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- Nov 22, 2025
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- 298
The younger sister of my father who is thirty eight years, a government-school-teacher in a little Maharashtra village, and the only most intoxicating woman, of whom I have ever heard. Tall, and wheatish and glowing even in cheap tube-Lights, heavy breasts that achike every blouse she has on, a waist that curls down and out into hips and an ass so round and solid that it must have been chiseled. and her eyes, so dark, so kohl-lined, persistently smiling at some in-joke of which we are never made acquainted.
This year we were to walk over to pick her up at the railway station rather than have her ride in an auto-rickshaw, as Father insists. At five-thirty we drove out of house, the sky still smeared with night. I was sitting in the rear seat of our old maruti, which was half asleep with the air-con being off like normal. We shook life back to us by stopping at a roadside tea stall already swarmed with taxi drivers, the hiss of the kettle and the clang of the steel glasses piercing the silence. Father had had two of the special cutting chais, extra sweet, extra milky, extra ginger. I put my hands round the little glass and the heat sting of the glass hurt my skin as I gazed upon nothing, attempting not to think how the blouses of Aunt Aneeta had become even lower-cut last year.
At seven sharp we arrived at platform 4. The electronic board said DELAYED, 30 MINS. Father took a sigh and purchased a Marathi paper and disappeared within it. I was leaning against a pillar with earphones in my ear though the music was not playing, and my eyes were roving over all the women who got off the general coaches. My cock was half hard already in my jeans at the thought of it.
At 7:28 the train trailed at last. Coaches rattled by, S1, S2, S3.... I craned my neck toward S6. Nothing. Father made a frown, and folded his paper. Then a couple of tender hands all at once wrapped round the back of my eyes.
"Guess who, handsome?"
That voice, husky, gay, dripping with sin. I turned around and seen her she was. Aunt Aneeta. And except she had got down out of S9, not of S6. She had on a bottle-green tight salwar kameez, which she had loosely thrown on in such a way that half a breast was showing, and the deep cleft between them, shining with the tiniest hint of dew. Her mangalsutra was resting in that valley like it was part of it. She reeked of 501 soap and something still more musky below.
Some dirty uncle of S6 kept staring at my bosom the entire night, she laughed, in a way that Father did hear, and had to pretend not to. "I changed seats at Surat."
Father hugged her politely. I stood there like a dummy till she opened her arms to me. I stepped in. I had not found her body so soft and warm. Her heavy breasts shot into my bosom three whole seconds, more than enough time to say that those large points of her nipples were poking me through the fine cotton, when she released her hold with a tantalizing wink.
During the drive back she was sitting in the front with Father and turning around after every few minutes to talk to me. She turned each time and the seatbelt ripped between the breasts lifting them like a sacrifice. My mouth went dry.
At Annapurna Dhaba, we halted owing to the assertion by Father that he was starving. Really, he just wanted jalebi. Aneeta, who is my aunt, sat opposite me on a wooden bench. She kicked off her chappals under her table, and stretched her legs. One foot of hers brushed me on the shin, not intentional? then remained there, the arch just resting on my calf, as she licked the orange syrup off her fingers with slow and careful twists of tongue.
You have become so tall, Beta, she thought, and looked down at my lap, then back up. "And so... handsome."
I managed a croak. The waiter had to argue with Father over more rabri.
My balls pained by the time we got home.
The gate was waiting on mother and Priya. Priya who is two years older than I, and has just become engaged, with those sudden all curves and expert smiles of a woman, screamed and threw herself into the neck of Aunt Aneeta. They embraced as though it had been decades and not eleven months since they saw each other. I carried the big trunk bag inside, the wheels screeching along the foot of the courtyard-tilings, and attempted not to look about me at the sight of the situation of the tight salwar in which Aunt Aneeta was rocking her ass on the wheels.
Priya was on the first floor with her room adjacent to mine. And there Aunt Aneeta never left. I dragged the suitcase up the stairs where it was dripping my T-shirt. She was humming a Hindi movie song as she followed.
Within the room she had closed the door, not quite, but merely so far that it left ajar an inch, and bending over the suitcase, unlocked it. The kurti had slipped on revealing the small of her back, two cute dimples just over the waist of her salwar. The cloth was pulled over her ass. I was able to make out the line of panties, lacy. My cock stiffened instantly.
She knew I was watching. Of course she did.
Arre, come to ye with me, help thy poor aunty, said she without turning, voice syrupy.
I stepped forward. She sat up, and extended her smartwatch. "This thing keeps dying. Fix it for me?"
