Adultery Forbidden pleasure & destroyed Souls

[story_reeder]

Forbidden fruit tastes better, but there is always cost involved.

In real world, your forbidden desire never materialize.

This story is about such unpleasant experience.

[story_reeder]

A proper middle-class Indian family, mummy-papa both slogging away at their 9-to-5 jobs, leaving the house buzzing with the drama of their two kids—Arpita, the elder beti, and Rupesh, the shy, lanky bhai. Now, Arpita, oh bhai, she’s the full-on heroine material! At 25, she’s married off and settled in Bangalore, playing the perfect housewife with her husband and their little two-year-old munchkin, Yuvan. Meanwhile, Rupesh, the 20-year-old college lad, is still chilling at home in Mangalore with mummy-papa, all athletic and fair-skinned, standing tall at 5ft 9in, but so introverted he’d rather talk to his textbooks than the neighborhood lassies.

Now, let’s zoom into Arpita, because, arre wah, she’s a total stunner! Back in her college days, this girl was slaying beauty pageants left, right, and center—fair skin glowing like a Diwali diya, and a figure so perfect you’d think she walked straight out of a Bollywood song. 32D-28-32, 5ft 8in tall, and those firm, jaw-dropping boobs that don’t even know the meaning of sag—seriously, they could wake up a coma patient, so perky and gorgeous they were! Even now, after popping out little Yuvan, she looks like she’s never seen a stretch mark in her life. Rupesh, on the other hand, is no slouch either—fair, fit, and decently handsome—but the poor chap’s too busy blushing to chat up any college girls.

So, the plot thickens, boss! Arpita’s husband jets off abroad for some fancy office trip, leaving her and Yuvan to pack their bags and head to the parents’ house in Mangalore for a few months. The setup at home is classic desi—mummy-papa’s room on the ground floor, Arpita crashing in her old first-floor bedroom, and Rupesh holed up in his tiny terrace den with an attached loo. The parents are out from 9 AM to 7 PM, sweating it out at work, so the house becomes a playground for Arpita, Yuvan, and Rupesh.

First day, Arpita struts in wearing a navy blue saree with a matching blouse—oh my God, the way that color popped against her milky skin, she looked like a bloody apsara! And Rupesh? The minute he laid eyes on her, his jaw hit the floor. That blouse hugging her plump, juicy boobs was like a magnet for his sneaky glances. The saree was dbangd so casually, it was practically teasing him—half covering, half revealing those curves. Rupesh, you see, has always been a boob-man, and his didi’s assets were driving him mental!

Arpita, oblivious to all this, was just thrilled to be back home, catching up with mummy-papa and even complimenting Rupesh’s green-white striped tee like a good behen. But at home, she’s all chill—ditching the saree for comfy tees, which only made it worse for Rupesh. Every time she leaned over or brushed past him, those luscious boobs jiggling under the fabric sent his hormones into overdrive. He’d steal glances like a pro thief, heart thumping louder than a dhol at a wedding.

Days rolled by, and the routine kicked in. Rupesh, back from college by 2 PM, would play with little Yuvan—tossing balls, running around—while Arpita joined in, laughing and carefree. After 5 PM, they’d hit the nearby park, Yuvan giggling away as Rupesh proved he’s a natural with kids. Arpita couldn’t help but notice how her bhai was ten times better with Yuvan than her husband ever was. She’d watch them bond, her heart swelling with pride, totally unaware of the lust brewing in Rupesh’s head.

Then came the day, Arpita had just returned from meeting her gal-pals, rocking a pink saree that made her fair skin glow like a bloody supernova. Rupesh couldn’t peel his eyes off her—those firm boobs, perfectly outlined by the pink blouse, were screaming for attention. They were playing “Catch Me If You Can” in the living room, Yuvan squealing as Rupesh chased Arpita around the sofa. She’s darting, giggling, turning her head to taunt him, when—bam!—her foot slams into the tea table. Down she goes, crashing onto the sofa, flat on her back, and Rupesh, hot on her heels, tumbles right on top of her!

Oh ho, what a scene, bhai! Their bodies smashed together—Rupesh’s chest pressing against her soft, heavenly boobs, her warmth seeping into him. For a split second, time froze, and his dirty mind exploded with fireworks. She laughed it off, thinking it’s just sibling silliness, but Rupesh? He was a goner—his brain flooded with spicy, erotic thoughts, his eyes glued to her blouse like a hawk. That pink fabric stretched over her non-sagging treasures was pure torture for him; he couldn’t look away if his life depended on it.

The game went on, but now Arpita clocked him staring. Her pallu had slipped during the chase, leaving her pink blouse—and those killer curves—on full display. Rupesh, lost in his lust, wasn’t even subtle anymore, gawking openly like a roadside Romeo. Arpita caught the vibe, and her smile vanished. She felt a pang of unease, her gut twisting—how could her own bhai look at her like that? Without a word, she bolted from the game, storming off to her room, leaving Rupesh standing there, still half-dazed by the forbidden heat of the moment.

[story_reeder]

From that fateful day, everything flipped upside down in the house! Arpita, our saree-clad bombshell, put her foot down—no more playing with Rupesh and Yuvan. She’d caught her bhai’s lustful stares, and now her hawk-eyes were tracking his every move like a CID inspector. One evening, she cornered him, voice sharp as a kitchen knife, "Rupesh, ek aur baar aise ghoora na, toh mummy-papa ko sab bata doongi!" Rupesh, sweating buckets, got the message loud and clear. Those sneaky glances at her blouse? History. But the poor lad went full hermit mode—dodging Arpita like she was a loan shark, refusing to play with Yuvan, and even ditching their park trips. Whenever the little champ toddled up to his mama for some ball-tossing fun, Rupesh mumbled excuses— "Exams hai, padhai karni hai" —and bolted.

Arpita, meanwhile, was stuck taking Yuvan to the park solo, feeling lonelier than a stray dog on Diwali night. Her kid missed his fun-loving uncle, and her heart ached seeing Yuvan’s sad little face. Rupesh? He’d turned into a college rebel, hanging with his buddies till 7 PM, only slinking home when mummy-papa were back from work. One night, after the parents hit the sack, Arpita couldn’t take it anymore. She marched up to his terrace den, eyes blazing but voice soft, "Rupesh, yeh galat tha jo tune meri taraf aise dekha. Par Yuvan ke saath thodi si waqt toh bita, please!" Rupesh just nodded, head hung low, ashamed.

Now, here’s where the spice kicks in, bhai! Arpita had been crashing at her parents’ place for nearly a month, and with her husband miles away, her body was screaming for some action. Those pent-up urges were hitting her like a monsoon storm—hot, restless, and uncontrollable. Next day, Rupesh, maybe feeling guilty, came home early from college. They all headed to the park, strolling around the pond. Suddenly, Yuvan, the little daredevil, tripped on a rock and—splash!—tumbled into the deep, murky water. Arpita screamed, but before she could blink, Rupesh dove in like a bloody Bollywood hero, pulling the kid out, soaked but safe. Arpita’s jaw dropped—her baby brother wasn’t a kid anymore; he was a man, a savior! Her heart did a somersault, and something shifted deep inside her.

After that, Rupesh went back to playing with Yuvan like old times, but Arpita kept her distance, watching from afar. One day, Yuvan tugged at her saree, "Mummy, come play na!" She shot Rupesh a glare so fierce it could melt steel, suspecting he’d put the kid up to it to get close to her again. Rupesh, eyes wide with panic, practically cried, "Arre, didi, yeh uska idea tha! Mera isme haath nahi hai!" His voice cracked, and Arpita’s anger melted into pity. She felt a pang of guilt for doubting him.

From then on, she started sneaking peeks at him—how he tossed Yuvan in the air, how he laughed so carefree. But oh bhai, her mind was a mess! She missed her husband’s touch, those steamy nights, and now Rupesh’s heroics kept creeping into her thoughts. That pond rescue? The way he’d fearlessly jumped in, all manly and brave—it sent shivers down her spine and, bloody hell, straight to her core. She’d lock herself in her room, hand slipping under her nightie, and—boom—Rupesh’s face would flash in her mind. Her pussy throbbed, wet and wild, every time he was near. She’d tremble like a leaf, fighting the heat pooling between her thighs.

One day, she snapped. "Bas kar, Arpita!" she told herself. "He’s your bhai, but he saved Yuvan—he deserves something!" She convinced herself it wasn’t wrong to let him feast his eyes a little, just as a thank-you for loving her son. So, she got bold—ditching the dupatta, wearing low-cut blouses, letting her saree slip just enough to tease. Her firm, juicy boobs peeked out, daring him to look. But Rupesh? After her warning, he was a saint—eyes glued to the floor, avoiding her exposed assets like they were live wires. She’d strut around, skin glowing, curves on display, and he’d still act like a monk!

[Saikarthik]

Can you add english lines for hindi lines

[tweeny_fory]

story is running at a marathon phase bro.. but all essential elements are there
waiting to know more

[story_reeder]

One lazy afternoon, Rupesh strolled in from college, plonking himself at the dining table for lunch, all casual in his green-white striped tee, chatting away with little Yuvan. Arpita, though, had a plan brewing—time to crank up the heat and see if she could rattle her shy bhai out of his shell. She slipped into that same pink saree and blouse—the one that made her fair skin glow like a bloody Pataka firecracker back in the sofa tumble days. As she sashayed over to serve him his daal-roti, she tugged the saree slyly to the left, letting the pallu slide just enough so her blouse hugged her left boob tight, putting it on full display like a damn trophy. Those firm, luscious curves were practically winking at him!

