My name is Amit, I’m 24 years old, and I come from a typical middle-class joint family in a small village in Uttar Pradesh. Our house is big, old, mud-walled with a courtyard in the middle, surrounded by fields. Everyone lives together – dada-dadi, chacha-chachi, my parents, my elder brother Rohan and his wife Priya bhabhi. Rohan bhaiya got married three years ago to Priya, who was 28 now, and she was the kind of woman every man in the village secretly stared at. Fair skin, long black hair that she always tied in a loose bun, big expressive eyes, full lips, and most of all – those heavy, perfectly round breasts that strained against her blouse every time she moved. Her waist was slim, hips wide, and the way her saree clung to her body in the summer heat made my throat dry.
Rohan bhaiya worked in Delhi as a salesman and only came home once every two-three months. That left Priya bhabhi alone in the house most of the time, managing household chores with ammi and chachi, but I could see the loneliness in her eyes. She would smile politely at everyone, but when she thought no one was looking, her face would fall. I felt bad for her, but I also felt something else – something wrong, something that made my lund twitch every time I saw her bend down to pick something up and her pallu slipped just enough to show the deep valley between her big boobs.
It started innocently enough. Mornings in the courtyard, she would be sweeping while I drank chai on the charpai. The breeze would play with her saree, making the pallu slide off her shoulder. She would quickly pull it back, but not before I got a glimpse of her creamy cleavage, the black bra cupping those heavy mounds. I would look away, feeling guilty, but my eyes always drifted back. She noticed. I know she did, because sometimes she would let the pallu stay slipped a second longer, and when our eyes met, she would give a small, shy smile before adjusting it.
In the afternoons, when everyone napped, she would wash clothes near the hand pump. Her saree would get wet at the bottom, clinging to her legs, outlining her thick thighs and the curve of her ass. I would pretend to study under the neem tree nearby, but really I was watching the water droplets run down her neck into her blouse. One day, she caught me staring. “Amit, kitna padhoge? Thoda kaam bhi kar liya karo,” she teased, splashing a little water towards me. I laughed, but my heart was racing. Her blouse had become slightly transparent from the splashes, and I could see the dark outline of her nipples. Big, round areolas. My lund hardened instantly in my shorts.
Evenings were the worst. We all ate together on the floor, and she would serve food. When she leaned over me to put dal in my plate, her pallu would brush my shoulder, and I could smell her – that mix of soap, sweat, and something womanly that made me dizzy. Her breasts would hang heavy, almost touching my arm. I would keep my eyes down, but my mind was screaming. Bhaiya ki biwi hai, yeh galat hai, I would tell myself. But the more I tried to push the thoughts away, the stronger they came. At night, in my room, I would stroke my thick 7-inch lund thinking about her, imagining how soft those boobs would feel in my hands, how her chut would taste.
The tension kept building over weeks. One day, she asked me to help her carry a heavy water pot from the well. As we walked back, her hip brushed against mine with every step. “Amit, tum kitne strong ho gaye ho,” she said softly, looking at my arms. I mumbled something, but my eyes dropped to her swaying hips. That night, she complained of back pain during dinner. Ammi told her to rest, but later, when everyone was asleep, I heard a soft knock on my door. It was bhabhi, in her night saree, holding a bottle of balm.
“Amit, thodi si malish kar doge? Peeth mein bahut dard hai,” she whispered. My heart almost stopped. I nodded, unable to speak. She lay face down on my bed, pallu tucked aside. I poured balm on my palms and started rubbing her lower back. Her skin was so soft, warm. As I pressed harder, she let out small moans – “Ahh… wahin… thoda zor se…” My lund was rock hard, pressing against my lungi. I moved higher, my fingers brushing the side of her breasts. She didn’t stop me. Instead, she arched slightly, pushing them into my touch.
I grew bolder. My hands slid under her blouse, feeling the bare skin of her back. She shivered. “Bhabhi…” I whispered. She turned her face towards me, eyes half-closed. “Amit… kitne din se main akeli hoon… Rohan kabhi time hi nahi deta…” Her voice was husky. I couldn’t control myself anymore. I leaned down and kissed her neck. She gasped, but didn’t pull away. My hands moved to her front, cupping those heavy breasts over the blouse. They were even bigger than I imagined – full, soft yet firm, overflowing my palms. I squeezed gently, feeling the hard nipples poke through the fabric.
