Incest Little sis Anjali and her friends

[prasannas2001]

 
The apartment was bright and airy, filled with the scent of freshly made parathas and brewing chai.
 
It was the scent of a home, a loving, functional home, and it made Rohan's own chaotic, pleasure-filled morning seem like a scene from another planet.
 
As Mamta bustled around the kitchen, her movements efficient and graceful, Rohan couldn't take his eyes off her.
 
He watched the way her dupatta dbangd over her shoulder, the way her bangles jingled softly on her wrists, the way a stray tendril of hair had escaped her knot and was curling gently at the nape of her neck.
 
He saw Neetu in her, of course, but where Neetu's beauty was that of a budding flower, Mamta's was that of a flower in full, glorious, and dangerous bloom.
 
She was twenty when she had Neetu, and she is 38 now.
 
Rohan tried to imagine her at his age, full of the same restless energy and desires that churned within him, and the image that formed in his mind was so potent it made him shift uncomfortably in his chair.
 
"So, Rohan," Mamta said, placing a plate of steaming aloo parathas in front of him, her fingers accidentally brushing his.
 
The touch was fleeting, but it sent a jolt through him that was far more powerful than it should have been.
 
"What are you studying beta? What are your plans after your studies?"
 
The conversation continued just like that.. They talked about his studies, his ambitions, the city.
  
Rohan found himself opening up to her in a way he rarely did with anyone, even his own sister.
 
There was an easy, natural flow to their conversation, a comfort that felt both surprising and utterly right.
 
He discovered they shared a similar dry sense of humor, a love for old Hindi films, and a surprising mutual disdain for the city's new metro project.