Rupesh, the clueless lad, was too busy shoveling food and giggling with Yuvan to notice her little game. Usually, Arpita would serve and scoot, but today? Oh no, she lingered, standing right by his side, close enough for him to feel the heat radiating off her. She cleared her throat with a loud "Hmmm," all dramatic like a Hindi serial vamp. Rupesh, startled, turned his head—and bam!—his eyes locked onto that pink blouse cradling her perfect boob. It hit him like a 440-volt jolt straight to the gut! His body froze, his brain short-circuited, and all the blood in his veins made a mad dash south. In milliseconds, his shaft sprang to life, harder than a steel rod, bigger than he’d ever felt—like it was ready to burst through his pants!

Flustered, he whipped his head away, cheeks burning, thinking, "Arre, yeh galti se dikh gaya hoga!" Arpita, cool as a cucumber, purred, "Khana kaisa laga, Rupesh?" His voice came out shaky, a nervous squeak—"Achha hai"—eyes glued to his plate, not daring to look up. His hands trembled like he’d seen a bhoot, spoon clattering against the plate. His mind was a blank slate, but his body? Oh, it had its own bloody agenda! That throbbing erection was screaming for control, and he couldn’t even think straight—his shaft felt like a ticking bomb, ready to explode into a million pieces. For the first time, he realized his body was a traitor with a mind of its own!

Poor Rupesh couldn’t take it anymore. He bolted from the table, lunch half-eaten, muttering some excuse, and dashed upstairs to his terrace room like a man possessed. Arpita watched him flee, a tiny smirk tugging at her lips. Sure, she was a tad disappointed he didn’t rise to the bait, but oh bhai, the way he’d turned pale as a ghost, hands shaking, voice cracking—it was pure gold! She reveled in the chaos she’d unleashed, proud as a peacock. Even after popping out Yuvan, she still had it—the power to make men weak in the knees. Everywhere she went, heads turned, jaws dropped, and now, seeing her own bhai crumble under her spell? That was the ultimate ego boost!

Rupesh, locked in his room, was a mess. He was terrified to look at her—her warning still echoing in his head—but God help him, he *wanted* to. As he fled, his traitor eyes betrayed him again, stealing one last desperate glance at that pink-clad boob before he slammed the door shut. His heart pounded, his mind blank, and his body still raging with that uncontrollable heat. Meanwhile, Arpita stood there, basking in her victory—mother of a kid or not, she was still the queen of seduction, and Rupesh’s meltdown was proof her beauty could bring any man to his knees!

[Projectmp]

Very erotic

[story_reeder]

Rupesh, mind spinning with thoughts of Arpita, bolted to his terrace room and locked the door tight. That image of her pink blouse hugging her left boob was burned into his brain, sending electric shocks through his veins. Alone at last, he couldn’t hold back—hands fumbling, he started masturbating, lost in the wild rush of it all. But just as he was hitting his stride, a little knock shattered the moment. It was Yuvan, his nephew, chirping, "Mama, come play with me!" Rupesh’s mood crashed like a cheap kite in a storm. The thrill fizzled out, replaced by a cold dread—what if Arpita caught him staring again and ratted him out to mummy-papa? No way he was stepping out now! Cracking the door just a sliver, he muttered, "I’ve got work, beta, we’ll play later," and shooed the kid off.

Yuvan, sulking, toddled downstairs and whined to Arpita, "Mama won’t play with me!" Arpita, catching the vibe, decided to take matters into her own hands. She marched upstairs and rapped on Rupesh’s door. He, thinking it was Yuvan again, grumbled, "Go play with your mummy today!" But then her voice cut through, smooth and firm, "Rupesh, it’s me. Come join Yuvan for a game!" His heart skipped a beat—his body betrayed him, stirring awake despite his panic. Reluctantly, he shuffled out, and there she was—saree pallu still teasingly low, her boobs looking so deliciously gorgeous he could barely breathe.

Today, Arpita was in on the action, suggesting a round of Blindman’s Buff. Rupesh’s nerves were on edge—play a game with *her* after that dining table fiasco? But as they got into it, tossing laughs and chasing Yuvan, he started to loosen up. Then it was Arpita’s turn to wear the blindfold. She tied it on, stumbling around, and oh boy—the natural sway of her saree went haywire. The pallu slipped, flashing her hip and that left boob again, half-exposed in all its glory. Rupesh’s eyes widened, his pulse racing like a runaway train. That electric jolt hit him square in the chest, and his brain kicked into overdrive, barking orders to his body—*look, stare, burn it into your memory!* The excitement was back, fiercer than ever, and he was hooked all over again.

[story_reeder]

Rupesh stood frozen, his eyes locked on Arpita’s partially exposed body as her saree slipped slightly, revealing tantalizing curves. His nephew, Yuvan, darted around the room, his laughter and footsteps filling the air with chaotic energy. But Rupesh barely noticed—he was too consumed by a pulsing arousal, his mind racing with a single thought: he had to feel her again. She was blindfolded, stumbling through the living room in a playful game, unaware of his intentions. With his heart hammering, he deliberately stepped into her path, positioning himself so she’d crash right into him.

And she did. Arpita collided with him, her body soft and warm against his. Instinctively, he caught her, his arms wrapping around her to stop her fall. She clung to him in return, steadying herself, and for a moment, they were locked in a tight embrace. Their bodies pressed together, the heat between them undeniable. They lingered there, feeling each other’s closeness, until the spell broke, and they parted, breathless and rattled by the intensity.

Next, it was Yuvan’s turn to be blindfolded. The little boy giggled as he groped around the room, searching for them. Rupesh and Arpita darted out of his way, their movements charged with the thrill of their earlier hug. Their faces betrayed their thoughts—flushed cheeks, quickened breaths, eyes darting toward each other. Suddenly, the chaos shifted: Yuvan chased after Rupesh, and Arpita veered left to avoid her son, only to crash into Rupesh again. He reacted fast, his hand landing on her hip, fingers gripping her soft flesh to steady her. She looked up at him, grinning mischievously, and teased, “So, how was lunch?” Rupesh froze, expecting a reprimand, his hand jerking back in fear. But her playful tone hit him like a revelation—she wasn’t angry; she was enjoying this.

Emboldened, he pulled her into another embrace, his hands squeezing her hips possessively. She melted into him, returning the hug with equal force, their bodies fitting together perfectly. Then, driven by impulse, Rupesh’s right hand slid upward, grasping her left breast. He squeezed it hard, as if trying to mold it to his will—it felt firm yet yielding, like a rubber ball in his palm. Unable to resist, he lowered his head, taking as much of her breast as he could into his mouth through the fabric, sucking and biting gently. Arpita gasped, her body igniting with a sensation she’d never known. The pressure of his hand, the warmth of his mouth—it overwhelmed her, leaving her motionless in his grasp, lost in the forbidden pleasure.

But then, Yuvan’s voice broke through the haze: “Where are you guys?” The sound jolted them back to reality. Guilt and shame crashed over Arpita like a tidal wave—she shoved Rupesh away, horrified by what they’d done. Without a word, she fled to her room, slamming the door behind her as tears welled up. Rupesh stood there, stunned, the silence in the room deafening. Yuvan called out again, “Where are you?” Rupesh muttered, “She’s in her room, not feeling well,” before retreating to his own space, telling the boy, “I need to rest.”

Alone in his room, Rupesh locked the door, his body still thrumming with desire. He masturbated twice, each time reliving the electric shock of that moment—her breast in his mouth, her body against his. Even now, the memory kept him hard, his mind replaying every second. Meanwhile, Arpita lay on her bed, sobbing uncontrollably, until Yuvan toddled in. Seeing her son, she wiped her tears, forcing a smile. “Come lie down with me,” she said softly, pulling him close as she tried to bury the turmoil inside her.

For both siblings, the game was over—but the echoes of their encounter lingered, a secret that had changed everything.

[story_reeder]

A few hours later, Yuvan piped up, “Mummy, let’s go to the park!” Arpita, sprawled on her bed, waved him off, “Not today, beta, I’m not feeling well.” The disappointed kid scampered off to Rupesh, tugging at his sleeve, “Mama, Mummy’s sick—take me instead!” Rupesh nodded, “Alright, chalo,” and led Yuvan toward Arpita’s room. “Go put on your shoes,” he told the kid, “I’ll get your mum.” Stepping inside, he found Arpita lying with her back to the door, her saree hitched up just enough to frame her ass—round, alluring, and calling to him like a siren. “Arpita,” he said softly, his voice thick with tension. The sound sent a jolt through her, rippling to places she couldn’t name, her body waking up despite her will.

She turned to face him, and—bloody hell—the saree had slipped, leaving both breasts bare under that pink blouse, her cleavage a deep, inviting valley. Rupesh’s blood roared. Lust took over, and he lunged, crashing onto her, lips smashing against hers in a desperate kiss. Her body was already a furnace, helpless against the wildfire he ignited. Straddling her, he devoured her mouth like they’d been starved for centuries, her legs locking around his hips, his hands clamping onto her breasts, squeezing hard. They humped and kissed like feral beasts—raw, reckless, unstoppable—lost in a frenzy of heat and hunger.

Then, Yuvan’s voice pierced the haze, calling from the living room. Arpita froze, shoving at Rupesh to break the kiss. He pulled back, reluctant, hands still kneading her boobs like dough. She squirmed as he leaned down, mouth aiming for her chest again, but the kid’s shouts grew closer. “Rupesh, please, get out!” she begged, voice cracking. He lingered, eyes devouring her blouse-clad breasts, giving them one last greedy squeeze. Tears welled up as she grabbed his arms, pleading, “Go!” Guilt stabbed him—seeing her cry broke his heart. Wordlessly, he stumbled out, chest heavy with shame.