She turned over, eyes dark with desire. “Yeh galat hai, Amit… par… control nahi hota…” she murmured. I didn’t care. I kissed her lips – soft, full, tasting of elaichi. She kissed back hungrily, tongue sliding into my mouth. My hands worked quickly now, unhooking her blouse one hook at a time. The blouse opened, revealing her black bra straining against those massive boobs. I pulled the bra cups down, and they spilled out – perfect round 36D breasts, light brown areolas, thick nipples already hard like grapes.
I buried my face between them, inhaling her scent – sweat, talcum powder, and that musky womanly smell. I sucked one nipple hard, rolling the other between my fingers. Bhabhi moaned loudly now – “Ahhh… Amit… devarji… chooso mujhe…” Her hands pulled my head closer. I alternated between both breasts, sucking, biting gently, leaving wet trails of saliva. Her nipples were swollen, shiny from my mouth. She was writhing under me, her saree riding up her thighs.
I moved down, kissing her stomach, untying her petticoat string with trembling fingers. The petticoat loosened, and I pulled it down along with her saree. She lifted her hips to help me. Now she was only in her black panty, already soaked at the crotch. I could smell her arousal – strong, intoxicating. I kissed her inner thighs, slowly moving up. She spread her legs wider, breathing heavily. “Amit… please…”
I pulled her panty aside and stared at her chut – pink, swollen lips glistening with juices, a neat trim of black hair above. I parted her lips with my fingers, feeling the slippery wetness. She was dripping. I slid one finger inside – hot, tight, velvety. She gasped – “Haan… andar daalo…” I added another finger, pumping slowly while my thumb rubbed her clit. Her hips bucked, juices coating my hand. The room filled with wet squelching sounds and her moans – “Ahhh… devarji… bahut achha lag raha hai…”
I couldn’t wait anymore. I pulled down my lungi, my thick lund springing out, throbbing, pre-cum leaking from the tip. Bhabhi’s eyes widened. “Kitna bada hai tera…” she whispered, reaching out to stroke it. Her soft hand felt heavenly. She pumped it slowly, spreading the pre-cum over the head. Then she guided me between her legs.
I positioned myself and pushed in slowly. Her chut was incredibly tight, gripping my lund like a vice. Hot, wet, sucking me in. Inch by inch I went deeper until I was fully inside. We both groaned. “Bhabhi… kitni tight ho tum…” I started moving slowly, savoring every stroke. Her walls clenched around me, juices leaking out with every thrust. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room.
She wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper. “Chodo mujhe, Amit… zor se… kitne din se tari thi tere lund ki…” Her dirty words drove me wild. I pounded harder, her big boobs bouncing with every thrust. I grabbed them, squeezing hard while fucking her deep. She was moaning non-stop – “Ahhh… haan devarji… phaad do meri chut… aur zor se…”
We fucked like animals in missionary for what felt like hours. Sweat covered our bodies, making us slippery. Her scent was everywhere – musk, sex, sweat. I felt her first orgasm build – her chut tightened even more, she dug her nails into my back, body shaking. “Aaahhh… aa raha hai… oh god…” She came hard, juices gushing out, soaking the bedsheet.
But I wasn’t done. I pulled out and flipped her over onto her hands and knees. Her ass was round, perfect. I slapped it lightly, watching it jiggle. Then I entered her from behind – even deeper this way. She screamed into the pillow – “Haan… doggy mein chodo… phaad do mujhe…” I grabbed her hips and fucked her hard, my balls slapping against her clit. Her boobs swung wildly beneath her. I reached around to rub her clit while thrusting.
Second round was even more intense. She came again quickly, body convulsing, chut milking my lund. I kept going, feeling my own orgasm building. “Bhabhi… andar daalun?” I gasped. She nodded frantically – “Haan… creampie de de… bhar de meri chut…” With a final deep thrust, I exploded inside her, rope after rope of thick cum filling her up. We collapsed together, breathing heavily, my lund still twitching inside her.
But the night wasn’t over. After resting a few minutes, she turned to me, eyes still hungry. She pushed me onto my back and climbed on top. “Ab meri baari,” she whispered. She guided my semi-hard lund back into her cum-filled chut and started riding me slowly. The sight of her big boobs bouncing as she moved up and down was unreal. Cum and juices leaked out with every stroke, making obscene sounds.
She rode me faster, grinding her clit against me. I held her boobs, pinching nipples. She leaned down to kiss me, our tongues messy. Third orgasm hit her while on top – she sat down hard, body shaking, moaning my name. The feeling of her chut spasming pushed me over again. I thrust up and came inside her a second time, adding more cum to her already overflowing chut.
