Rahul slammed the door to their small Kolkata flat behind him, sweat still clinging to his skin from the humid streets. His older sister, Priya, stood in the kitchen in a thin cotton nightie that barely covered her thick ass. At 24, she was five years older than him, but living crammed together in their joint family home had turned every glance into something filthy.
"Fuck, it's hot," she muttered, turning to face him. Her nipples poked hard through the fabric. "You look like you need to cool off."
Rahul didn't answer with words. He stepped close, grabbed her hips, and yanked her against his already hard cock. "Stop teasing me, didi. I've seen how you bend over when Ma's not around. You want this dick."
Priya's breath hitched but she didn't pull away. "You're my fucking brother. We can't—"
"Shut up." He shoved the nightie up over her hips, fingers diving straight between her legs. She was soaked, her pussy lips slick and puffy. Two fingers sank into her tight hole without resistance. "You're dripping for your brother's cock. Admit it."
She moaned, pushing back on his hand. "Yes, okay? I've been wet thinking about you all week. Fuck me like you mean it."
Rahul spun her around, bent her over the kitchen counter, and freed his thick cock. He rubbed the head up and down her slit, coating himself in her juices before slamming in balls-deep in one thrust. Priya cried out, gripping the edge of the counter as he pounded her from behind.
"Take it, you dirty sister slut," he growled, slapping her ass hard enough to leave a red mark. "This Bengali pussy belongs to me now."
She pushed back, meeting every thrust. "Harder, Rahul. Fuck your didi's cunt like you hate me."
He did exactly that, gripping her waist and driving into her with wet, slapping sounds that filled the flat. Her juices ran down his balls. When she started clenching around him, he reached under and rubbed her swollen clit until she came, gushing around his cock and biting her own arm to stay quiet.
He didn't stop. Pulling out, he spun her to face him, lifted her onto the counter, and shoved back inside. Her legs wrapped around him as he fucked her deep and rough, sucking on her tits through the thin nightie until the fabric was soaked with spit.
"Fill me up," she begged, eyes glassy. "Cum in your sister's pussy."
Rahul buried himself to the hilt and unloaded, pumping thick ropes of cum deep inside her. They stayed locked together, breathing hard, his cock still twitching in her cum-filled cunt.
Later that night, after the rest of the family went to sleep, Priya crept into his room. She climbed on top of him in the dark, guiding his cock back into her sloppy pussy. "Round two," she whispered, riding him slow and filthy, grinding her clit against him until they both came again.
They kept it up for weeks—quick fucks in the bathroom while Ma cooked, long sessions when the flat was empty, Priya whispering the dirtiest things while her brother stretched her holes. The risk only made it hotter. Every time he pumped her full of cum, she smiled like the good Bengali sister who secretly lived for her brother's dick.
By the end of the month they had no shame left. Priya would bend over the dining table the second the door locked, begging, "Use your didi's ass this time." Rahul would spit on her hole, work his cock in, and fuck her until she squirted on the floor.
It was wrong, messy, and they both knew they would never stop.