He took Yuvan to the park, playing half-heartedly, mind replaying the madness. Back home, Arpita’s door was locked tight. He kept Yuvan company till their parents rolled in at 7 PM. At dinner, Arpita stayed in her room, claiming a headache. Rupesh felt rotten for forcing himself on her, yet a dark corner of his mind whispered she’d wanted it too. Inside her locked room, Arpita was a live wire—aroused beyond reason. She tried masturbating to thoughts of her husband, but Rupesh’s hands, his mouth, his body on hers that afternoon hijacked her mind. It was a hundred times hotter than any night with her husband—his touch still lingered, electrifying her. She came hard, harder than ever, but kept going, rubbing herself raw, body blazing even after multiple orgasms, tangled in guilt and confusion.

Upstairs, Rupesh was just as wrecked—aroused to a peak he’d never known, torn between shame and desire. Come Saturday, their parents were home. Arpita woke up drowning in regret, while Rupesh slept late, missing breakfast. At 12:30, he shuffled downstairs, finding Mummy and Arpita in the kitchen, Yuvan playing with Grandpa in the living room. The kid lit up, “Mama!” and everyone gathered for lunch. Afterward, Yuvan chirped, “Let’s play Blindman’s Buff like yesterday!”—describing it to Grandpa. The words slammed into Rupesh and Arpita like a freight train, eyes locking across the table, heat surging. She caught him staring at her breasts—fully covered now, but she adjusted her saree anyway, shocked at how his gaze set her ablaze again. Post-lunch, she fled to her room to “rest,” while Rupesh distracted Yuvan with laptop games, his arousal fading with time.

[story_reeder]

Arpita, alone in her room, gave in to the storm inside her, masturbating until her body quaked with release. The orgasm cleared her head, and a steely resolve took hold—she had to confront Rupesh. This madness was a sin, a ticking bomb that could shatter her life if anyone found out. Downstairs, Yuvan grew bored of the laptop game and tugged at Rupesh, “Mama, let’s play Blindman’s Buff like yesterday!” The words yanked Rupesh back to that wild moment—Arpita’s boob in his mouth, soft and perfect, flooding his mind. Arousal hit him like a freight train, his thoughts drowning in her taste. Then—ping!—his phone buzzed. A message from Arpita, a rare shock. “We need to talk,” it read. His heart leapt, thrill overriding sense. He dumped Yuvan with their grandparents and bolted to her room.

She sat on the bed in pajamas and a loose t-shirt—modest, no skin on show, a stark shift from the saree siren. But the second he stepped in, her body betrayed her, arousal flickering deep inside. She clenched her jaw, hiding it behind a mask of calm confusion, and pointed to a chair across from her. “Sit,” she said, voice steady but eyes troubled. “What we did yesterday was wrong, Rupesh. A sin.” He nodded, half-listening, his eyes sneaking toward her chest, hunting for a glimpse of her assets beneath the fabric. That hungry stare stoked her fire—she felt it, hated it, fought it. Her words sharpened, “It can’t happen again. If anyone finds out, my life’s over!” But his gaze wouldn’t quit, and her control slipped. Fury surged—she leapt up, fists flying, pounding his chest.

Rupesh stood, grabbing her flailing arms, pulling her into a tight hug to stop the blows. Her body pressed against his, back to the wall, and she went silent, breath hitching. He dipped his head, meeting her face—lips trembling, eyes squeezed shut. Those quivering lips broke him. He kissed her, hard and desperate. She clamped her mouth shut, refusing to kiss back, but didn’t push him away. Undeterred, he peppered her lips and face with loud, wild pecks—random, relentless. Each one sent shivers racing down her spine, her mind screaming at the thrill of him kissing her with their parents just downstairs. Arousal swallowed her whole—she needed a man now.

Seeing her closed eyes and lack of resistance, Rupesh broke the hug, hands darting to her breasts, squeezing through the t-shirt. Her mind unraveled—his touch flipped a switch, her body taking over. A sharp “aaahhh” escaped her lips, and in a flash, her hands seized his head, yanking him into a kiss so fierce it was like her first. Tongues clashed, sucking greedily, their bodies fusing as hands roamed backs. His palms slid down, gripping her ass—soft, juicy, perfect—and he squeezed hard. She moaned into his mouth, and with a grunt, he hoisted her up. Her legs locked around his hips, pinning her to the wall as they humped, raw and primal, sex grinding against sex through their clothes.

The friction drove her wild—she came hard, shuddering against him, bliss flooding her senses. Her arousal vanished post-orgasm, but Rupesh, still rock-hard, kept humping, lost in his own heat. She jerked her head back, breaking the kiss, chest heaving as reality crept back in. He slowed, still pressed against her, their ragged breaths filling the silence.

Arpita slid her legs down, feet hitting the floor, eyes glued to the tiles—too ashamed, too rattled to meet Rupesh’s gaze. But he wasn’t done. His hands shot forward, latching onto her breasts again, squeezing with a hunger that wouldn’t quit. She pushed at him, weak and half-hearted, but he swatted her hands away, gripping her boobs harder, his testosterone roaring like a beast unleashed. “I want you,” he growled, voice thick with lust, eyes boring into hers—wild, ravenous. “I adore you, Arpita. I need you. I want to suck your breasts. I want to fuck you till the day I die.” His words, his stare, lit her up again—agitation and arousal twisting into a dangerous knot inside her.

With a yank, he dragged her to the bed by her breasts, pulling her down with him. She gasped at the sudden move, startled but not resisting, her body betraying her mind. They crashed together, lips locking, kissing like they were starved—tongues tangling, sucking hard. His hands slipped under her t-shirt, roaming her bare hips, her back, fingers digging into her skin. She burned under his touch, lost in it. He tugged at her t-shirt, rolling it up past her black bra, but their tangled weight pinned it there, half-on, half-off. Spotting the bare flesh spilling over the bra, he dove in—kissing, biting, devouring the exposed curve of her breasts. Each nip jolted her awake, her hands flying to his hair, gripping tight as arousal surged.

His hands found her breasts again, cupping them over the bra, then yanking the right cup up to free her nipple. It sprang out, hard and begging, and he latched on—mouth closing over it, sucking like a man possessed. A million-volt shock ripped through her, brain and body electrified, trembling under him. He devoured her right breast like a horny kid with a toy, mashing it, making it soft and pliable in his mouth. Those firm, non-sagging boobs quivered, her nipple swelling half an inch under his relentless sucking, her excitement spiking to a fever pitch.

[story_reeder]

Rupesh devoured her right breast, sucking it like a ripe mango, taking as much as his mouth could handle until it ached under his relentless assault. When Arpita shoved his head away from the tender flesh, he zeroed in on her left boob with the same feral hunger, sucking and tugging with wild abandon. Her hands shot to his hair again, yanking hard, but he barely noticed—his right hand had already slipped into her pajama pants, tracing the edge of her panty. He plunged inside, fingers brushing her swollen lips, sending a fresh shockwave crashing through her. Her pussy responded instantly, flooding with precum, slick and ready. Noticing her hand weakly tugging at his, he ignored it, sliding his middle finger into her hot, pulsing core. A low, guttural shriek tore from her throat—muffled only when he slammed his mouth over hers, swallowing the sound with a fierce kiss.

Her hands clung to his arms, no fight left to pull him away. She thrust her tongue into his mouth, chasing his, then teasingly withdrew, forcing him to follow. When he did, she latched on, sucking his tongue like a melting popsicle. His finger worked her G-spot, relentless, driving her into a trance—she didn’t know where she was anymore, lost in a haze of pleasure. His left hand yanked her pajamas and panty down to her knees, then tugged his own shorts and underwear off. Freeing his throbbing shaft, he pulled his finger out and rested it against her dripping pussy. Her eyes snapped open—shock and fear flashing across her face as she jerked back, breaking the tongue-sucking dance.

He gripped his shaft, rubbing it vertically along her lips, slow and deliberate. Her pussy quivered under his touch, and she squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head no—but he didn’t stop, occasionally flicking her clit with the tip. A bolt of electricity surged through her brain, her mouth gaping in a silent “O” as her back arched off the bed, hips lifting. Seizing the moment, his left hand unhooked her bra, shoving it up to bare her breasts. He lunged, mouth clamping onto her right breast, biting and sucking the firm muscle like a starved animal. Her mind screamed to stop him, but her body was a traitor—overwhelmed by the multi-front assault of pleasure, she yanked his hair harder, caught in the storm.

Her reaction—wild, uncontrolled—egged him on. He ripped her pajamas and panty off completely, tossing them aside. She lost it—sanity shredded—especially when he stopped the vertical tease and started jabbing her hole with his tip. His mouth ravaged her breasts, insatiable, while her empty pussy throbbed, desperate to be filled. Then, shocking him, she let go of his hair, grabbed his face, and pulled him into a kiss so fierce it burned. Mid-kiss, she batted his hand off his shaft, her right hand guiding him between her legs. With her left, she gripped his ass, kneading the muscle, then rubbed his tip against her hole—her signal clear. She motioned him in, and Rupesh didn’t hesitate—thrusting his shaft deep inside her in one swift move. They broke the kiss, eyes locking, faces contorted in raw, erotic bliss as the sensation consumed them both.