We fucked twice more that night – once with her sucking my lund clean (she swallowed every drop, looking into my eyes), and finally slow, intimate missionary where we whispered confessions of how long we had wanted this. By morning, we were exhausted, bodies sticky with sweat and cum, but satisfied in a way that felt both sinful and perfect.
That was the night our forbidden desires finally exploded. And though we knew it was wrong, in the weeks that followed, every stolen moment in the fields, behind the barn, or when the house slept – we gave in again and again, unable to stop the fire we had ignited.
Title: Lonely Village Bhabhi Seduced By Young Devar Incest Sex Story Real Taboo Experience Joint Family
Writer Name: Arjun Patel
Short Description: Hi, I'm Arjun, 22, from a Gujarat village joint family. My lonely bhabhi Sneha, neglected by bhaiya working in city, complained of body pain one humid night. I offered massage... what started innocent turned into forbidden passion, and that night our taboo desires finally exploded.
Content:
Hi, my name is Arjun Patel, and this is my true experience that happened two years ago when I was 22. I come from a typical middle-class family in a small village in Gujarat. Our house is a traditional joint family home – big courtyard, mud-plastered walls, tiled roof, rooms around the open space. My parents, grandparents, my elder brother Rajesh bhaiya, his wife Sneha bhabhi, and me – all under one roof. Village life is slow, hot summers, humid monsoon nights, everyone sleeping early after dinner.
Rajesh bhaiya is 29, works as a salesman in Ahmedabad, comes home only twice a month. He married Sneha bhabhi four years ago. Bhabhi is 26 now, and yaar, she is stunning. Fair wheatish skin, long black hair always oiled and braided, big expressive eyes, full lips that curve into a shy smile. But what makes every man in the village steal glances – her figure. Heavy 36D breasts that strain against her cotton blouses, deep cleavage always teasing when the pallu slips a little, round heavy hips, and a gaand that sways hypnotically when she walks with water pots. She does all household work – cooking, cleaning, washing – so her body is curvy, soft yet toned.
Since bhaiya is mostly away, I noticed bhabhi getting quieter, lonelier. She would talk to me more than anyone else. I had just finished my B.Com, was home for summer before job hunting. I’m 5’10”, average build, but village gym (lifting sacks, cycling) kept me fit. Bhabhi would tease me calling me “mota bhai” playfully, and I would help her in chores just to be near her.
The tension started small. In the kitchen, narrow space, when passing utensils our hands brushed. Her skin so soft, warm. I felt a jolt straight to my lund. She would look at me a second longer, then look away blushing. Sometimes her pallu would slip while bending to pick something, and I’d get a glimpse of deep valley between her big choochiyan, white bra cupping them. My lund would harden instantly under my shorts. I felt guilty – she’s my bhabhi – but the taboo thrill was too strong.
Nights were worst. Our rooms are adjacent, thin wall. Sometimes I heard her soft sighs, restless turning on the cot. I would lie awake, imagining her body under the thin cotton saree, hand on my throbbing lund, slowly stroking thinking of her.
One monsoon evening, it was very humid. Everyone had dinner early. Bhabhi complained of severe back and shoulder pain from washing clothes all day. Maa suggested hot oil massage but was too tired herself. I immediately offered, “Bhabhi, main kar deta hoon. College mein dost ko karta tha sports injury ke liye.”
She hesitated, looked at me with those big eyes, cheeks pink. “Nahi Arjun, sharmaungi… tu mera devar hai.”
But pain was bad, so she agreed. “Theek hai, but only back and shoulders, samjha?”
We went to her room after everyone slept. Small room, wooden cot, slow ceiling fan creaking, kerosene lantern giving dim yellow light. Rain pattering on tiles outside. She lay on her stomach on the cot, still in sky-blue saree. I warmed coconut oil in my palms, heart beating fast.
I started at shoulders over the blouse. Her body relaxed immediately. “Ahh… achha lag raha hai Arjun.” Her voice soft, husky.
I pressed deeper, thumbs circling knots. The thin blouse fabric, I could feel heat of her skin, bra strap outline. My lund already semi-hard. I moved lower, to mid-back, then waist where saree was tucked. My fingers accidentally brushed the soft bare skin above petticoat. She shivered slightly but didn’t stop me.
“Bhabhi, pallu thoda side kar do, better massage hoga.”