I drank it with trembling fingers. As I had been pushing with the settings, she went over again, deeper this time, digging deep into clothes. She wore a red bra, suspended by the fingers, and a black thong, the tiniest that was little more than a string. She stripped them on the bed, one at a time, in a striptease backward.
The watch alarm sounded, on full power. I held it out. She spun around and applied it and bent in close enough that I smelled toothpaste and a drop or two of the jasmine oil against her scalp.
Thank you, honey, thank you, she said to herself. then she kissed my cheek and, smack lips, it was intentional, the tip of her tongue skimmed my skin an inch or two. My knees nearly buckled.
She pulled back, eyes dancing. "Now run along. Aunty needs to bathe. It's so hot, isn't it?"
I fell up, sore in the cock, and made the coldest shower of my life.
In the afternoon father wanted coconuts that were tender. It was in the backyard, and right next to the old well. I scrambled up with the sickle, the sun smiting like a curse. Sweat poured into my eyes. Below, the back door opened. Aunt Aneeta came out, wet haired, in a thin white cotton kurti and no more clothing that I could see. No bra. Her plump breasts were wet fabric, her dark nipples easily exposed, hard with the cold water. She lifted her hands to braid her hair, and the kurt-top, revealing the lining of those gorgeous tits.
She gazed up at me and smiled and said with her mouth, Careful, beta.
I almost dropped off the tree.
The same evening she summoned me to the room. Priya was down assisting Mother in dinner. Aunt Aneeta was cross-legged on the bed wearing a peach nightie that stopped at the mid-thigh. She extended an oily black fountain pen.
For your studies, said she. "I noticed you like writing."
Our fingers brushed. The electric flowed into my groin.
Then her voice dropped. You were again looking at my breasts to-day, weren't you?
My face caught fire. "I, I'm sorry, mausi, "
"Shhh." She placed a finger on my lips. "It's natural. You're a young man. Hormones everywhere." The neckline was open and I had the complete view of those wonderful tits almost falling out. "But you must learn control. Good boys wait to be invited."
I would have much preferred to fall upon my knees and appeal. Instead I just nodded dumbly.
She smiled and rubbed me on the cheek and walked away to charge her cellphone and sent me away. My cock had ached the whole night.
The mockery became a day to day nightmare. She would bump into my crotch with her ass accidentally as she reached something in the kitchen. She would wear sarees so loose that the plumpness of her belly and the deep belly button would always be visible. and she would call me and pull up the back of her blouse where I could see the lacing of her bra, which was always in front, always lacy and then would kiss me, and brush the cheek closer and closer to the corner of my mouth.
Never, though, did she allow me to proceed. Whenever my hands had the temerity to touch she would move off with a tinkling laugh and a low murmur of, "Patience, beta."
Worse still was seeing her with Priya.
There was no more closeness as it had been before, this year. Secret smiles. Several years of closed-door gossip. Priya even began to dress in different ways, tight kurtis, no dupatta at home, even no bra. I would find them sitting in the bed in the position where the knees are touching and the hand of Aunt Aneeta is touching possessively the thigh of Priya.
One night the heat was too hot. The electricity was off; the inverter was not much more than two hours. I was lying awake with the ceiling fan switched off when I heard it, little giggles in the room of Priya, followed by a moan. Female. Unmistakable.
I slipped out of my room, unshod, and heart racing. The door was shut but not padlocked. There was a slender beam of radiance that spurted out at the bottom. I pressed my ear to the wood.
Another moan, less hortatory. Priya groped, choked, Auntie... please...
Then the husky voice of Aunt Aneeta: Shh, I want to taste you, my sweet girl.
The sounds that succeeded were wet. Rhythmic. A soft slap of flesh on flesh. I had a mental image of how beautiful the mouth of Aunt Aneeta was, stuck between the thighs of my sister and almost chased off my shorts in the corridor.
I do not know how much time I stayed frozen. Then panic had its way, what had some one seen me? I made my escape to the living room and banged the door, faking that I was returning to the house after an evening walk.
The door was opened by Aunt Aneeta several minutes later. That her lips were luminous, swollen. Two buttons of her kurti were unbuttoned; I could view the lacy side of a wine-red bra. She smelled of pussy.
Priya was asleep, she whispered, and brushed past me, making her breast touch my arm. "Go to bed, beta. Sweet dreams."
She did not at least trouble to conceal her smirk.
Father got away early to office and Mother to a kitty party the following morning. Our team lost the toss and the match was over in forty minutes, which was just to be at the cricket practice. I went home sweaty and irritable.
The minute I entered I heard it, loud naked moans down the stairs. The voice of Priya, rough and begging: Yes, Aunty... deeper... please do not stop....