Their lips crashed together again, a fierce, passionate kiss as Rupesh kept his shaft buried deep inside her, hands kneading her breasts with relentless hunger. Arpita, confused by his stillness, started rocking her hips beneath him, fucking his shaft from below with desperate little thrusts. Snapping out of his daze, he locked eyes with her—her face flushed, wild—and began pounding her pussy with pure, unrestrained joy. He knew this was a one-shot deal, a forbidden rush he’d never get again, and he was damn well going to make it count. She shut her eyes, savoring every stroke, her hands roaming his ass, gripping the taut muscle as he moved. He mixed it up—slow, deliberate thrusts melting into quick, sharp jabs—fucking her in a way that felt worlds apart from the stiff, routine sex she had with her husband.

Whenever their gazes met, they kissed—hot, sloppy, urgent—and he rasped, “Give me your tongue,” sucking it like a popsicle when she did. His strength, his passion, blew her mind—Rupesh, her own brother, claiming her body like this while their parents chatted downstairs. The secrecy, the taboo of it all, thrilled her more than the raw pleasure itself, though that was plenty mind-blowing. They kept it quiet, stifling moans, the bed barely creaking as he fucked her for a solid seven minutes. Then it hit—he came hard inside her, lips smashing against hers, hands squeezing her boobs as his release flooded her. Feeling his cum coat her walls, she tipped over the edge again, cumming with him, both gasping for air like they’d run a marathon.

For Rupesh, his first time left him giddy, buzzing with triumph. He stayed on top of her, savoring the softness of her body pressed beneath him. But then—faint laughter from downstairs. Yuvan playing with their parents. Reality crashed into Arpita like a tidal wave. She’d just fucked Rupesh—Rupesh—and the weight of it terrified her. The consequences loomed, dark and suffocating. She shoved at him, but he pushed back, pinning her with his weight, shaft still inside, kissing her again. She didn’t kiss back—frozen, unsure, lost. Jerking her face away, she hissed, “Get off, get dressed, go!” and rolled over, yanking her clothes on with trembling hands. He dressed too, but not before stepping up behind her, wrapping her in a back hug, kissing her neck, and giving her breasts one last possessive squeeze. Startled, she tried to push him off silently, but he caught her right ear in his mouth, sucking it hard. Post-two orgasms, her arousal was gone—only guilt remained. With a surge of strength, she shoved him off, sobbing in a harsh whisper, “I’m your sister, you asshole! What did you make me do?” She forced him out, tears streaming.

Rupesh stumbled from the room, stunned by her outburst, her tears cutting deeper than he’d expected. He left without a fight, reeling from the clash of ecstasy and shame.

[story_reeder]

Rupesh stumbled into his room, the echo of Arpita’s sobs ringing in his ears as he slammed the door shut and twisted the lock with a trembling hand. His chest heaved, breath ragged, as he leaned against the wood—horrified by her outburst, terrified by the force with which she’d shoved him out. Her tears, her whispered “What did you make me do?”—they clawed at him, slicing through the euphoria that had cocooned him moments ago. He slid down to the floor, back pressed to the door, and buried his face in his hands, questioning everything. Had he forced her? Pushed her too far? The doubt gnawed at him, a cold, creeping fear that he’d crossed a line she hadn’t wanted to breach.

But then—memories flared, hot and vivid, cutting through the haze. The way she’d kissed him—fierce, hungry, her tongue thrusting into his mouth like she couldn’t get enough. The way she’d rocked her hips beneath him, fucking his shaft with a desperate rhythm, urging him deeper. The way her hand had seized his cock, guiding it to her pussy, pulling him inside with a need that matched his own. No, he reasoned, she’d wanted it—craved it as much as he had—until guilt crashed over her like a tidal wave. She was drowning in shame, he realized, torn up about betraying her husband, fucking her own brother instead. The thought softened his panic, replaced it with a flicker of understanding—but it couldn’t dim the ecstasy still thrumming through him.

His first sexual encounter had cracked open a world he’d never known—a paradise found in the warm, wet grip of a woman’s pussy. Arpita’s pussy. He shifted, cock twitching faintly in his shorts at the memory—her slick heat enveloping him, pulsing around him, milking him dry as he came inside her. It was bliss, pure and primal, a happiness he wanted to chase forever. He longed to bury his shaft in that warmness again, to lose himself in her softness, her scent, her surrender. The intensity of it—the way her body had yielded, the way she’d moaned—left him giddy, drunk on her. Exhaustion tugged at him, the high of their sex and the crash of her rejection pulling him under. He crawled to his bed, collapsing onto the sheets, and let sleep claim him—dreams swirling with her taste, her touch, her trembling form beneath him.

Across the hall, Arpita was a wreck. Alone in her locked room, she curled into herself, the reality of what she’d done with Rupesh sinking its claws deep. Powerless, broken, she sobbed into her pillow—tears soaking the fabric as guilt gnawed at her soul. She’d cheated on her husband, crossed a line she couldn’t un-cross, and the weight of it crushed her. It had started innocently enough—showing off her assets to cheer Rupesh up, teasing him with glimpses of her breasts, her hips, her allure. A harmless game to make him smile. She’d never meant for it to spiral into this—sex with her own brother, a sin so unthinkable it left her reeling. But God, when she remembered it—his cock sliding into her, filling her, fucking her with a passion she’d never known—the sensation overwhelmed her mind, drowning out the shame with a flood of raw, visceral heat.

Her body still hummed with it—his hands on her breasts, squeezing with a strength that bordered on worship; his mouth devouring her pussy, sucking her clit until she’d shattered; his shaft pumping inside her, claiming her in ways her husband never had. Rupesh had looked at her body like it was a masterpiece—eyes dark with lust, tracing every curve—and it made her realize the power she held, the effect she could have on men. It was a pleasure she’d never tasted before, a revelation carved in the strength of his touch, the fervor of his thrusts. Her husband’s sex—stiff, routine, perfunctory—paled to this. Rupesh had loved her body, worshipped it, shown her a way of fucking that was wild, joyful, alive. Her pussy, a part of her she’d barely understood, had erupted with pleasure she didn’t know it could give—waves of ecstasy crashing through her, orchestrated by her brother’s relentless passion.

She wanted to hate him—God, she tried. She wanted to curse him for igniting this fire, for pulling her into this abyss. The sex had been so good—too good—her mind drifting back to him unbidden, replaying every thrust, every squeeze, every shuddering climax. Her skin prickled at the memory, nipples hardening beneath her t-shirt, pussy tingling with an echo of his cum still inside her. She despised herself for it—for not being strong enough to stop him, to stop herself. Her hands clenched the sheets, nails digging in as she imagined the fallout—if their parents found out, if her husband knew—the family would fracture, her life would collapse. She hated Rupesh for starting it, for planting the seed that had bloomed into this chaos. But beneath the hate, beneath the guilt, her body ached for him—a traitor’s longing she couldn’t silence.

Tears streamed down her face, hot and endless, as she cried helplessly—lost, torn, unable to untangle the mess of desire and dread. Her sobs grew ragged, chest heaving, throat raw from the silent screams she couldn’t release. The exhaustion hit hard—the sex, the crying, the war inside her draining every ounce of strength. She collapsed fully onto the bed, face buried in the damp pillow, body limp and spent—her pussy still faintly pulsing, a cruel reminder of their sin. Darkness crept in, merciful and heavy, and she passed out—tears drying on her cheeks, dreams flickering with Rupesh’s hands, his heat, the pleasure she couldn’t unlearn.

[story_reeder]

The clock struck six, shadows lengthening across the house as a soft knock rapped on Rupesh’s door. He stirred from his fitful nap, the remnants of Arpita’s tears and his own ecstasy still swirling in his mind. “Uncle, park chalo!” Yuvan’s voice chirped through the wood, bright and insistent. Rupesh groaned, dragging himself upright—his body heavy, mind foggy from the whirlwind of their afternoon. He stumbled to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face, the shock of it jolting him awake. His reflection stared back—eyes shadowed, lips still tingling with the ghost of her taste. He shook it off, forcing a smile as he opened the door to his nephew’s eager grin. “Alright, beta, let’s go,” he said, voice rough but warm, ruffling the kid’s hair as they headed downstairs.

His parents were in the living room, coats on, ready to join Yuvan at the park. His mother glanced up, concern creasing her brow. “Arpita’s not well—still in her room with a headache. Could you grab some tablets from the pharmacy on your way back?” she asked, handing him a few crumpled notes. Rupesh nodded, chest tightening at her name—a flicker of her trembling form flashing through his mind—but he masked it with a curt, “Sure, Ma.” He let Yuvan skip off with his grandparents, their chatter fading down the street, then turned toward the pharmacy, the errand a welcome distraction from the chaos inside him. The evening air was cool, brushing his skin as he walked, but it couldn’t cool the heat still simmering in his veins—her pussy, her moans, her cum-soaked surrender replaying in an endless, erotic loop.

At the pharmacy, he grabbed the headache pills, the clerk’s casual chatter a dull hum against his thoughts. He paid and headed back, the small packet crinkling in his hand as he climbed the stairs to Arpita’s room. His knuckles hesitated at her door—heart thudding, a mix of dread and longing twisting his gut—before tapping softly. The lock clicked, and the door swung open, revealing her. Arpita stood there, still in her pajamas and t-shirt, hair mussed, eyes red-rimmed from crying. The sight of him hit her like a lightning bolt—her face blanching, lips parting in a silent gasp of shock. She thought he’d come for more—to fuck her again, to pull her back into that abyss—and panic flared. “It was a mistake,” she blurted, voice sharp and trembling. “Please, leave me.”

