Incest Little sis Anjali

[prasannas2001]

 
The bra went slack, the only thing holding it in place now being the tension of the straps against her shoulders.
 
With a gasp of panic, her hands flew up to her chest, pressing the lace cups firmly against her breasts, holding them in a desperate, final shield.
 
Rohan's warm breath was against her ear again. "Don't be afraid, Neetu," he whispered, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "You're so beautiful. Let us see you."
 
He began to place soft, wet kisses along her neck and earlobe, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin.
 
The sensation was overwhelming, a slow, deliberate assault on her senses that made her body betray her mind. Her resolve crumbled, and she felt her arms slowly weakening, her hands losing their grip.
 
Sensing her surrender, Rohan gently but firmly took her wrists in his hands, pulling them away from her chest, down to her sides.
 
The lacy bra, with nothing left to hold it, slid down her arms and dropped forgotten onto the bedding, a soft whisper in the charged silence.
 
And there she was. Topless. Exposed.
 
The sight was breathtaking.
 
Neetu's breasts were nothing short of heavenly. They were a perfect, mouth-watering combination of softness and firmness, defying gravity with their proud, upright stance.
 
They were not large, but perfectly proportioned to her slender frame, shaped like flawless teardrops with a gentle swell that demanded to be touched.
 
The skin was smooth and creamy, the color of warm honey in the flickering candlelight, appearing so soft and yielding, yet they stood firm and high on her chest, without the slightest hint of sag.
 
At their center, her nipples were already taut and standing proudly, a testament to her arousal.
 
They were a delicate, dusty rose color, tightening into hard, pebbled peaks that seemed to beg for attention.
 
They were perfectly sized, sitting in the center of slightly darker, puckered areolas that crinkled with the cool air and the heat of their gazes.