I had just turned twenty-five when my older brother got transferred to Dubai for work, leaving his twenty-three-year-old wife alone in our joint family home in Delhi. Riya was a proper desi bhabhi—thick hips from home-cooked ghee, heavy tits that strained every salwar kameez she owned, and a round ass that swayed when she walked. I used to jerk off thinking about her, but I never expected the real thing to happen.
One humid night the power went out. The whole house was dark and quiet except for the generator humming outside. I found Riya in the kitchen, fanning herself with a newspaper, sweat making her thin cotton nightie stick to her body. Her nipples poked out like they were begging to be sucked.
"Arjun, it's too hot," she said, voice low. "Come sit with me."
I sat close on the floor. Her thigh pressed against mine. She didn't move away. Instead she leaned in, and I smelled her perfume mixed with sweat. My cock got hard fast.
She noticed. Her hand brushed my lap on purpose. "You're hard for your bhabhi?" she whispered, dirty and direct. "Your brother is gone and you want to fuck me, isn't it?"
I didn't answer with words. I grabbed her face and kissed her hard, tongue pushing into her mouth. She moaned and grabbed my cock through my shorts, squeezing it.
"Take it out," she ordered.
I yanked my shorts down. My thick cock sprang free, already leaking. Riya wrapped her fingers around it and stroked fast, thumb rubbing the head.
"Such a big lund for a young boy," she said. "Bhabhi is going to suck it."
She dropped to her knees right there on the kitchen floor and took me in her mouth. Her lips stretched around my shaft as she bobbed deep, gagging but not stopping. Spit ran down my balls while she sucked like she was starving. I held her head and fucked her throat, watching her eyes water.
After a minute she pulled off, gasping. "Now fuck me. I need it."
She stood, pulled her nightie up, and bent over the counter. No panties. Her fat desi ass spread for me, pussy already shiny and dripping. I rubbed my cock up and down her slit, coating it in her juice, then slammed inside in one thrust.
Riya cried out, loud and filthy. "Ahh fuck, yes! Stretch your bhabhi's chut!"
I pounded her hard from behind, hips slapping against that soft ass.
Her tits swung under the nightie. I reached around and pinched her nipples while I fucked her deeper. She pushed back, meeting every stroke.
"Harder, Arjun. Make me your randi tonight."
I pulled out, spun her around, and lifted her onto the counter. She spread her legs wide. I shoved back in, watching my cock disappear into her wet hole. Her clit was swollen; I rubbed it with my thumb while I thrust.
She came first, legs shaking, pussy clamping down on me. "I'm cumming on my devar's cock! Don't stop!"
I kept going until my balls tightened. I pulled out at the last second and shot thick ropes across her stomach and tits. She rubbed it into her skin, licking her fingers.
That was only the start. We moved to her bedroom. She rode me next, bouncing on my cock, her heavy tits in my mouth. I sucked and bit her nipples while she ground her clit against me. She came again, soaking my lap.
Later I took her ass. She got on all fours and begged for it. I used her own pussy juice to slick her tight hole and pushed in slow at first, then harder. She fingered her cunt while I fucked her ass, moaning like a whore.
"Fill bhabhi's gaand, beta. Give me all your cum."
I did, pumping deep until it leaked out around my cock.
By morning we were sore and sticky, but we weren't done. Every night after that, while the family slept, Riya came to my room or I went to hers. She taught me how she liked her clit licked, how to choke her just right while I fucked her, how to make her squirt. I learned the taste of her desi pussy and the sounds she made when she begged for my cum in every hole.
We never got caught. My brother still sends money from Dubai. Riya still wears her bhabhi sarees during the day. But at night she is mine—my secret, filthy, perfect desi incest fuck.