Her words cut deeper than he’d expected, a reprimand laced with accusation. “You forced me into it,” she snapped, her gaze hard but shimmering with unshed tears. The sting of it—her blaming him—pricked his eyes, and he blinked back the burn, swallowing hard. “No, I—” he started, voice cracking, but she didn’t let him finish. He thrust the tablets forward, hands shaking slightly. “Ma asked me to get these for your headache,” he explained, soft and earnest, tears glistening as he met her stare. She froze, the fight draining from her as she registered the truth—his errand, not his intent. Her fingers brushed his as she took the pills, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver racing up his spine, reigniting the memory of her skin under his. Without a word, she stepped back and shut the door—firm, final—leaving him staring at the wood, chest hollow and aching.

Dinner came hours later, the family gathered around the table—plates clinking, voices murmuring, a facade of normalcy that felt brittle to Rupesh. Arpita emerged, pale and subdued, her saree dbangd modestly now, masking the body he’d worshipped. Their parents fussed over her. “Are you okay, beti?” her mother asked, brow furrowed. “Just a headache and body pain,” Arpita murmured, voice flat, eyes fixed on her plate. Her father leaned in, concern deepening. “Should I take you to the hospital?” She shook her head quickly. “No, Papa—I’ll be fine by morning.” Her tone was dismissive, a lie wrapped in exhaustion, and Rupesh’s stomach twisted—he knew the real ache, the one she couldn’t name.

He avoided her gaze, focusing on his food—rice, dal, anything to keep his eyes from drifting to her. Every glance risked betrayal, risked sparking those memories—her breasts in his mouth, her pussy pulsing under his tongue. He chewed mechanically, jaw tight, willing his mind to stay blank. Arpita mirrored him, acting as if he didn’t exist—her movements deliberate, her silence a wall. But inside, she was ablaze. His presence, just across the table, stirred her—a phantom heat licking at her core. She remembered his oral assault—his lips sucking her clit, his tongue burrowing into her, the way he’d devoured her pussy with a hunger that left her shattered. Her thighs pressed together under the table, a futile shield against the flush creeping up her chest, her pussy tingling with the echo of that pleasure. She didn’t show it—face a mask of calm, hands steady as she spooned food—but inside, she burned, flushed with a secret she couldn’t confess.

The meal dragged on, each bite a chore, the air thick with unspoken tension. When it ended, they all dispersed—parents to their room, Yuvan trailing off to sleep, Rupesh and Arpita retreating to their separate sanctuaries. She climbed the stairs first, her saree swishing softly, and he followed at a distance—eyes on the floor, resisting the urge to watch the sway of her hips, the curve of her back he’d gripped so fiercely. She slipped into her room without a glance, the door clicking shut like a guillotine. He entered his own, locking it again, the silence swallowing him whole. Stripping to his shorts, he collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling—her taste still on his tongue, her scent in his nose, her sobs in his ears. Exhaustion tugged, but arousal lingered—a restless, aching thread tying him to her, even now.

Arpita, alone again, shed her saree, slipping back into her pajamas—loose, unassuming, a shield against her own skin. She sank onto the bed, curling into a ball, the day’s weight pressing down. Her pussy still hummed, a faint pulse of memory—his tongue lapping at her, his shaft stretching her, his cum spilling inside. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing it away, but her body betrayed her—nipples hardening against the t-shirt, a damp heat blooming between her thighs. She hated it, hated him, hated herself—but the pleasure clung, a seductive specter she couldn’t banish. Sleep came slow, fitful—dreams flickering with his hands, his heat, the ecstasy she’d never unlearn, leaving her restless and lost in the dark.

[story_reeder]

After dinner, the house settled into a quiet hum, the clatter of dishes fading as everyone retreated to their rooms. Arpita tucked Yuvan into her bed, his small form curling up beside her, breaths softening into sleep. She watched him for a moment, the innocence of his face a stark contrast to the storm raging inside her. Exhaustion lingered, but so did the restlessness—she slipped out of her saree, shedding the weight of the day, and changed into a loose t-shirt and shorts. No bra, no panties—just the soft fabric brushing her skin, her nipples faintly pressing against the cotton, her bare thighs exposed to the cool air. She crawled back into bed beside her son, hoping sleep would claim her again, but her mind churned—Rupesh’s touch, his guilt-soaked exit, the pleasure still echoing in her pussy—keeping her tethered to wakefulness. Eventually, her eyes fluttered shut, and she drifted off, a shallow, fractured slumber.

Across the hall, Rupesh was a prisoner of his own thoughts. Sleep eluded him, guilt gnawing at his insides like a relentless beast. He blamed himself—hated himself—for tainting the bond he’d always cherished with Arpita. She was his sister, his confidante, and he’d ruined it with his lust, his weakness. The memory of her tears, her whispered accusation—“What did you make me do?”—cut deeper than any knife. He tossed in bed, sheets tangling around his legs, his shorts riding up as he shifted. Finally, he gave up—flicking off the lights, plunging his room into darkness, and dragging himself to his PC. The glow of the screen bathed him in blue as he loaded a game, fingers tapping the keys, desperate to drown out the shame with mindless distraction. Explosions and music buzzed through his headphones, but beneath it all, her face lingered—flushed, moaning, then sobbing—a haunting reel he couldn’t pause.

Midnight crept in, the house silent save for the faint creak of settling wood. Arpita stirred awake, throat parched, a dry ache tugging her from sleep. She frowned, realizing she’d forgotten to bring a water bottle after dinner—a small oversight that now loomed large in the stillness. Yuvan slept on, undisturbed, as she slipped out of bed, bare feet padding softly against the floor. Her t-shirt hung loose, swaying with each step, the hem brushing her thighs, her shorts clinging lightly to her hips. The fridge hummed downstairs, and she moved through the dark, guided by memory—down the stairs, into the kitchen. The cold bottle felt like a lifeline in her hand as she grabbed it, the chill seeping into her palm. She took a long sip, water soothing her throat, then headed back up, bottle clutched close, her bare skin prickling in the night’s cool draft.

Back in her room, she set the bottle by the bed and tried to settle—curling beside Yuvan, eyes tracing the shadows on the ceiling. But sleep wouldn’t come. She’d napped too long that afternoon, and now her body buzzed—restless, unsettled, alive with the day’s echoes. She reached for a book on her nightstand, flipping pages under the dim glow of a bedside lamp, words blurring as her mind wandered back to Rupesh—his tongue on her clit, his shaft inside her, the forbidden thrill that had shattered her resolve. Frustration gnawed at her—hours ticked by, and still, no peace. Finally, she tossed the book aside, a quiet huff escaping her lips. Fresh air—she needed it, craved it. The terrace called, a sanctuary under the open sky.

She moved silently, careful not to wake Yuvan, and crept to the terrace door—old, rusted, stubborn. Her fingers gripped the handle, easing it open, but the hinges protested with a sharp, metallic screech that pierced the silence. She froze, heart lurching, eyes darting to Rupesh’s window across the way. Darkness stared back—no flicker of light, no sign of movement—and she exhaled, relieved. He must be asleep, she thought, unwilling to face him, to risk stirring the embers of their sin. Stepping out, she closed the door behind her, the cool night air washing over her like a balm. The full moon hung heavy in the sky, casting a silver glow over the terrace, painting her in soft, ethereal light. She breathed deep, the crispness filling her lungs, easing the tightness in her chest.

Without innerwear, the breeze danced over her skin—slipping under her t-shirt, teasing her bare breasts, her nipples hardening as the fabric shifted against them. It kissed her thighs, slipped between her legs, brushing her uncovered pussy through the thin shorts—a sensation so intimate, so freeing, it sent a shiver racing up her spine. She leaned against the railing, gazing at the moonlit night, letting the air soothe her frayed nerves. But peace was fleeting—anger simmered beneath it, hot and restless. She was furious—at herself for succumbing, at Rupesh for igniting it. Her emotions churned, bottled up tight, a pressure she couldn’t release. Her pussy tingled faintly, an unbidden memory of his mouth on her—sucking, lapping, devouring—flashing through her mind. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms, fighting the flush creeping up her neck.

Inside, Rupesh heard the screech—sharp, unmistakable—and paused his game, headphones slipping down. Someone was on the terrace. He didn’t care at first—too wrapped in his guilt, his game—but then a thought flickered: Arpita. His heart thudded, a mix of dread and longing twisting his gut. He wanted to talk to her, to apologize, to mend the rift he’d torn between them. She was his only sibling, his closest ally, and losing her was a wound he couldn’t bear. He yanked off the headphones, abandoning the glowing screen, and stood—barefoot, clad only in his shorts, chest bare under the faint sheen of sweat from hours of restless gaming. His cock twitched faintly, a traitor’s response to her name, but he shoved it down, resolve hardening. He had to make this right.

He crept to his door, easing it open, and stepped onto the terrace—moonlight spilling over him, casting long shadows as he moved. The night was still, the air cool against his skin, and there she was—leaning on the railing, bathed in silver, her silhouette a quiet, haunting beauty that stole his breath. Her t-shirt clung lightly to her curves, shorts hugging her hips, and he knew—God, he knew—she wore nothing beneath. The thought alone sent a pulse of heat through him, his cock stirring despite his guilt, his intent. He paused, heart pounding, torn between retreat and the desperate need to reach her—to speak, to heal, to reclaim the sister he’d lost in their fire.

[story_reeder]

The terrace stretched out under the full moon’s silver glow, the night air cool and still as Rupesh took a tentative step forward, his bare feet whispering against the concrete. “Arpita…” he called softly, voice low and thick with a tangle of guilt and longing, cutting through the silence like a plea. She froze at the sound—her name on his lips a jolt that snapped her head around, eyes wide with shock. She hadn’t expected him awake, hadn’t braced for his presence, and seeing him approach—shirtless, shorts clinging to his hips, moonlight carving shadows over his chest—rattled her to her core. Her heart thudded, a chaotic rhythm of rage and something deeper, something she refused to name. “Leave,” she snapped, voice sharp and trembling, fury rising like a shield. “Get out of here, Rupesh.”