She silently moved pallu aside. Now blouse fully exposed, back hooks visible. The side of her heavy breasts bulging out from under her. I poured more oil, hands gliding smoother. Her breathing deeper. Soft moans escaped – “Mmm… haan wahin… ahh.”
I grew bolder, fingers slipping under blouse edge to touch bare back skin. So smooth, like malai. She didn’t protest. I undid two lower blouse hooks “for better access”. She gasped softly but stayed quiet.
Now half her creamy back bare. My cock fully hard, tenting shorts. I massaged lower, near waist, fingers brushing top of her gaand over saree. She arched slightly, pushing back into my hands.
“Arjun… bas shoulders hi the na…” but her voice lacked conviction.
I turned the conversation. “Bhabhi, aap itni sundar ho, bhaiya ko aapki kitni yaad aati hogi city mein?”
She laughed softly, sad tone. “Yaad? Unko toh kaam se fursat hi nahi. Mahine mein do baar aate hain, woh bhi thake haare.”
I felt anger at bhaiya, but also opportunity. My hands now openly kneading her bare waist. “Aap deserve karte ho daily pampering bhabhi.”
She turned her head, looked at me. Eyes shining in lantern light. “Tu bahut sweet hai Arjun.”
I couldn’t control. I leaned down, kissed her exposed shoulder lightly. She froze, then shivered. “Arjun… ye kya…”
But she didn’t move away. I kissed again, tongue tasting her salty skin. Hands moved up, unhooked remaining blouse hooks one by one. Blouse opened fully. She was wearing white bra. I gently pulled blouse out from under her.
Now only bra and saree. Her breathing fast. “Arjun… galat hai ye… hum devar-bhabhi hain…”
My voice thick with lust. “Bhabhi, I can’t stop wanting you. Aap bhi akeli ho… mujhe bhi aap chahiye.”
She turned over slowly, lying on back. Eyes half closed, lips parted. Pallu completely fallen, breasts heaving in bra, deep cleavage glistening with little sweat. “Sirf aaj ke liye… kisi ko pata nahi chalna chahiye.”
That was all I needed. I straddled her thighs, hands cupping her heavy breasts over bra. So full, soft yet firm, overflowing my palms. I squeezed gently. She moaned “Ahhh… dheere…”
I unhooked bra front (it was front-open thankfully). Bra cups fell aside. Her big choochiyan bounced free. Dark brown areolas, thick nipples already hard like ripe grapes. I stared hungrily. “Bhabhi… aapke boobs kitne bade aur sundar hain.”
I lowered mouth, took one nipple in, sucking hard. Tongue circling. She arched back, hands in my hair. “Sss… ahh Arjun… choos zor se… haan aise hi…”
I alternated breasts, sucking, biting lightly, hands kneading the soft flesh. Her skin tasted of sweat and faint jasmine gajra. Nipples swollen under my tongue. She was writhing now.
My cock painfully hard. I stood, removed t-shirt, shorts. My 7-inch lund sprang out, thick, veins pulsing, tip wet with pre-cum. Bhabhi stared wide-eyed. “Arjun… kitna bada hai tera…”
She reached, wrapped soft hand around it. Stroked slowly. Pre-cum smeared on her palm. I groaned.
I pulled her saree pallu completely off, untucked pleats. Saree slid down. Now only petticoat and panty. I untied petticoat string, pulled it down her wide hips. White cotton panty soaked at crotch. Musky smell of her arousal hit me.
I kissed down her belly, soft pooch, navel. Hooked fingers in panty, pulled down slowly. Her chut came into view – trimmed hair, pink lips puffy, glistening wet. Strong womanly scent. I spread her thighs.
“Bhabhi… aapki chut kitni geeli hai mere liye.”
She covered face shyly. “Dekh mat aise… sharma rahi hoon.”
I buried face between her legs. Tongue licked outer lips, tasting tangy juices. She bucked. “Ohhh maaa… Arjun… aise nahi kiya kabhi…”
I licked deeper, tongue inside her tight hole, then flicked clit. She grabbed my head, hips grinding on my face. Juices flowing, coating my chin. Her moans louder “Ahh… haan wahin… choos meri chut devarji… ahhhh!”
She came first time – body shaking, thighs clamping my head, crying out “Bas… aa rahi hoon!”
I didn’t stop till she pushed me away panting.
Now I couldn’t wait. Knelt between her legs, lund rubbing her wet slit. “Bhabhi… andar daalun?”
She nodded frantically. “Haan Arjun… chod mujhe… bhar de apni bhabhi ko.”
