fire in my body, Borda. You have to finish this."
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