He stopped, breath hitching, her words slicing through him. Tears welled in his eyes—hot, sudden—and spilled over, tracing glistening paths down his cheeks. “I didn’t force you, Arpita,” he choked out, voice breaking, raw with desperation. “I swear—I didn’t.” She stood rigid, the cool breeze teasing her bare skin beneath the t-shirt and shorts, her nipples stiffening traitorously against the fabric. She knew the truth—he hadn’t forced her, not entirely. She’d kissed him back, moved beneath him, pulled him inside her—but admitting that meant cracking open a door she couldn’t close. Letting him off the hook risked fanning the embers still smoldering between them, tempting him to reach for her again. No—she had to push back, make him bear the weight, keep him at bay. Offense was her armor.

“You forced me,” she accused, voice rising, sharp as a blade. “You forced me to indulge your sick fantasy of fucking your own sister.” She stepped closer, eyes blazing, moonlight glinting off the tears she refused to shed. “Have you fulfilled it now, Rupesh? Your twisted dream of screwing me?” Her words were venom, each one a lash meant to sting, to drive him away. “Get out of here—now.” The accusation hit him like a thunderbolt—shock widening his eyes, then crumpling his face as a sob tore free. “I always loved you, Arpita,” he whimpered, tears streaming, voice a fragile thread. “It wasn’t a fantasy—I love you. I’d never hurt you. I’d kill myself before I even thought of it. I’d sacrifice my life to protect you.” His knees buckled, and he sank to the floor before her, head bowed, hands trembling at his sides. “I’m so sorry for this afternoon—I thought you liked me too. If you don’t want me here, I’ll leave—I’ll flee the house, anything. Just please—forgive me, Arpita. I don’t want to lose you, my sister. Don’t hate me.”

His plea—raw, brotherly, laced with a love she’d always known—pierced her defenses, striking a chord deep within. She felt a pang of guilt for wounding him, for twisting the truth to shield herself. Deep down, she knew—she’d wanted him that afternoon, craved his touch, his cock inside her, his mouth feasting on her pussy. His apology stirred the memories—his tongue lapping at her clit, sucking her slick folds, the way he’d devoured her with a hunger that shattered her world. Her body betrayed her now, trembling with a shiver of excitement that raced down her spine. Her pussy clenched, a rush of wetness soaking her shorts as she stood there, bare beneath the thin fabric, the cool breeze teasing the dampness between her thighs. Her nipples ached, pressing harder against the t-shirt, and she broke—tears spilling over, hot and helpless, as her resolve crumbled under the weight of her own desire.

Rupesh saw her cry—her face glistening in the moonlight, lips quivering—and it gutted him. His own tears flowed faster, all the filthy lust draining from his mind, replaced by a desperate need to comfort her. She was Arpita—his sister, his heart—and her pain was his. Still on his knees, he shuffled forward, hands reaching for her hips, wrapping around her lower body in a tight, grounding hug. His cheek pressed against her stomach, the soft fabric of her t-shirt warm against his skin, her scent—faintly sweet, tinged with the musk of their earlier sin—filling his lungs. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice muffled against her, arms squeezing her hips as if he could hold her together. “I’m so sorry, Arpita—I didn’t mean it. Forgive me, please.” He repeated it, a litany of regret, his tears soaking into her shirt as he clung to her, seeking absolution.

Her hands hovered, trembling, unsure—wanting to push him away, wanting to pull him closer. His touch—firm, warm, possessive—sent a ripple of heat through her, stirring the embers she’d tried to bury. She felt his breath against her belly, the press of his face so close to where her pussy throbbed, wet and aching beneath the shorts. The memory flared—his mouth on her cunt, sucking her dry, tongue curling inside her—and her knees weakened, a soft gasp escaping as her body reacted, hips shifting faintly in his grasp. She hated it—hated how he unraveled her, how her skin flushed, her pussy pulsed, even now. Tears streamed down her face, a mirror to his, and she sobbed—helpless, caught between rage and the forbidden thrill his nearness sparked.

The breeze swept over them, cool against her heated skin, slipping under her t-shirt to tease her bare breasts, her nipples straining against the fabric with an ache that matched the one between her legs. She stood there, pinned by his hug, his hands splayed over her hips—fingers brushing the tops of her thighs, so close to where she burned. Her shorts clung to her dampness, the lack of panties leaving her exposed, vulnerable, every gust of air a caress that heightened her awareness of him. “Rupesh…” she whispered, voice breaking, a plea or a curse—she didn’t know. His apologies washed over her, his tears dampening her shirt, and she trembled—torn between the sisterly love she still felt and the erotic pull she couldn’t shake, her body alive with a need she couldn’t voice under the moonlit sky.

[story_reeder]

Rupesh’s sobs mingled with hers, a shared symphony of anguish and need echoing across the terrace. Her hands rested on his head, fingers trembling as they brushed his hair—tentative, caught between pushing him away and pulling him closer. He clung to her hips, face pressed against her stomach, tears soaking her t-shirt as he poured out his regret. “I fell in love with you the day I saw you in that pink saree,” he confessed, voice raw and broken, each word a shard of his soul laid bare. “Every time I thought of you in ways I shouldn’t, I cursed myself—told myself it was wrong. But in your room… Arpita, I lost control. Your softness, your body—it overwhelmed me. I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again—never again. Please don’t avoid me after this. I just want us to go back to how we were. Don’t hate me, please.” His breath spilled warm against her stomach, a steady rhythm that seeped through the fabric, stirring a heat she couldn’t quell.

Her pussy trembled at his words—his confession of her beauty, the softness he’d craved—his hands hugging her hips igniting a pulse deep within. The cool breeze swept around them, kissing her bare skin beneath the t-shirt and shorts, teasing her nipples into tight peaks, slipping between her thighs to brush her uncovered folds. She stopped crying, breath steadying, but inside, a war raged—her mind battling to suppress the memories of their forbidden fucking, his mouth on her cunt, his shaft inside her. Her hands moved slowly through his hair, a gentle caress she couldn’t stop, even as she fought the sinful thoughts creeping in—his tongue lapping her clit, his strength pinning her down. His breath warmed her stomach, a tender contrast to the night’s chill, and her body shivered—not from cold, but from the electric pull of him so close.

Rupesh felt it—the faint tremor running through her—and paused, concern cutting through his tears. “Are you okay?” he asked, voice soft as he leaned up from his knees, tilting his head to search her face. Moonlight bathed her—her eyes glistening, lips parted—and she looked down at his voice, but it was as if her ears had gone deaf, her mind shutting down under a tidal wave of carnal desire. His mouth—so close—moved, but she didn’t hear the words. All she saw was that mouth, the one that had pleasured her pussy that afternoon, sucking her dry, driving her to ecstasy. Her knees weakened, drained from crying, from fighting her own demons, and she pulled back—resting her back against the railing wall, needing the solid support to steady her faltering resolve.

Her retreat shifted his grip—his hands sliding from her lower back to her buttocks, palms cupping the soft, plush mounds through her shorts; his head slipping from her stomach to hover over her pelvis. The motion was unintentional, a byproduct of her movement, but it sent a jolt through them both. He adjusted, rising slightly to avoid further awkwardness, his chest brushing her thighs as he straightened. Yet in that split-second shift, his hands felt her—bare beneath the shorts, no panties to shield the tender flesh—and her pussy dripped, sensing his breath so near, so warm against her core. Her body reacted—wetness seeping through the thin fabric, a shiver racing up her spine as the breeze balanced his heat with its relentless chill, teasing her exposed skin into a heightened state of awareness.

She clenched her jaw, fighting to control the surge—determined to flee back to her room, to escape the pull of him before it consumed her again. His hands on her ass, the softness he’d felt, had stirred him—his cock twitching faintly in his shorts, a subtle, involuntary turn-on he couldn’t suppress. Sensing her tension, he moved his head slowly against her stomach, a gentle nuzzle meant to comfort, but it inflamed her instead. Her hands, still in his hair, reacted—pushing his head away with a sudden, desperate shove, breaking the contact. He felt the pressure, the rejection, and pulled back—hands lifting from her buttocks, head retreating, leaving her cold in his absence. The breeze swept in, chilling her where his warmth had been, and her body yearned—ached—to have him back, to reclaim the heat she’d lost.

Her resolve wavered, hands still tangled in his hair, and in a flash of weakness, she pulled him back—hard, sudden, dragging his face down until it landed between the joints of her legs. His hands flew to her thighs, gripping the bare skin as his nose brushed her shorts, catching the faint, intoxicating scent of her pussy juices—rich, familiar, a memory of the afternoon etched into his senses. Instinct took over—his mouth moved, lips parting wide to press against her cunt through the fabric, sucking at the dampness with a hunger he couldn’t leash. His hands pushed her legs apart, thumbs digging into her inner thighs, spreading her open as he devoured her over the shorts—teeth grazing, tongue pressing, pulling as much of her into his mouth as the barrier allowed. “Rupesh!” she gasped, voice a shocked, breathy cry—stunned by the sudden attack, the strength that shattered her fragile control.

