22-03-2026, 07:35 PM
The next day morning sun filtered through the lace curtains of the farmhouse bedroom, casting golden patterns on the wooden floor. Offices had claimed the others—Priya and Vivek had left early, murmuring about meetings, leaving the house hushed and heavy with last night’s secrets. Harish sat in the living room, newspaper open but unread, his mind replaying the way Vivek had painted Priya’s ass with cum. His cock twitched at the memory.
Mrunal’s shower had ended minutes ago. He heard the soft pad of wet feet, the rustle of fabric. Then a sharp, high-pitched scream tore through the silence.
“Ohhhhhh! Cockroach! Harish bhaiya! Cockroach in my saree!”
Harish dropped the paper and bolted toward her bedroom. The door was ajar. He pushed it open to find Mrunal in frantic panic—only in a skimpy red lace bra that barely contained her full, heavy breasts and matching red thong panties that rode high on her wide hips, the thin string disappearing between her plump ass cheeks. The pleated saree lay half-dbangd on the bed, a fat black cockroach scuttling across the pallu.
She ran straight into his arms, trembling, pressing her damp, warm body flush against him. Her breasts squished against his chest, nipples already pebbled from the cool air and fear. “Bhaiya… kill it… please!”
Harish’s arms wrapped around her instinctively—one hand on her bare lower back, the other sliding down to cup her hip. His fingers dug into the soft flesh just above the thong’s waistband. He could feel her heartbeat hammering against him. With a quick swipe of his foot, he crushed the insect and flicked it away.
But his cock had already jumped to full, aching hardness—pressing obscenely against her soft belly through his thin pajama pants. Mrunal didn’t notice at first, still clinging, face buried in his neck, her hot breath fanning his skin. “Thank you… I hate those things…”
Harish didn’t let go. His palm glided lower, tracing the curve of her ass, thumb brushing the red string that vanished between her cheeks. His other hand roamed up her side, “accidentally” grazing the side of her breast. She shivered but stayed pressed close—her body still buzzing from the shower, skin scented with jasmine soap and something hotter underneath.
Only when he slowly sank to his knees did she register the shift.
Harish’s hands gripped her hips possessively. He leaned in, lips brushing her oval-shaped navel—soft, deep, glistening faintly with leftover shower droplets. His tongue flicked inside it, circling, tasting salt and skin. Then he kissed lower, open-mouthed along the gentle swell of her tummy, sucking lightly, leaving a wet trail.
Mrunal gasped sharply, jerking back. “Harish! What—what are you doing?!”
He looked up, eyes dark and hungry, hands still locked on her hips. “Shhh… you’re shaking, Mrunal. Let me calm you down. You feel so warm… so soft…”
“No!” She tried to step back, but her legs wobbled. “You’re Priya’s husband… my sister’s husband! This is wrong—you can’t—”
Her voice cracked as his tongue dragged across her navel again, deeper this time, while one hand boldly slipped around to squeeze her ass cheek, fingers dipping under the thong string and tugging it aside. The cool air kissed her already slick pussy lips. She was dripping—had been since last night’s sounds had leaked through the walls and stirred something forbidden in her.
Harish rose just enough to pull her against him again, his thick erection now grinding openly against her mound. “Your body doesn’t think it’s wrong, baby. Feel how wet you are already. Your nipples are begging…” He cupped one breast through the red lace, thumb flicking the stiff peak hard. Mrunal moaned despite herself, hips twitching forward.
“Please… we can’t… Priya… Vivek…” she whimpered, but her hands had already clutched his shoulders, nails digging in.
He spun her suddenly, pressing her front against the dressing table mirror. Her reflection stared back—flushed face, red bra askew, thong pulled aside exposing her swollen, shaved cunt glistening with arousal. Harish yanked his pajama down, his heavy cock slapping against her ass—thicker than she expected, veined and leaking.
“Look at yourself,” he growled in her ear, biting her lobe. One hand shoved two fingers straight into her soaked hole—curling, scissoring, stretching. The wet squelch filled the room. “See how your pussy is sucking my fingers? You’ve been aching since you saw those marks on Priya this morning, haven’t you?”