My cock sprang to life. I crept upstairs like a thief. This time Priya left her door wide open, on purpose. I remained in the shades of the corridor.
The image was imprinted in my head.
Priya lay sprawling in the bed fully naked with her legs obscenely open with knees bent. Her breasts, which were fuller than I could have imagined, jumped with each thrust. Kneeling between her thighs was Aunt Aneeta, who was as naked as she was. The dildo was gigantic, sturdy, spotted, shiny with lubricant and Juice of Priya. The tits of Aunt Aneeta shook with her own pleasure of moving slowly and deliberately into my sister, one hand touching the nipple of Priya, the other stroking her clit in tight circles.
The eyes of Priya were closed in ecstasy, the mouth open, the drool shining on her chin. I am your little slut, Aunty... not another...
I was looked at by aunt Aneeta who was looking towards the door. Rather than halting, she smiled, gradual, sadistic, victorious, and accelerated. The sound of her hips banging together with those of Priya was more prominent and wet. Priya screamed, arching herself off the bed as she came, pussy tensing up on the fake cock in an obvious manner.
I must have made some sort of sound, when all of a sudden aunt Aneeta started to make a beck to me, using only one finger.
"Come here, beta. Watch properly."
I fell at a stumbling pace like a puppet. My cock was so hard it hurt.
The dildo gleamed as she withdrew out of Priya. Priya moaned at the emptiness. Aunt Aneeta sank in to me, with her breast heaving, and her nipples dark and rigid.
"You want to fuck, don't you?" she taunted softly. You want to push that little boy-cock between one of us?
I nodded, unable to speak.
She laughed. Actually laughed. Then she thrust two fingers into the dripping pussy of Priya, and scraped up a thick dollop of cream and smeared it over my lips.
"Taste what you'll never have."
It was smoky, drowsy, drunkening. I licked greedily. With a glittering contempt in her eyes she allowed me.
Then she mounted over the face of Priya, and dropped her shaved, dripping cunt down to the tongue of my sister. Priya moaned to her, hands on the ass of aunt Aneeta, sucking her down. Aunt Aneeta pulled her face, her hips rolling, her big tits bouncing, without ever looking at me again.
I was standing there with my cock leaking into my underwear, and my hands clenched at my sides, as the woman that I was worshipping, used my own sister to come to a release, without so much as looking at me.
As Aunt Aneeta entered it was with a guttural cry, with thighs shuddering round the head of the Priya, and with juices pouring down the mouth of my sister. gulp-gulp-gulp....
At that moment alone did Aunt Aneeta look up at me, flushed to utter satisfaction.
Pull down your pants, said she.
I obeyed instantly. My cock reared up, average, nothing in comparison with that monster dildo.
She stared at it and then at Priya and both of them erupted in laughter.
"See, darling?" Priya, stroked by Aunt Aneeta. "This is why I choose you. Women do not need little boys in real life.
Still licking her lips clean, Priya nodded adoringly.
Jerk off in your room, go on, aunt Aneeta, I said, taking a generous pinch of her hair. And shut the door on your parting.
I came as soon as my hand touched my cock sobbing in my pillow.
Then after two weeks all began tofall.
In the evening, Aunt Aneeta was called via phone, her parents were killed in a road accident. The house became gloomy immediately. She cried, she was comforted of us all, and yet, through the tears I read another thing, a relaxation, a sort of liberation in her eyes.
The casket was at the village; she had to go at once. When she was packing, her actions were swift, business-like. Priya hung around, and was red but also gleamed with something fierce and possessive.
As the taxi came, Aunt Aneeta embraced Mother, rubbed Father's feet, twisted my hair in the way it used to be when I was still ten years old. then with a long, tight hug she gave her on the porch itself, arms round each other, bodies touching, lips brushing in a kiss which lasted too many seconds before it was an aunt and niece.
I will miss you best of all, my sweet girl, I told myself, so that you could overhear me. Her hand went down the back of Priya and squirmed her ass, once.
Priya hugged her and the driver honked.
A taxi drove off and Priya stood there waving and finally the tears poured. I stood next her, dumb, traitor cock Cock half-hard-to-this-day.
She looked at me and wiped her eyes; and smiled, a new and confident smile, almost pitying.
Goodbye, said Aunt Aneeta, next summer. Then she went in, swinging her hips in the same enticing manner that Aunt Aneeta had shown her.
I stood and saw the taxi round the corner, and with cold assurance I realized that it was not to me that the forbidden fruit I had pursued all summer had been addressed. It had been already, slowly, thoroughly, and exclusively, swallowed by my own sister.
The house seemed to be very big and vacant. and my cock at last by way of softening.
