Indian Sali Sex Story: Arjun and Kavya's Secret Afternoon

They say every Indian sali sex story is just a fantasy men tell each other over drinks, until the day your own sali looks at you the way Kavya looked at me that Friday afternoon.

I had come home early. My boss had declared a half day because the office AC died in the May heat, and I reached our Bandra flat at half past two with my shirt stuck to my back. Meera was at her mother's place in Thane for the weekend. The flat was supposed to be empty.

It was not empty. The bathroom door was open and steam was rolling out, and Kavya was standing in front of the bedroom mirror in nothing but a towel, combing her wet hair.

She saw me in the mirror before I could step back. She did not scream. She did not cover herself. She smiled, slow and wicked, and said, "Jiju, aap? Aaj toh office hona chahiye tha aapko."

"AC kharab," I managed. "Tum yahan?"

"Meri PG mein paani nahi aa raha do din se," she said, turning to face me. The towel was small and her thighs were wet and shining. "Didi ne kaha tumhare paas reh loon. Didi ne bataya nahi?"

Meera had mentioned something on the phone. I had not been listening.

"Chai piyoge?" Kavya asked, and walked past me toward the kitchen, bare feet slapping the tiles, the towel riding dangerously high. I stood in the hallway like an idiot, my bag still on my shoulder, my eyes on the curve of her hip where the towel ended.

In the kitchen she bent to get the chai patila from the lower shelf. The towel rode up. I saw everything. She knew I saw everything, because when she stood up she was grinning.

"Dekh liya?" she said lightly.

"Kavya," I warned, but my voice came out rough.

"Kya Kavya? Aapki sali hoon. Thoda dekhne mein kya harz hai?" She put the patila on the stove and leaned back against the counter, arms crossed under her breasts, pushing them up. Water drops were still sliding down her neck. "Waise didi kehti hain aap bahut shareef ho. Mujhe toh nahi lagta."

"Tumhari didi ko bahut kuch nahi pata," I said, and immediately regretted it.

Her eyebrows went up. "Achha? Toh batao na, jiju. Kya nahi pata didi ko?"

The chai started to boil. Neither of us moved. The steam rose between us and her nipples were hard against the thin towel, two dark points, and I could feel my lund stiffening in my trousers like a traitor.

"Chai ubal rahi hai," I said.

"Ubalne do," she whispered. "Mujhe ubalti cheezein pasand hain."

She walked toward me. The kitchen is small and she came close enough that I could smell her shampoo and the clean sweat under it. She reached up, slowly, and loosened my tie.

"Jiju," she said, "ek baat poochun? Didi khush hain aapse?"

"Kya matlab?"

"Matlab yehi ki..." Her fingers were on my shirt buttons now, undoing the top one, then the second. "Didi kehti hain aap thak jaate ho. Jaldi so jaate ho. Mujhe laga... shayad didi ko woh nahi milta jo milna chahiye."

My hand closed around her wrist. "Kavya, ye khel mat khelo."

"Khel?" She laughed, low. "Jiju, main khel nahi khel rahi. Main bas pooch rahi hoon. Aap mein abhi bhi woh baat hai ya..." She looked down pointedly at the bulge in my trousers. "...ya ye sirf dikhawa hai?"

Something snapped in me. I pulled her wrist and she came forward, stumbling into my chest, and my mouth was on hers before either of us decided it. She tasted of toothpaste and daring. Her lips parted instantly and her tongue met mine, hungry, and her hands were in my hair, pulling.

The towel fell. I do not know which of us dropped it. Suddenly she was naked in my arms in the middle of the kitchen, her breasts pressed against my shirt, her nipples hard little stones, and she was grinding her bare hips against my trousers.

"Ruko," I breathed against her mouth. "Bedroom."

"Yahin," she hissed. "Abhi. Yahan."

I lifted her onto the kitchen counter. The steel was cold under her thighs and she gasped, then laughed, spreading her legs wide for me. Her chut was already wet, glistening, the lips swollen and pink, and when I slid two fingers inside her she moaned loud enough for the neighbours to hear.

"Chup," I said, but she shook her head.

"Nahi. Aaj chup nahi rahungi. Didi ke ghar mein hamesha chup rehna padta hai na aapko?" She grabbed my wrist and pushed my fingers deeper. "Aur andar. Haan... aise hi... oh God, jiju..."

I unzipped my trousers with my free hand and freed my lund. It was rock hard, the tip already leaking. Kavya looked down at it and licked her lips.

"Didi lucky hain," she murmured, and wrapped her fingers around it.

Her hand was small and hot. She stroked me slowly, thumb circling the head, smearing the precum, and I groaned and thrust into her fist. "Kavya... tum pagal ho..."

"Tumhare liye," she said, and slid off the counter to her knees on the kitchen floor.

She took me in her mouth without hesitation. Deep. Her lips stretched around my thickness and her tongue swirled under the head, and she looked up at me with those big innocent eyes while she sucked me like she had been doing it for years. My hands found her wet hair and I held her head, and she moaned around me, the vibration shooting straight up my spine.

