Indian Incest Sex Stories: The Bhabhi's Secret Admirer

Shalini had always told herself that indian incest sex stories were just dirty internet fantasies, the kind of thing lonely women read at two in the morning and deleted from their browser history. She was thirty-two, married, respectable, and a school teacher with a timetable she followed to the minute. So when Karan's phone buzzed on the kitchen counter and the preview flashed "delhi_boy_26: bhabhi, aaj red wali saree mein kamaal lag rahi thi," her hand froze around the rolling pin. She had been getting those messages for a week, and the man standing two feet away with a screwdriver in his hand was the stranger who had been setting her phone on fire.

"Chakkar kya hai, Karan?" she said, holding up the phone so the screen faced him. His face went from brown to pale to red in about four seconds. "Bolo. Ye account tumhara hai?" Karan put the screwdriver down on the counter very carefully, the way a man handles something that might explode.

"Bhabhi, main explain kar sakta hoon," he said quickly, and she laughed, a short sharp sound that made him flinch.

"Explain? Tum mere devar ho. Mere pati ke chhote bhai. Aur tum mujhe raat ko message karte ho ki main saree mein kaisi lagti hoon?" She stepped closer, the rolling pin still in her hand, flour dusting her forearm. "Maa-Babuji Haridwar gaye hain, Arjun Bangalore mein hai, aur tumhe ye sujha?"

"Mujhe teen mahine se sujh raha hai, bhabhi," he said, and the honesty of it stopped her mid-step. "Jab se aapne us blue kurti mein sangeet mein dance kiya tha. Main bas... main himmat nahi kar paya face to face. Isliye ye stupid account banaya."

Shalini looked at him, really looked at him, twenty-six years old, shoulders broad from the gym he never talked about, eyes fixed on the floor like a scolded schoolboy. Something hot and forbidden uncoiled low in her stomach. She had spent a week rereading those messages in the bathroom with the door locked, her fingers doing what her husband hadn't done properly in months. "Tumne kal raat likha tha," she said slowly, "ki tum soch nahi paate ki main bistar mein kaisi hongi."

"Bhabhi..." His voice cracked.

"Jawaab do. Haan ya na?"

"Haan," he whispered. "Har raat sochta hoon."

Shalini put the rolling pin down. The kitchen smelled of tadka and hot ghee, the mixer grinder sat open and half-repaired between them, and her heart was hammering so loud she was sure he could hear it. "Theek hai," she said. "Aaj raat. Sirf aaj raat. Mere rules. Aur ye baat is ghar se bahar nahi jayegi, samjhe? Agar tumne kisi ko bataya, to main tumhara wo haal karungi ki tum Haridwar se wapas nahi aaoge."

Karan's eyes widened. "Aap... aap serious ho?"

"Tumhe kya lagta hai, main joke kar rahi hoon?" She untied her apron and let it fall to the floor. "Mixer kal theek kar lena. Abhi ke liye tumhare haath kahin aur chahiye."

He crossed the kitchen in two strides and stopped an inch from her, breathing hard. "Bhabhi, aap sure ho na?"

"Karan," she said, and grabbed the front of his t-shirt, pulling him down to her mouth. "Message mein to tum bahut bold the. Ab dikhao."

His mouth crashed into hers, hungry and clumsy at first, and she moaned into him, her hands sliding under his t-shirt to feel the hard ridges of his stomach. He tasted of chai and something young and desperate. She bit his lower lip and he groaned, his hands finally finding her waist, sliding up over the thin cotton of her blouse.

"Kitchen mein?" he breathed against her neck.

"Kitchen mein," she confirmed, and unbuttoned his jeans herself. "Tumne likha tha na, counter pe bithake... yaad hai?"

He lifted her onto the cold granite counter in one smooth motion, pushing the half-cut onions aside, and her saree pallu slipped off her shoulder. His mouth was on her neck, her collarbone, and then his fingers were working at her blouse buttons, clumsy and shaking. "Ruko," she whispered, and finished the last buttons herself, letting the blouse fall open. Her black bra strained against her breasts, and his eyes went dark.

"Bhabhi, aap... aap itni beautiful ho," he said, and she laughed softly and pulled his head to her chest.

"Chup. Aur kaam karo."

He unhooked her bra with surprising skill and her breasts spilled free, nipples already hard from the cold air and his staring. He took one in his mouth, sucking deep, and Shalini arched off the counter with a gasp, her fingers tangling in his hair. His other hand kneaded her other breast, thumb circling the nipple until she was squirming.