Mrunal’s knees buckled. “Ahhh… Harish… stop… oh fuck, deeper—”
He didn’t stop. He kicked her legs wider, bent her forward so her tits spilled out of the bra onto the cool wood, and replaced his fingers with the fat head of his cock. One brutal thrust and he buried half his length inside her—her walls fluttering wildly around the invasion.
Mrunal screamed in pleasure, forehead pressed to the mirror, fogging it with her breath. “Too big… you’re splitting me… my brother-in-law’s cock inside me… oh god!”
Harish gripped her hair, pulling her head back so she had to watch. He slammed in fully—balls-deep—then fucked her with savage, possessive strokes. The mirror shook. Her ass rippled with every impact. He reached around and rubbed her clit in tight, merciless circles while his other hand mauled her swinging breasts, pinching and twisting both nipples until she sobbed.
“Say it,” he snarled, pounding harder, the wet slap of skin echoing. “Say you want your sister’s husband to ruin this married pussy.”
“I—I want it!” she cried, breaking completely. Her body betrayed her utterly—cunt clamping, squirting a hot gush around his pistoning shaft. “Fuck me harder, Harish! Breed me like you bred Priya last night!”
He roared, flipping her onto the bed in one motion. Her legs were shoved up to her shoulders, red thong ripped off and dangling from one ankle. Harish mounted her like an animal—deep, grinding strokes that hit her cervix every time. He sucked her tits raw, leaving fresh bite marks beside the faint ones from last night. His thumb pressed into her puckered asshole, fingering it open while his cock destroyed her cunt.
Mrunal came violently—back arching, eyes rolling, a flood soaking his thighs and the sheets. “Cumming… on my sister’s husband’s cock… I’m cumming so hard!”
Harish didn’t pull out. He buried himself to the hilt and erupted—thick, endless ropes of cum blasting straight into her womb, overflowing and creaming out around his shaft in messy white rings. He kept thrusting through it, pushing every drop deeper, marking her.
When he finally collapsed beside her, both panting, sweat-slick and trembling, Mrunal turned to him with dazed, lust-drunk eyes. Her fingers traced the fresh cum leaking from her ruined pussy.
She whispered, voice hoarse and hungry, “Priya can never know
Mrunal’s shower had ended minutes ago. He heard the soft pad of wet feet, the rustle of fabric. Then a sharp, high-pitched scream tore through the silence.
“Ohhhhhh! Cockroach! Harish bhaiya! Cockroach in my saree!”
Harish dropped the paper and bolted toward her bedroom. The door was ajar. He pushed it open to find Mrunal in frantic panic—only in a skimpy red lace bra that barely contained her full, heavy breasts and matching red thong panties that rode high on her wide hips, the thin string disappearing between her plump ass cheeks. The pleated saree lay half-dbangd on the bed, a fat black cockroach scuttling across the pallu.
She ran straight into his arms, trembling, pressing her damp, warm body flush against him. Her breasts squished against his chest, nipples already pebbled from the cool air and fear. “Bhaiya… kill it… please!”
Harish’s arms wrapped around her instinctively—one hand on her bare lower back, the other sliding down to cup her hip. His fingers dug into the soft flesh just above the thong’s waistband. He could feel her heartbeat hammering against him. With a quick swipe of his foot, he crushed the insect and flicked it away.
But his cock had already jumped to full, aching hardness—pressing obscenely against her soft belly through his thin pajama pants. Mrunal didn’t notice at first, still clinging, face buried in his neck, her hot breath fanning his skin. “Thank you… I hate those things…”
Harish didn’t let go. His palm glided lower, tracing the curve of her ass, thumb brushing the red string that vanished between her cheeks. His other hand roamed up her side, “accidentally” grazing the side of her breast. She shivered but stayed pressed close—her body still buzzing from the shower, skin scented with jasmine soap and something hotter underneath.
Only when he slowly sank to his knees did she register the shift.
