I never planned for it to happen, but once the rain started pounding our ancestral home in the hills outside Kozhikode, everything changed between me and my elder sister, Meera. We were both adults, me twenty-three and her twenty-seven, stuck together for the week while our parents visited relatives in Thrissur. The old wooden house creaked under the downpour, and the power kept flickering off, leaving us with only oil lamps and the thick, humid air.
Meera had always been the bold one, the one who wore sleeveless blouses under her saree even when relatives frowned. That evening she came out of the bath wearing just a thin cotton nightie that clung to her full breasts and wide hips. Water still dripped from her long black hair onto the fabric, making her dark nipples visible through the cloth. I tried not to stare, but my cock twitched in my lungi anyway.
“Close the windows, Rahul,” she said, her voice low. “The wind is blowing rain inside.”
I moved past her, and our arms brushed. Her skin was warm and damp. She didn’t step back. Instead she looked at the obvious bulge under my lungi and smiled, a slow, dirty smile I had never seen from her before.
“You’re hard already,” she whispered. “From just looking at your sister’s tits?”
The word “sister” made my stomach flip, but my dick got even harder. I didn’t answer with words. I reached out and cupped one heavy breast through the wet nightie, thumb rubbing the stiff nipple. Meera moaned softly and pressed herself closer, her hand sliding straight into my lungi to grip my thick shaft.
“Fuck, it’s so hot and heavy,” she murmured, stroking me slowly. “I’ve wondered how big my little brother’s cock would feel in my hand.”
We didn’t bother with more talk. She dropped to her knees right there on the wet floorboards and yanked my lungi down. Her mouth was on me instantly, tongue swirling around the head, then taking me deep until her nose pressed against my stomach. The wet sounds of her sucking mixed with the rain hammering the roof. I held her head and fucked her mouth, watching my cock disappear between her full lips again and again.
When she finally stood up, her nightie was soaked through. She pulled it off, revealing smooth brown skin, heavy breasts with large dark areolas, and a neatly trimmed pussy already glistening. She turned, bent over the old teak table, and spread her legs.
“Put it in me, Rahul. Fuck your sister’s cunt like you’ve always wanted.”
I didn’t hesitate. I lined up and drove my cock straight into her tight, wet heat. She was burning inside, gripping me like a fist. Meera cried out and pushed back, taking every inch until my balls slapped against her. I grabbed her hips and started pounding, the table scraping on the floor with every thrust. The sound of skin slapping skin was loud even over the storm.
“Harder,” she gasped. “Make me feel it tomorrow.
Fill your sister’s pussy.”
I reached around and rubbed her swollen clit while I fucked her deep and fast. Her juices coated my cock and ran down my balls. When she came, her whole body shook and she moaned my name in Malayalam, “Rahul chetta, enne kollalle…” The words pushed me over the edge. I buried myself to the hilt and pumped thick ropes of cum deep inside her, pulse after pulse until it leaked out around my shaft.
We didn’t stop there. We moved to the bedroom, where she rode me slowly at first, then harder, her breasts bouncing in my face while she ground her clit against me. Later I took her from behind again, this time with her face pressed into the pillow, ass up, while I fingered her tight asshole and told her how filthy she was for wanting her brother’s cock. She came twice more before I flooded her again.
By morning the rain had eased, but we didn’t leave the room. Meera woke me with her mouth on my cock again, sucking me back to hardness so I could fuck her one more time before the house woke up around us. We knew it was wrong, knew it was incest, but the hunger was too strong. In that monsoon week we fucked in every room, every position, whispering the dirtiest things to each other in a mix of English and Malayalam until we were both sore and satisfied.
Even after our parents returned, the secret stayed between us. Every time she walked past me in her saree I could still feel how tight and wet her cunt had been, and she would give me that same knowing smile. We both knew it would happen again the next time we were alone.
