Rahul slammed the door to their small Mumbai flat behind him. His sister Priya was bent over the kitchen counter in her thin cotton salwar, the fabric stretched tight over her round ass. She was 22, he was 24, and they had been circling each other for months since their parents left for the village.
“Priya, stop fucking teasing,” Rahul growled, yanking her dupatta off. “I saw you rubbing your cunt last night through the door crack.”
Priya turned, eyes dark. “Then come do something about it, bhai. I’m wet and tired of fingers.”
He grabbed her by the hair and shoved her against the wall. His hand went straight between her legs, fingers pushing the thin cloth aside to find her shaved pussy already dripping. Two fingers slid in deep. She moaned loud, Indian style, no holding back.
“Fuck, your chut is tight,” he said, pumping hard. “You been saving this for your own brother?”
She reached down and squeezed his cock through his jeans. “Yes. Now take it out and fuck me like you mean it.”
Rahul ripped her kameez open. Her heavy tits spilled free, dark nipples hard. He sucked one hard while he finger-fucked her faster. Priya’s hips bucked against his hand.
“Chod mujhe,” she begged. “Fuck your sister. Right here.”
He spun her around, bent her over the counter again, and freed his thick cock. No slow build. He lined up and slammed in to the balls in one thrust. Priya cried out, gripping the marble. Her wet Indian pussy clenched around him like a fist.
Rahul pounded her hard, skin slapping loud in the tiny kitchen. “Take it, behen. Take your brother’s lund deep.”
“Harder,” she gasped. “Fuck me like you hate me.”
He did. One hand on her hip, the other pulling her hair, he drilled her cunt with fast, brutal strokes. Her juices ran down her thighs. Every thrust made her ass ripple. She pushed back, meeting every slam.
They moved to the floor. Priya got on all fours, back arched. Rahul mounted her like an animal, driving in again. The wet sounds filled the room. He reached under and rubbed her swollen clit in rough circles.
“Cum on my cock, slut,” he ordered. “Cum for your bhai.”
Priya’s whole body shook. She came hard, cunt pulsing, screaming his name in Hindi mixed with English. Rahul didn’t stop. He kept fucking through her orgasm until she was shaking.
He pulled out, flipped her onto her back, and shoved back in. Missionary, raw and deep.
Her legs wrapped around him. Tits bounced with every thrust. He leaned down and bit her neck.
“Going to fill your chut,” he grunted. “Breed my own sister.”
“Do it,” she hissed. “Pump your cum inside me.”
Rahul slammed in one last time and exploded, thick ropes of cum flooding her pussy. He kept thrusting through it, pushing it deeper. Priya came again around his pulsing cock, milking every drop.
They lay there panting, his cock still buried in her messy cunt. Cum leaked out around his shaft.
Priya smiled up at him. “Round two in the shower. Then you fuck my ass.”
Rahul grinned. “This is just the start, behen. We’ve got the whole flat to ourselves.”
They fucked three more times that night—once standing in the shower, once with her riding him on the sofa, and once slow and nasty on the bed with her legs over his shoulders. Every time she begged for more, every time he gave it to her raw and dirty. By morning the sheets were soaked and they both knew this forbidden Indian incest was their new normal.