"Karan... neeche..." She hitched her saree up around her waist, and he dropped to his knees between her spread thighs, his breath hot against her through her panties. He hooked his fingers in the elastic and pulled them down her legs, and she kicked them off onto the kitchen floor.

When his tongue touched her, Shalini nearly screamed. He licked her slowly, learning her, his tongue circling her clit while his fingers slid inside her, and she was already wet, embarrassingly wet, dripping for her own devar. "Haan... aise hi... aur andar..." she gasped, riding his face, her hand pressed over her own mouth to keep quiet. His fingers curled inside her, finding the spot that made her thighs shake, and his tongue flicked faster, and she came with a muffled cry, her hips bucking against his mouth.

Before she could catch her breath, the pressure cooker on the stove let out a shrill whistle, and they both jumped, then burst out laughing, her forehead dropping to his shoulder. "Dal jal jayegi," she whispered, giggling, and turned the gas off with one hand while the other stayed buried in his hair.

"Bhabhi, aap haste hue aur bhi sexy lagti ho," he said, standing up, his jeans tented hard against her thigh.

"To phir bedroom mein chalo," she said, sliding off the counter, her blouse hanging open, saree bunched at her waist. "Wahan hasne ke liye time nahi milega."

He followed her down the corridor like a man in a trance, and the moment the bedroom door clicked shut, she pushed him back onto the bed and straddled his lap, grinding down on the hard bulge in his jeans. "Tumhare messages mein ek line thi," she said, unzipping him slowly. "Ki tum mujhe poori raat chhodoge nahi. Yaad hai?"

"Yaad hai," he groaned as her hand closed around him through his underwear, stroking.

She freed him, thick and hard and leaking at the tip, and wrapped her fingers around him, pumping slowly while he watched her with dazed eyes. "Bhabhi, please..."

"Please kya?" she teased, and then took him in her mouth, swirling her tongue around the head, and his whole body jerked. She sucked him deep, hollowing her cheeks, her hand working what her mouth couldn't take, and his fingers fisted in the bedsheets. "Bhabhi... main... main aa jaunga..."

She pulled off with a slick pop. "Abhi nahi. Pehle tum mujhe doge, phir main tumhe lungi. Ye mera rule hai."

She lay back on the bed, pulling him over her, and he settled between her thighs, the head of him pressing against her wet entrance. Their eyes locked, and for one heartbeat the whole forbidden weight of it hung between them, devar and bhabhi, her husband's brother, and then he pushed inside her in one long stroke and she cried out, her nails raking down his back.

"Oh God... Karan... itna... itna andar..." She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he started moving, slow deep thrusts that hit exactly where she needed. The bed creaked under them, and she bit his shoulder to muffle her moans.

"Bhabhi, aap itni tight ho," he panted, his rhythm faltering. "Main pagal ho jaunga."

"To ho jao," she breathed, and flipped them with surprising strength, pushing him onto his back and sinking down onto him, taking him to the root. She rode him hard, her breasts bouncing, her hands braced on his chest, and he stared up at her like she was a goddess. "Dekho mujhe," she commanded. "Message mein likha tha na, dekhna chahte ho. To dekho."

He sat up, wrapping his arms around her waist, and took her nipple in his mouth while she ground down on him, and the double sensation sent her spiraling. "Main aa rahi hoon... Karan... main aa rahi hoon..." She clenched around him, her climax ripping through her, and he groaned against her breast and flipped her onto her stomach, pulling her hips up.

He entered her from behind, one hand fisted in her hair, the other spanking her lightly, and Shalini screamed into the pillow. He pounded into her, deep and relentless, his balls slapping against her, and she pushed back against him, meeting every thrust. "Haan... aur zor se... apni bhabhi ko dikhao..." she begged, beyond shame, beyond everything.

"Bhabhi... main aa raha hoon..." His thrusts turned frantic, and she reached between her legs, rubbing herself fast, and they came together, his shout muffled against her neck as he emptied himself deep inside her, her body milking him with aftershocks that left them both trembling.

They collapsed onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs, breathing hard, the ceiling fan spinning lazily above them. After a long silence, Karan said quietly, "Bhabhi, wo account... main delete kar doon?"

Shalini stared at the ceiling, her body humming, her saree a ruined heap on the floor. "Kal kar dena," she said. "Aaj raat ke liye... ek last message bhej do. Likho: kal milte hain."

He propped himself up on one elbow, grinning like the twenty-six-year-old boy he was. "Aur agar main kal naya account bana loon?"

She turned her head, met his eyes, and smiled slowly, the smile of a woman who had just discovered exactly how much power she held. "To phir mujhe tumhe pakadna padega," she said. "Aur is baar rolling pin nahi hoga mere haath mein."