Incest Little sis Anjali

[prasannas2001]

 
Anjali's hands came up to cup Neetu's face, her fingers pressing Neetu’s cheeks and playing with her hair. She deepened the kiss, claiming her mouth with a passion. It is an experience which, she never even dreamt about.
 
That was both thrilling and terrifying as the same time. Neetu responded with equal passion and unknown liking, her own hands sliding up Anjali's back to rest on her shoulders, pulling her closer while her tongue actively exploring Anjali’s mouth.
 
She could feel the smooth, warm skin of Anjali's back beneath her palms, the steady thrum of her heart against her fingertips.
 
The kiss was different from the one with Rohan, yet equally intense. Where Rohan's kiss had been demanding and possessive, Anjali's was tender and exploratory, yet filled with a simmering passion that made Neetu's toes curl.
 
She felt a surge of arousal so intense it was almost painful, a liquid heat pooling in her belly and spreading through her veins like wildfire.
 
When they finally pulled apart, both were breathing heavily, their chests heaving with each ragged breath. Neetu's lips were swollen and glistening, her eyes dark with desire. Anjali's face was flushed, her pupils dilated with want.
 
"My turn," Anjali said, her voice husky with emotion. "Rohan. Dare."
 
Rohan looked at his sister, his eyes still dark with want. "Dare me."
 
Anjali's gaze flickered between Rohan and Neetu, a bold, mischievous glint in her eyes. "I dare you... to take off your shirt. Let us see what you've been hiding."
 
Rohan knows why Anjali gave him this dare. Neetu 's breath hitched, and he instinctively looked at Neetu, whose eyes had widened with curiosity and perhaps a hint of anticipation.
 
He could feel the weight of their gazes on him, the expectation in the air. He took a deep breath, then another, before finally nodding.
 
"Okay," he breathed finally. "For you both."
 
With deliberate slowness that drew shallow breaths from both Neetu and Anjali, Rohan reached for the hem of his shirt. He lifted it over his head, the fabric whispering against his skin as it rose, exposing the hard planes of his stomach, the defined muscles of his chest.