Her pussy pulsed beneath his assault, wetness soaking through the shorts, slick and hot against his lips. She’d fought so hard—clenched her mind, her body—but this broke her. His mouth was relentless—wide, greedy, sucking her cunt with a force that sent tremors racing through her core. Her hands tightened in his hair, torn between pushing him off and pulling him deeper, her thighs quivering as the breeze kissed her exposed skin, amplifying every sensation. His nose pressed against her clit through the fabric, inhaling her arousal—a scent that drove him wild—while his tongue worked, lapping at the dampness, tasting her through the thin layer. Her shorts clung to her folds, outlining them for his mouth, and he groaned against her—a low, primal sound that vibrated into her flesh, igniting a fire she couldn’t douse.

She stood there, pinned against the railing, legs spread by his hands, his face buried between her thighs—moonlight spilling over them, casting their sin in silver. Her t-shirt rode up slightly, baring her stomach to the cool air, her nipples aching beneath the fabric as her body arched, reacting to his relentless hunger. Every suck, every press of his lips sent a jolt through her—her pussy clenching, dripping, yearning for more despite her shock, despite her guilt. She couldn’t think—couldn’t fight—the strength of his desire overwhelming her, dragging her back into the abyss she’d sworn to escape, her voice lost in a sea of trembling breaths under the night sky.

Rupesh’s mouth devoured her pussy through the thin shorts, lips wide and ravenous, sucking at the damp fabric with a hunger that bordered on worship. His hands roamed her buttocks, rolling the soft, plush mounds in his palms—fingers kneading, squeezing, lifting her flesh as if to claim every inch. Arpita’s body responded before her mind could catch up—her pelvis thrusting forward, pressing her mound harder into his mouth, a silent plea for more. He felt her movement, the subtle grind of her hips, and intensified his assault—tongue pressing through the shorts, tracing her slit, tasting the faint tang of her juices seeping through. His head tilted upward, eyes darting to her face—her eyes were closed, lashes trembling, lips twitching in strange, silent shapes—confirmation that she wanted this as badly as he did. Emboldened, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her shorts and yanked them down—baring her completely—and she didn’t resist, didn’t flinch, just let them pool at her ankles under the silver moonlight.

Her bare cunt glistened before him—pink, puffy, dripping with arousal—and he dove in, mouth sealing over her with a voracious greed. His lips enveloped her outer labia, sucking gently at first, pulling the swollen folds into his wet heat, drinking the flood of juices that coated his tongue—a rich, musky sweetness that drove him wild. He groaned against her, the vibration humming into her core, and she shivered, thighs quaking as he worked. His tongue flicked out, tracing the edges of her outer lips—long, slow laps that teased the sensitive skin, mapping every curve with meticulous care. He parted her with his thumbs, spreading her wider, exposing her inner labia—delicate, glistening petals that begged for his attention. He kissed them tenderly, lips brushing the tender flesh, then sucked them into his mouth—pulling, tugging, savoring their softness as her juices flowed faster, slicking his chin.

Noticing her pelvis rocking, he shifted—tongue flattening against her slit, dragging upward in a broad, firm stroke from her entrance to her clit, flipping it at the end with a quick, playful flick that made an audible, wet smack against her juices. The sound—lewd, primal—sent a shiver racing up her spine, snapping her eyes open. She looked down, breath hitching as she watched him—his face buried between her thighs, tongue dancing over her pussy, eyes dark with devotion. He caught her gaze and doubled down—lips locking onto her clit, sucking the swollen nub into his mouth with a gentle, pulsing pressure. He rolled it between his lips, tongue swirling around it in tight, wet circles—clockwise, then counter—varying the rhythm to keep her trembling. Her clit pulsed under his touch, engorged and slick, and he teased it further—flicking it side to side with the tip of his tongue, fast and light, then pressing down hard, flattening it against her pubic bone to grind out a deeper, slower pleasure.

She wanted this—needed it—every ounce of this forbidden bliss she could wring from him. Her hands tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him deeper as he explored her pussy with an artist’s precision. He pulled back from her clit, lips trailing down to her inner labia again—sucking each fold in turn, nibbling gently with his teeth, a graze that blurred pain into pleasure. His tongue darted to her entrance, circling the tight, dripping hole—slow, deliberate laps that traced the rim, tasting her essence fresh from the source. Then he plunged in—tongue stiffening, thrusting inside her as deep as he could reach, curling upward on the way out to drag against her inner walls. Her pussy clenched around him, a greedy pull that made him groan, the sound reverberating into her core as he fucked her with his tongue—slow, then fast, mimicking the rhythm of his earlier thrusts.

Arpita’s mind reeled—she was addicted, helplessly hooked on this pleasure, a realization that hit her like a tidal wave. Her husband had never touched her like this—never unlocked the raw, shuddering ecstasy Rupesh drew from her pussy with such effortless skill. The truth stung: only her little brother could give her this, could feast on her cunt with a hunger that left her trembling, undone. She wondered—half-dazed, half-aching—how he was so good at this art of lovemaking, this exquisite dance of lips and tongue that rewrote her body’s language. She’d fallen in love with it—uncontrollably, irrevocably—craving the forbidden high only he could deliver. For the first time, she cursed the gods, a bitter whisper in her soul: why had they made Rupesh her brother? Why was this so good—too good? Why was she addicted to his touch, his taste, the way he worshipped her?

He shifted again, lips returning to her clit—sucking it hard now, building a fierce vacuum that made her thighs quake. His tongue played a symphony—flicking the tip of her nub in rapid bursts, then flattening to lap at it broadly, then circling it with a slow, sensual drag. He nibbled it lightly—teeth grazing just enough to spark a jolt—before soothing it with a long, wet lick. His hands kneaded her buttocks, lifting her higher, angling her pussy into his mouth—fingers slipping into the crease, brushing the sensitive skin near her entrance as he sucked. He darted lower, tongue sweeping her perineum—a featherlight tease that made her gasp—then back to her hole, plunging in deep, curling to stroke her G-spot from within while his nose pressed her clit, inhaling her scent with every thrust.

The pleasure built—relentless, overwhelming—her pussy pulsing, juices flowing freely into his mouth as he drank her down. She couldn’t fight it—didn’t want to—her body surrendering to the tidal wave he unleashed. Her orgasm hit, a shattering crescendo that arched her back against the railing, hips bucking into his face as she came—hard, wet, a flood of cum coating his tongue. She clamped her mouth shut, stifling the moan that clawed at her throat—teeth sinking into her lip to keep it quiet, a muffled whimper escaping as her body shook. Her pussy clenched around his tongue, spasming with each wave, and he kept sucking—lapping her through it, drawing out every shudder, every drop, until she sagged against the railing, breathless and spent under the moon’s unblinking gaze.

Her hands loosened in his hair, trembling as she rode the aftershocks—her clit throbbing, her pussy dripping, her mind a haze of bliss and guilt. She’d wanted it—craved it—and now she knew: she was lost to this, to him, a prisoner of the pleasure only her brother could give.

[story_reeder]

Rupesh pulled back from her, his lips shiny from what they’d just done, lit up by the moonlight. He was breathing hard, looking up at Arpita, who stood out against the dark sky. Slowly, he moved his hand up her wet, shaky skin—fingers touching up and down her puffy parts, one last soft rub before he stopped. The air between them felt heavy, full of things they weren’t saying. “I love you, Arpita,” he whispered, his voice quiet but serious, like he meant it more than anything. His dark eyes looked into hers, searching for something—maybe a sign she felt the same way.

Arpita stared down at him, her chest moving fast as she tried to catch her breath. Her skin was still warm from what he’d done, her body still shaking a bit from the pleasure. She couldn’t find words—her throat felt tight, her mind spinning with too many feelings. In that moment, as they locked eyes, she knew: she couldn’t fight this anymore. The walls she’d built, the promises she’d made, the family rules—they all broke under his touch, his voice, his love. She was lost to him, and it scared her, but it also felt right.

He stood up slow, like he wanted to enjoy every second of getting closer to her. His bare chest brushed her t-shirt, sending a little shiver through her. His hands found her breasts, holding them through the fabric—squeezing gently, like they were something special he didn’t want to let go of. “I love you, Arpita,” he said again, his voice soft but full of need. Then he leaned in—real slow—and kissed her, starting light, like he was testing things out. The warmth of his mouth made her shiver, a feeling that went down to her stomach.

His tongue traced her lips, tasting her like she was something sweet. She opened her mouth a bit, letting him in, and his tongue slipped inside—finding hers, moving in a slow, easy dance. Their tongues touched—careful at first, then stronger, moving together like they’d always known how. He tasted like her—like what they’d just done—and it sent a thrill through her, reminding her where his mouth had been. Her hands went around his neck, fingers in his hair, holding him close as the kiss got deeper, hotter.

His hands slid from her breasts, down her sides to her waist, then lower—resting on her butt. Through her shorts, still bunched at her ankles, he grabbed her, squeezing the soft skin like he owned it. He pulled her closer, their bodies pressing tight—her chest squished against his, his warmth seeping through her shirt, making her nipples hard. She leaned into him, a quiet moan slipping out, lost in his mouth. Their tongues tangled—slow, like they had all the time in the world. The night around them faded—the wind, the far-off sounds—leaving just their breathing, the little noises they made as they kissed.

With him, Arpita felt something new: a flutter in her chest, a warmth that wasn’t just about wanting him. Her husband never made her feel this—sex with him was dull, just going through the motions. But with Rupesh, it was different. It felt like being young again, like falling in love for the first time—her heart racing, her skin buzzing. The way he kissed her—slow, like he loved every second—made her feel special, wanted in a way that hit her heart. Her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, kissing him harder as their tongues moved together, saying things they couldn’t speak.