"Bas," I gasped, pulling her up before I finished. "Abhi nahi."

I lifted her back onto the counter and spread her thighs wider. Her chut was dripping now, wet down to her thighs. I rubbed the head of my lund up and down her slit, teasing her clit, and she whimpered and bucked.

"Daalo na," she begged. "Please, jiju, daalo..."

I pushed in. Slowly at first, feeling her stretch around me, her inner walls gripping me tight and hot. She was tight, so tight, and she cried out when I bottomed out inside her.

"Oh... oh fuck... itna... itna bada..."

"Sah paogi?" I asked, already pulling back and thrusting in again.

"Aur zor se," she panted. "Didi ki tarah dheere mat karna. Zor se karo."

So I did. I held her hips and pounded into her on that kitchen counter, the steel rattling, her breasts bouncing with every thrust. She wrapped her legs around my waist and met me stroke for stroke, her nails digging into my shoulders through my shirt.

"Haan... haan... aise hi... meri chut ko phaad do..." she moaned, filthy and beautiful, and I felt her walls start to flutter around me.

"Aa rahi ho?" I grunted.

"Aa... aa rahi hoon... oh God... jiju... main..." Her whole body seized and she screamed as she came, her chut clenching hard around my lund, juices flooding out of her. The sight of her, head thrown back, mouth open, sent me over the edge and I pulled out and spurted thick white streams across her belly and breasts.

We stood there panting, her on the counter, me between her legs, both of us sticky and shaking.

"Chai jal gayi," she said finally, and we both burst out laughing.

We cleaned up and she made fresh chai, wearing my shirt and nothing else, and we sat on the sofa like it was the most normal thing in the world. But her foot kept sliding up my calf under the coffee table, and her eyes kept dropping to my lap.

"Jiju," she said after a while, "didi kab aa rahi hain?"

"Sunday evening."

"Toh hamare paas do din hain." She set her cup down and straddled my lap, the shirt riding up to show me she was still bare underneath. "Batao, ab kya karoge?"

I slid my hands up her thighs. "Tumne abhi tak kapde kyun nahi pehne?"

"Kyunki utaarne mein time waste hota hai," she said, and kissed me.

This time it was slower. We moved to the bedroom, to my and Meera's bed, and I laid her down on the sheets and took my time. I kissed down her neck, her collarbones, took each breast in my mouth, sucking her nipples until she was writhing. I kissed down her flat stomach and buried my face between her thighs.

Her taste exploded on my tongue, musky and sweet. I licked her long and slow, then fast, circling her clit, and she tangled her hands in my hair and rode my face shamelessly.

"Haan... wahin... oh... tumhari biwi ko pata hai tum ye kar sakte ho?" she gasped.

"Ab tumhe pata hai," I said, and slid two fingers inside her while my tongue worked her clit.

She came on my face with a shuddering cry, her thighs clamping around my head. Before she had finished trembling I was on top of her, my lund pressing at her entrance, and I slid into her wet heat in one smooth stroke.

"Oh..." she breathed. "Tum... tum andar se bhi..."

We moved together, slow and deep. Her legs wrapped around me and her heels dug into my back, pulling me deeper. I kissed her hard, swallowing her moans, and she whispered filthy things in my ear.

"Aur tez... haan... meri chut mein... poora daalo..."

I flipped her over. She went willingly, on all fours, her round ass in the air, looking back at me over her shoulder with heavy eyes. I gripped her hips and drove into her from behind, deep and hard, watching my lund disappear into her again and again.

"Kutta bana diya tumne mujhe," she moaned, laughing breathlessly. "Didi ki behen ko kutiya bana diya..."

"Tum khud bani ho," I grunted, spanking her lightly. She cried out and pushed back harder against me.

"Aur maaro... haan..."

The bed was creaking. The headboard was banging the wall. We did not care. I reached around and rubbed her clit hard while I pounded her, and she came again with a scream, her whole body convulsing, and this time I stayed inside her and let go, pumping my release deep into her, both of us groaning.

Afterwards we lay tangled in the damp sheets. The ceiling fan turned lazily above us. Kavya traced patterns on my chest with one finger.

"Jiju," she said quietly, "ye dobara hoga?"

"Tum chahti ho?"

"Main toh roz chahti hoon." She propped herself up on one elbow and looked at me seriously. "Lekin didi ko kabhi pata nahi chalna chahiye. Promise karo."

"Promise," I said, and pulled her down for another kiss.

Outside, the Mumbai traffic honked and rumbled. Inside our flat, my wife's younger sister was naked in my arms, and the afternoon was still young.

That evening, when my phone buzzed with Meera's name on the screen, Kavya was in the shower. I let it ring. Some calls can wait. Some afternoons cannot be repeated, only remembered, and I was already planning how to make the next one happen.

Kavya came out of the bathroom in a fresh towel, saw my face, and smiled like she could read my mind.

"Soch kya rahe ho, jiju?" she asked.

"Sunday tak ka plan," I said, and she laughed, and dropped the towel.