I pushed in slowly. Her chut incredibly tight, hot, wet walls gripping my lund. Halfway in she gasped “Dheere… bahut mota hai tera…”
I waited, then pushed fully. Buried to hilt. We both groaned. I started slow thrusts. Her big boobs jiggling with each stroke. I leaned down sucking them while fucking.
Speed increased. Room filled with sounds – wet slapping, her moans “Ahh… ahh… chod… zor se… haan devarji fuck kar apni bhabhi ko!”
I pounded harder. Her nails digging my back. Second orgasm hit her – chut spasming around my lund, milking me.
I felt close. “Bhabhi… andar hi daalun?”
“Haan… creampie de… bhar de meri chut!”
I thrust deep, exploded inside her. Rope after rope of thick cum filling her womb. Body shaking with pleasure.
We stayed joined, breathing heavy. My cum leaking out around my lund.
But we weren’t done. After few minutes, she pushed me on back, climbed on top. Her heavy breasts hanging, nipples still wet from my saliva. She guided my still-hard lund inside again. Started riding.
View was heavenly – bhabhi bouncing, boobs slapping, hair open now wild. She rode hard, grinding clit. “Ahh… kitna achha lagta hai tera lund andar…”
I grabbed her gaand, squeezed the soft flesh, helped her bounce. Third orgasm for her, screaming my name.
I flipped her doggy style. Her big round ass up, chut dripping our mixed juices. I entered from behind, deep hard strokes. Balls slapping her clit. She pushed back greedily.
“Thap thap thap” sound echoing. I slapped her ass lightly, watching it jiggle. She loved it. “Haan maar… zor se chod!”
Final round – I fucked her senseless till I came second time deep inside.
We collapsed, sweaty bodies entangled. She kissed me softly. “Arjun… ye galat tha… lekin bahut zaruri tha. Mujhe aisa sukh kabhi nahi mila.”
I held her tight. “Bhabhi, ab se jab bhi bhaiya nahi honge, main aapka pati banunga raat ko.”
She smiled shyly. That night changed everything. Whenever we got chance – kitchen quickie, fields, even once in barn – we fucked like animals. The taboo thrill never faded.
Even now when I think of that first night, my lund gets hard. Sneha bhabhi is still the hottest woman I’ve ever had, and our secret continues whenever I visit village.
Rohan bhaiya worked in Delhi as a salesman and only came home once every two-three months. That left Priya bhabhi alone in the house most of the time, managing household chores with ammi and chachi, but I could see the loneliness in her eyes. She would smile politely at everyone, but when she thought no one was looking, her face would fall. I felt bad for her, but I also felt something else – something wrong, something that made my lund twitch every time I saw her bend down to pick something up and her pallu slipped just enough to show the deep valley between her big boobs.
It started innocently enough. Mornings in the courtyard, she would be sweeping while I drank chai on the charpai. The breeze would play with her saree, making the pallu slide off her shoulder. She would quickly pull it back, but not before I got a glimpse of her creamy cleavage, the black bra cupping those heavy mounds. I would look away, feeling guilty, but my eyes always drifted back. She noticed. I know she did, because sometimes she would let the pallu stay slipped a second longer, and when our eyes met, she would give a small, shy smile before adjusting it.
In the afternoons, when everyone napped, she would wash clothes near the hand pump. Her saree would get wet at the bottom, clinging to her legs, outlining her thick thighs and the curve of her ass. I would pretend to study under the neem tree nearby, but really I was watching the water droplets run down her neck into her blouse. One day, she caught me staring. “Amit, kitna padhoge? Thoda kaam bhi kar liya karo,” she teased, splashing a little water towards me. I laughed, but my heart was racing. Her blouse had become slightly transparent from the splashes, and I could see the dark outline of her nipples. Big, round areolas. My lund hardened instantly in my shorts.
Evenings were the worst. We all ate together on the floor, and she would serve food. When she leaned over me to put dal in my plate, her pallu would brush my shoulder, and I could smell her – that mix of soap, sweat, and something womanly that made me dizzy. Her breasts would hang heavy, almost touching my arm. I would keep my eyes down, but my mind was screaming. Bhaiya ki biwi hai, yeh galat hai, I would tell myself. But the more I tried to push the thoughts away, the stronger they came. At night, in my room, I would stroke my thick 7-inch lund thinking about her, imagining how soft those boobs would feel in my hands, how her chut would taste.