They stood there, wrapped up in each other—her back against the railing, his body keeping her warm against the night air. His hands ran up and down her back, feeling her through the shirt, then down to her butt again, lifting her a little so she was on her toes. The way their bodies rubbed together—her chest against his, the slight push of his shorts against her leg—made the heat between them grow, but he didn’t try to go further. He was happy just kissing her, feeling her mouth on his, her breath mixing with his. The world felt small—just them, under the moon.

Time didn’t matter; minutes felt like forever as they explored each other’s mouths. He pulled back a bit, biting her lower lip softly, then licking it to make it better. She chased his mouth, not wanting to stop, and he kissed her again—taking her top lip between his, sucking gently, then kissing the side of her mouth, her jaw, the spot under her ear. His breath was warm on her neck, making her skin tingle. “Arpita…” he whispered, his voice rough with feeling, full of a need that matched the ache in her chest—a need not just for her body, but for all of her.

She turned her head, letting him kiss her neck—slow, with his mouth open, his tongue tasting her skin, feeling her pulse. Her hands moved down his back, nails scratching lightly, feeling his muscles tighten. He shivered, a quiet groan coming from his chest, and she smiled against his shoulder—liking that she could make him feel that way with just a touch. This was real romance—messy, passionate, something she’d never had before. With Rupesh, she felt alive, wanted, loved—and it scared her, but it also felt like home.

They kissed again, slower now—lips touching, tongues teasing, a back-and-forth that left them breathless. His hands held her face, thumbs rubbing her cheeks, like she was something precious. She leaned into him, her body soft against his, every part of her tuned to his warmth. The wind blew around them, cool on their skin, but they didn’t care—too caught up in each other, in this moment they’d stolen. She knew it was wrong, but in his arms, it felt right—like they belonged together. For the first time, she let herself feel it all—the kiss, the romance, the love growing between them, fragile but strong, something they couldn’t ignore.

Their lips parted for a second, foreheads touching, breaths mixing. His nose bumped hers, and she felt him smile against her mouth—just like she was smiling. “I’ve always loved you,” he said softly, his voice shaky with everything he’d held in for so long. Her heart squeezed, a sweet pain filling her chest, and she kissed him again—lightly, quickly, like sealing a promise. They stood there, rocking a little, bodies close, hands moving softly—hers on his back, his in her hair. The kiss faded, then started again—a loop of connection that felt like it could go on forever, like the night was holding them in place, letting them have this.

Rupesh loosened the hook of his shorts. They slid down his legs with a quiet rustle, pooling at his feet, leaving him bare before Arpita. She stood there, her breath catching as her eyes traced his body—his broad shoulders, the lean muscle of his chest, and lower, where his erection stood proud, hard, and unapologetic. He stepped closer, pulling her into a tight hug, their bodies crashing together like waves against the shore. His skin was warm, almost burning against hers, and as they kissed, she felt it—his cock pressing into her stomach, a firm, insistent reminder of his nakedness.

Her lips parted under his, their tongues tangling in a slow, hungry dance. She could taste the urgency in him, the way his breath hitched as he deepened the kiss. Her hands hesitated, trembling with a mix of nerves and longing. She wanted to touch him, to wrap her fingers around that throbbing heat she could feel against her, but something held her back—maybe the weight of what they were doing, the line they were about to cross. Instead, her hands slid down his back, finding the firm curve of his buttocks. She squeezed, her fingers digging into the taut muscle, and damn, it felt good—solid and strong, like he was built for this moment.

Rupesh groaned into her mouth, the sound vibrating through her, and it sparked something wild in him. His hands moved with purpose, sliding up her sides to cup her breasts through her t-shirt. He didn’t hold back—his fingers kneaded her flesh, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure, his thumbs brushing over her nipples until they hardened beneath the fabric. Arpita gasped, her body arching into his touch, excitement flooding her like a tidal wave. Every squeeze sent a jolt straight between her legs, her pussy clenching with need. Whatever hesitation she’d had? Gone. Burned away by the heat of his hands, the way he wanted her.

She pulled her hands from his ass, bold now, and wrapped them around his shaft. It was hot in her grip, pulsing with life, the skin silky smooth over the hardness beneath. She stroked him once, twice, feeling him twitch under her fingers, and Rupesh broke the kiss, his head tipping back just enough to watch her hands on his cock. His eyes were dark, almost black with desire, and when he looked at her, his voice came out rough, raw. “I love you,” he said, the words spilling out like a confession he couldn’t hold back. Then his lips were on hers again, crashing down with a passion that stole her breath—deep, desperate, his tongue plunging into her mouth like he needed to taste every inch of her.

His hands didn’t stop moving. They found the hem of her t-shirt, tugging it up, and Arpita didn’t even think—she just lifted her arms, letting him peel it off her in one smooth motion. The cool air hit her bare skin, but it was nothing compared to the fire between them. Now they were both naked, exposed, vulnerable, and it felt right. Rupesh’s eyes roamed her body—her full breasts, the dip of her waist, the soft curve of her hips—and she could see it in his face: he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. Maybe more.

“I love you so much, Arpita,” he murmured between kisses, his lips brushing hers, then her jaw, then back to her mouth. “You don’t even know.” Each word was a spark, igniting her further, and she kissed him back with everything she had, her hands sliding up his chest, feeling the thud of his heartbeat under her palms.

Then his hands were on her hips, strong and sure, and he lifted her like she weighed nothing. Arpita knew what he wanted, what she needed to do. She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles behind him, her pussy brushing against his stomach as she clung to him. Their kiss didn’t falter—not even for a second—as he carried her toward the bed, his steps steady despite the way their bodies pressed together, skin sliding against skin. Her breasts flattened against his chest, her nipples grazing him with every movement, and she could feel his cock bobbing beneath her, so close to where she ached for it.

They reached the bed, and Rupesh didn’t waste a moment. He dropped her gently onto the mattress, the springs creaking under her weight, and positioned himself between her legs. He stood there for a heartbeat, towering over her, his cock jutting out, glistening at the tip. Arpita’s thighs fell open naturally, her body begging for him, and she looked up at him—her breath ragged, her skin flushed, her pussy wet and ready. He bent down, his hands bracing on either side of her head, and kissed her again, slow and deep, his tongue stroking hers like a promise. Then, in one fluid motion, he pushed into her—his shaft sliding inside her, filling her completely.

She moaned into his mouth, the sound muffled but raw, her body arching off the bed as he buried himself to the hilt. It was overwhelming—the stretch, the heat, the way he fit inside her like he was made for her. Her hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging in as she clung to him, her legs wrapping tighter around his hips to pull him deeper. Rupesh groaned, his breath hot against her lips, and he held still for a moment, letting her adjust, letting them both feel it—the forbidden connection, the way their bodies locked together like puzzle pieces.

Then he started to move. Slow at first, pulling out almost all the way before sliding back in, each thrust deliberate, teasing, drawing out the pleasure. Arpita’s head fell back, her lips parting as soft gasps escaped her. “Rupesh,” she breathed, his name a plea, a prayer, and it spurred him on. His hips snapped harder, faster, the rhythm building as he fucked her with a passion that felt almost desperate—like he needed to prove something, to her, to himself, to the world that wanted to keep them apart.

The bed rocked beneath them, the headboard tapping the wall in time with his thrusts. Her pussy gripped him, slick and tight, every slide of his cock sending waves of heat through her. He bent lower, his lips finding her neck, sucking and biting as his hands roamed her body—gripping her hips, then her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers until she whimpered. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growled against her skin, his voice thick with lust and love. “I’ve dreamed about this, about you.”

Her hands slid down his back, tracing the flex of his muscles as he moved, then lower to grab his ass again, pulling him into her with every thrust. “Don’t stop,” she begged, her voice breaking. “Please, I need you.” And he didn’t—he couldn’t. His pace quickened, his cock plunging deeper, hitting that spot inside her that made her see stars. The room filled with the sounds of their lovemaking—the wet slap of skin, their ragged breaths, the little moans she couldn’t hold back.

The pressure built inside her, tight and hot, coiling in her belly. She could feel it coming, unstoppable, and when he angled his hips just right, thrusting hard and deep, she shattered. Her orgasm ripped through her, her pussy clenching around him, pulsing as she cried out—his name, a curse, something incoherent. Her body shook, her thighs trembling around his hips, and Rupesh groaned, feeling her tighten, feeling her come undone beneath him.

He didn’t stop, couldn’t stop—his thrusts grew erratic, wild, chasing his own release. “Arpita,” he rasped, his voice raw, “I love you—I—” His words cut off as he slammed into her one last time, burying himself deep. She felt it—the hot rush of his cum filling her, his cock throbbing inside her as he came. The sensation pushed her over the edge again, a second orgasm crashing through her, softer but just as intense, her body milking him as they rode it out together.

For a long moment, they stayed like that—locked together, breathless, their bodies slick with sweat. Rupesh collapsed onto her, his weight grounding her, his face buried in the crook of her neck. His breath was hot against her skin, slowing as he came down, and he whispered again, softer now, “I love you.” Each word was heavy with meaning, laced with the passion they’d just shared, the forbidden line they’d crossed.

Arpita’s arms wrapped around him, holding him close, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his back. She could still feel him inside her, softening but still there, their cum mingling, warm and intimate. Her chest ached with a mix of love and guilt, but in that moment, the love won out—the way he’d poured himself into her, body and soul, left no room for doubt. They were one now, tangled in the afterglow, their hearts beating as fiercely as their bodies had moved.

The moonlight bathed them, soft and forgiving, as they lay there, basking in the quiet, the world outside forgotten. Whatever came next, they’d face it together—because this, this passion, this love, was theirs, no matter how forbidden it was.