Harish’s hands gripped her hips possessively. He leaned in, lips brushing her oval-shaped navel—soft, deep, glistening faintly with leftover shower droplets. His tongue flicked inside it, circling, tasting salt and skin. Then he kissed lower, open-mouthed along the gentle swell of her tummy, sucking lightly, leaving a wet trail.
Mrunal gasped sharply, jerking back. “Harish! What—what are you doing?!”
He looked up, eyes dark and hungry, hands still locked on her hips. “Shhh… you’re shaking, Mrunal. Let me calm you down. You feel so warm… so soft…”
“No!” She tried to step back, but her legs wobbled. “You’re Priya’s husband… my sister’s husband! This is wrong—you can’t—”
Her voice cracked as his tongue dragged across her navel again, deeper this time, while one hand boldly slipped around to squeeze her ass cheek, fingers dipping under the thong string and tugging it aside. The cool air kissed her already slick pussy lips. She was dripping—had been since last night’s sounds had leaked through the walls and stirred something forbidden in her.
Harish rose just enough to pull her against him again, his thick erection now grinding openly against her mound. “Your body doesn’t think it’s wrong, baby. Feel how wet you are already. Your nipples are begging…” He cupped one breast through the red lace, thumb flicking the stiff peak hard. Mrunal moaned despite herself, hips twitching forward.
“Please… we can’t… Priya… Vivek…” she whimpered, but her hands had already clutched his shoulders, nails digging in.
He spun her suddenly, pressing her front against the dressing table mirror. Her reflection stared back—flushed face, red bra askew, thong pulled aside exposing her swollen, shaved cunt glistening with arousal. Harish yanked his pajama down, his heavy cock slapping against her ass—thicker than she expected, veined and leaking.
“Look at yourself,” he growled in her ear, biting her lobe. One hand shoved two fingers straight into her soaked hole—curling, scissoring, stretching. The wet squelch filled the room. “See how your pussy is sucking my fingers? You’ve been aching since you saw those marks on Priya this morning, haven’t you?”
Mrunal’s knees buckled. “Ahhh… Harish… stop… oh fuck, deeper—”
He didn’t stop. He kicked her legs wider, bent her forward so her tits spilled out of the bra onto the cool wood, and replaced his fingers with the fat head of his cock. One brutal thrust and he buried half his length inside her—her walls fluttering wildly around the invasion.
Mrunal screamed in pleasure, forehead pressed to the mirror, fogging it with her breath. “Too big… you’re splitting me… my brother-in-law’s cock inside me… oh god!”
Harish gripped her hair, pulling her head back so she had to watch. He slammed in fully—balls-deep—then fucked her with savage, possessive strokes. The mirror shook. Her ass rippled with every impact. He reached around and rubbed her clit in tight, merciless circles while his other hand mauled her swinging breasts, pinching and twisting both nipples until she sobbed.
“Say it,” he snarled, pounding harder, the wet slap of skin echoing. “Say you want your sister’s husband to ruin this married pussy.”
“I—I want it!” she cried, breaking completely. Her body betrayed her utterly—cunt clamping, squirting a hot gush around his pistoning shaft. “Fuck me harder, Harish! Breed me like you bred Priya last night!”
He roared, flipping her onto the bed in one motion. Her legs were shoved up to her shoulders, red thong ripped off and dangling from one ankle. Harish mounted her like an animal—deep, grinding strokes that hit her cervix every time. He sucked her tits raw, leaving fresh bite marks beside the faint ones from last night. His thumb pressed into her puckered asshole, fingering it open while his cock destroyed her cunt.
Mrunal came violently—back arching, eyes rolling, a flood soaking his thighs and the sheets. “Cumming… on my sister’s husband’s cock… I’m cumming so hard!”
Harish didn’t pull out. He buried himself to the hilt and erupted—thick, endless ropes of cum blasting straight into her womb, overflowing and creaming out around his shaft in messy white rings. He kept thrusting through it, pushing every drop deeper, marking her.
When he finally collapsed beside her, both panting, sweat-slick and trembling, Mrunal turned to him with dazed, lust-drunk eyes. Her fingers traced the fresh cum leaking from her ruined pussy.
She whispered, voice hoarse and hungry, “Priya can never know
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