The tension kept building over weeks. One day, she asked me to help her carry a heavy water pot from the well. As we walked back, her hip brushed against mine with every step. “Amit, tum kitne strong ho gaye ho,” she said softly, looking at my arms. I mumbled something, but my eyes dropped to her swaying hips. That night, she complained of back pain during dinner. Ammi told her to rest, but later, when everyone was asleep, I heard a soft knock on my door. It was bhabhi, in her night saree, holding a bottle of balm.
“Amit, thodi si malish kar doge? Peeth mein bahut dard hai,” she whispered. My heart almost stopped. I nodded, unable to speak. She lay face down on my bed, pallu tucked aside. I poured balm on my palms and started rubbing her lower back. Her skin was so soft, warm. As I pressed harder, she let out small moans – “Ahh… wahin… thoda zor se…” My lund was rock hard, pressing against my lungi. I moved higher, my fingers brushing the side of her breasts. She didn’t stop me. Instead, she arched slightly, pushing them into my touch.
I grew bolder. My hands slid under her blouse, feeling the bare skin of her back. She shivered. “Bhabhi…” I whispered. She turned her face towards me, eyes half-closed. “Amit… kitne din se main akeli hoon… Rohan kabhi time hi nahi deta…” Her voice was husky. I couldn’t control myself anymore. I leaned down and kissed her neck. She gasped, but didn’t pull away. My hands moved to her front, cupping those heavy breasts over the blouse. They were even bigger than I imagined – full, soft yet firm, overflowing my palms. I squeezed gently, feeling the hard nipples poke through the fabric.
She turned over, eyes dark with desire. “Yeh galat hai, Amit… par… control nahi hota…” she murmured. I didn’t care. I kissed her lips – soft, full, tasting of elaichi. She kissed back hungrily, tongue sliding into my mouth. My hands worked quickly now, unhooking her blouse one hook at a time. The blouse opened, revealing her black bra straining against those massive boobs. I pulled the bra cups down, and they spilled out – perfect round 36D breasts, light brown areolas, thick nipples already hard like grapes.
I buried my face between them, inhaling her scent – sweat, talcum powder, and that musky womanly smell. I sucked one nipple hard, rolling the other between my fingers. Bhabhi moaned loudly now – “Ahhh… Amit… devarji… chooso mujhe…” Her hands pulled my head closer. I alternated between both breasts, sucking, biting gently, leaving wet trails of saliva. Her nipples were swollen, shiny from my mouth. She was writhing under me, her saree riding up her thighs.
I moved down, kissing her stomach, untying her petticoat string with trembling fingers. The petticoat loosened, and I pulled it down along with her saree. She lifted her hips to help me. Now she was only in her black panty, already soaked at the crotch. I could smell her arousal – strong, intoxicating. I kissed her inner thighs, slowly moving up. She spread her legs wider, breathing heavily. “Amit… please…”
I pulled her panty aside and stared at her chut – pink, swollen lips glistening with juices, a neat trim of black hair above. I parted her lips with my fingers, feeling the slippery wetness. She was dripping. I slid one finger inside – hot, tight, velvety. She gasped – “Haan… andar daalo…” I added another finger, pumping slowly while my thumb rubbed her clit. Her hips bucked, juices coating my hand. The room filled with wet squelching sounds and her moans – “Ahhh… devarji… bahut achha lag raha hai…”
I couldn’t wait anymore. I pulled down my lungi, my thick lund springing out, throbbing, pre-cum leaking from the tip. Bhabhi’s eyes widened. “Kitna bada hai tera…” she whispered, reaching out to stroke it. Her soft hand felt heavenly. She pumped it slowly, spreading the pre-cum over the head. Then she guided me between her legs.
I positioned myself and pushed in slowly. Her chut was incredibly tight, gripping my lund like a vice. Hot, wet, sucking me in. Inch by inch I went deeper until I was fully inside. We both groaned. “Bhabhi… kitni tight ho tum…” I started moving slowly, savoring every stroke. Her walls clenched around me, juices leaking out with every thrust. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room.
She wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper. “Chodo mujhe, Amit… zor se… kitne din se tari thi tere lund ki…” Her dirty words drove me wild. I pounded harder, her big boobs bouncing with every thrust. I grabbed them, squeezing hard while fucking her deep. She was moaning non-stop – “Ahhh… haan devarji… phaad do meri chut… aur zor se…”
We fucked like animals in missionary for what felt like hours. Sweat covered our bodies, making us slippery. Her scent was everywhere – musk, sex, sweat. I felt her first orgasm build – her chut tightened even more, she dug her nails into my back, body shaking. “Aaahhh… aa raha hai… oh god…” She came hard, juices gushing out, soaking the bedsheet.
