She was my older sister, Priya, twenty-eight and already married off to some asshole in Delhi, but home for the summer with her husband away on business.
I was twenty-three, stuck in our small Mumbai apartment with our parents gone for a week. The heat made everything stick. Sweat ran down her neck into the low cut of her salwar kameez every time she bent over to cook.
One night the power cut out. We sat in the dark on the floor, fans dead, drinking warm beer from the fridge. "Remember when we used to play doctor as kids?" she said, voice low. I laughed but my cock twitched. She noticed the bulge in my shorts. Her hand landed on my thigh, fingers sliding higher. "You're not a kid anymore, Rahul."
She pulled her dupatta off. Her tits were heavy, nipples dark and hard through the thin fabric. I reached out and squeezed one. She moaned and shoved her hand down my pants, gripping my shaft tight. "Fuck, you're thick like Dad." That made my blood pound harder. She stroked me rough, thumb smearing the pre-cum over the head.
We didn't bother with the bedroom. She yanked her bottoms down, spread her legs on the cool tile, and pulled me between them. Her pussy was shaved smooth, lips already wet. I slammed into her in one thrust. She was tight and hot, gripping me like she hadn't been fucked in months. "Harder, you dirty bastard," she hissed. "Fuck your sister like you mean it."
I pounded her right there, skin slapping loud in the quiet apartment. Her juices coated my balls. She clawed my back and wrapped her legs around me, heels digging in. "Cum inside me. Fill your sister's cunt." I grunted and shot deep, pulse after pulse, her walls milking every drop.
We didn't stop. She flipped onto all fours, ass up, and I took her again from behind, thumb in her asshole while I railed her sloppy pussy. Later she rode me on the couch, tits bouncing, telling me how she'd always wanted my cock since we were teens. By morning we were covered in sweat and cum, her thighs sticky, my dick raw but still hard when she sucked me clean.
Every night that week we fucked like animals—on the kitchen counter, in the shower, once even with the lights on so anyone across the street could see. She whispered filthy Indian curses while I stretched her holes, and I called her my slut sister. When our parents came back we acted normal, but she still sneaks me into her room when her husband is asleep.
