Incest Little sis Anjali

[prasannas2001]

 
Rohan seemed to sense her inner turmoil, the delicate balance between fear and desire, shame and arousal.
 
He saw the way her hands clenched at her sides, the slight tremble in her shoulders. Instead of pushing her further, he took a step back, giving her space, his expression softening with a surprising tenderness.
 
"My turn," he said, his voice a low, gentle rumble that was a stark contrast to the hunger in his eyes. "Neetu. Dare."
 
Neetu looked up at him, her own eyes a hazy, confused mix of emotions. "Dare," she breathed, the word barely a whisper.
 
Rohan's gaze flickered from Neetu's vulnerable, naked form to his sister's proud, exposed breasts.
 
A slow, thoughtful smile touched his lips. "I dare you," he said, his voice deliberate and reassuring, "to feel and press and kiss Anjali's breasts. In fact, I dare you to do anything you want with them. Take your time. Explore them. Make her feel good."
 
The dare was a gift. It was a lifeline thrown to her in the swirling sea of her own vulnerability. It shifted the focus from her exposed state to a position of control, of action.
 
Neetu's eyes widened slightly, and she turned to look at Anjali, who gave her a warm, encouraging nod.
 
In that moment, something shifted within Neetu. The conscious, overthinking part of her mind, the part that was consumed with shyness and fear, seemed to recede.
 
Before she even fully registered the decision, her hands were moving. It was as if they had a will of their own, drawn by an invisible, magnetic force toward Anjali's chest.
 
Her fingers, still trembling slightly, made contact with the warm, smooth skin of Anjali's breasts. The sensation was electric.
 
Anjali's flesh was so soft, yet beneath that softness was a firm, resilient weight that filled her palms perfectly.
 
Neetu's eyes widened in wonder. She had touched her own breasts countless times, but this was different.
 
This was exploring another's body, feeling the unique texture and shape of another woman.