But I wasn’t done. I pulled out and flipped her over onto her hands and knees. Her ass was round, perfect. I slapped it lightly, watching it jiggle. Then I entered her from behind – even deeper this way. She screamed into the pillow – “Haan… doggy mein chodo… phaad do mujhe…” I grabbed her hips and fucked her hard, my balls slapping against her clit. Her boobs swung wildly beneath her. I reached around to rub her clit while thrusting.
Second round was even more intense. She came again quickly, body convulsing, chut milking my lund. I kept going, feeling my own orgasm building. “Bhabhi… andar daalun?” I gasped. She nodded frantically – “Haan… creampie de de… bhar de meri chut…” With a final deep thrust, I exploded inside her, rope after rope of thick cum filling her up. We collapsed together, breathing heavily, my lund still twitching inside her.
But the night wasn’t over. After resting a few minutes, she turned to me, eyes still hungry. She pushed me onto my back and climbed on top. “Ab meri baari,” she whispered. She guided my semi-hard lund back into her cum-filled chut and started riding me slowly. The sight of her big boobs bouncing as she moved up and down was unreal. Cum and juices leaked out with every stroke, making obscene sounds.
She rode me faster, grinding her clit against me. I held her boobs, pinching nipples. She leaned down to kiss me, our tongues messy. Third orgasm hit her while on top – she sat down hard, body shaking, moaning my name. The feeling of her chut spasming pushed me over again. I thrust up and came inside her a second time, adding more cum to her already overflowing chut.
We fucked twice more that night – once with her sucking my lund clean (she swallowed every drop, looking into my eyes), and finally slow, intimate missionary where we whispered confessions of how long we had wanted this. By morning, we were exhausted, bodies sticky with sweat and cum, but satisfied in a way that felt both sinful and perfect.
That was the night our forbidden desires finally exploded. And though we knew it was wrong, in the weeks that followed, every stolen moment in the fields, behind the barn, or when the house slept – we gave in again and again, unable to stop the fire we had ignited.
Title: Lonely Village Bhabhi Seduced By Young Devar Incest Sex Story Real Taboo Experience Joint Family
Writer Name: Arjun Patel
Short Description: Hi, I'm Arjun, 22, from a Gujarat village joint family. My lonely bhabhi Sneha, neglected by bhaiya working in city, complained of body pain one humid night. I offered massage... what started innocent turned into forbidden passion, and that night our taboo desires finally exploded.
Content:
Hi, my name is Arjun Patel, and this is my true experience that happened two years ago when I was 22. I come from a typical middle-class family in a small village in Gujarat. Our house is a traditional joint family home – big courtyard, mud-plastered walls, tiled roof, rooms around the open space. My parents, grandparents, my elder brother Rajesh bhaiya, his wife Sneha bhabhi, and me – all under one roof. Village life is slow, hot summers, humid monsoon nights, everyone sleeping early after dinner.
Rajesh bhaiya is 29, works as a salesman in Ahmedabad, comes home only twice a month. He married Sneha bhabhi four years ago. Bhabhi is 26 now, and yaar, she is stunning. Fair wheatish skin, long black hair always oiled and braided, big expressive eyes, full lips that curve into a shy smile. But what makes every man in the village steal glances – her figure. Heavy 36D breasts that strain against her cotton blouses, deep cleavage always teasing when the pallu slips a little, round heavy hips, and a gaand that sways hypnotically when she walks with water pots. She does all household work – cooking, cleaning, washing – so her body is curvy, soft yet toned.
Since bhaiya is mostly away, I noticed bhabhi getting quieter, lonelier. She would talk to me more than anyone else. I had just finished my B.Com, was home for summer before job hunting. I’m 5’10”, average build, but village gym (lifting sacks, cycling) kept me fit. Bhabhi would tease me calling me “mota bhai” playfully, and I would help her in chores just to be near her.
The tension started small. In the kitchen, narrow space, when passing utensils our hands brushed. Her skin so soft, warm. I felt a jolt straight to my lund. She would look at me a second longer, then look away blushing. Sometimes her pallu would slip while bending to pick something, and I’d get a glimpse of deep valley between her big choochiyan, white bra cupping them. My lund would harden instantly under my shorts. I felt guilty – she’s my bhabhi – but the taboo thrill was too strong.
Nights were worst. Our rooms are adjacent, thin wall. Sometimes I heard her soft sighs, restless turning on the cot. I would lie awake, imagining her body under the thin cotton saree, hand on my throbbing lund, slowly stroking thinking of her.
One monsoon evening, it was very humid. Everyone had dinner early. Bhabhi complained of severe back and shoulder pain from washing clothes all day. Maa suggested hot oil massage but was too tired herself. I immediately offered, “Bhabhi, main kar deta hoon. College mein dost ko karta tha sports injury ke liye.”
She hesitated, looked at me with those big eyes, cheeks pink. “Nahi Arjun, sharmaungi… tu mera devar hai.”
But pain was bad, so she agreed. “Theek hai, but only back and shoulders, samjha?”
We went to her room after everyone slept. Small room, wooden cot, slow ceiling fan creaking, kerosene lantern giving dim yellow light. Rain pattering on tiles outside. She lay on her stomach on the cot, still in sky-blue saree. I warmed coconut oil in my palms, heart beating fast.
I started at shoulders over the blouse. Her body relaxed immediately. “Ahh… achha lag raha hai Arjun.” Her voice soft, husky.
I pressed deeper, thumbs circling knots. The thin blouse fabric, I could feel heat of her skin, bra strap outline. My lund already semi-hard. I moved lower, to mid-back, then waist where saree was tucked. My fingers accidentally brushed the soft bare skin above petticoat. She shivered slightly but didn’t stop me.
“Bhabhi, pallu thoda side kar do, better massage hoga.”
She silently moved pallu aside. Now blouse fully exposed, back hooks visible. The side of her heavy breasts bulging out from under her. I poured more oil, hands gliding smoother. Her breathing deeper. Soft moans escaped – “Mmm… haan wahin… ahh.”
I grew bolder, fingers slipping under blouse edge to touch bare back skin. So smooth, like malai. She didn’t protest. I undid two lower blouse hooks “for better access”. She gasped softly but stayed quiet.
Now half her creamy back bare. My cock fully hard, tenting shorts. I massaged lower, near waist, fingers brushing top of her gaand over saree. She arched slightly, pushing back into my hands.
“Arjun… bas shoulders hi the na…” but her voice lacked conviction.
I turned the conversation. “Bhabhi, aap itni sundar ho, bhaiya ko aapki kitni yaad aati hogi city mein?”
She laughed softly, sad tone. “Yaad? Unko toh kaam se fursat hi nahi. Mahine mein do baar aate hain, woh bhi thake haare.”
I felt anger at bhaiya, but also opportunity. My hands now openly kneading her bare waist. “Aap deserve karte ho daily pampering bhabhi.”
She turned her head, looked at me. Eyes shining in lantern light. “Tu bahut sweet hai Arjun.”
I couldn’t control. I leaned down, kissed her exposed shoulder lightly. She froze, then shivered. “Arjun… ye kya…”
But she didn’t move away. I kissed again, tongue tasting her salty skin. Hands moved up, unhooked remaining blouse hooks one by one. Blouse opened fully. She was wearing white bra. I gently pulled blouse out from under her.
Now only bra and saree. Her breathing fast. “Arjun… galat hai ye… hum devar-bhabhi hain…”
My voice thick with lust. “Bhabhi, I can’t stop wanting you. Aap bhi akeli ho… mujhe bhi aap chahiye.”
She turned over slowly, lying on back. Eyes half closed, lips parted. Pallu completely fallen, breasts heaving in bra, deep cleavage glistening with little sweat. “Sirf aaj ke liye… kisi ko pata nahi chalna chahiye.”
That was all I needed. I straddled her thighs, hands cupping her heavy breasts over bra. So full, soft yet firm, overflowing my palms. I squeezed gently. She moaned “Ahhh… dheere…”
I unhooked bra front (it was front-open thankfully). Bra cups fell aside. Her big choochiyan bounced free. Dark brown areolas, thick nipples already hard like ripe grapes. I stared hungrily. “Bhabhi… aapke boobs kitne bade aur sundar hain.”
I lowered mouth, took one nipple in, sucking hard. Tongue circling. She arched back, hands in my hair. “Sss… ahh Arjun… choos zor se… haan aise hi…”
I alternated breasts, sucking, biting lightly, hands kneading the soft flesh. Her skin tasted of sweat and faint jasmine gajra. Nipples swollen under my tongue. She was writhing now.
My cock painfully hard. I stood, removed t-shirt, shorts. My 7-inch lund sprang out, thick, veins pulsing, tip wet with pre-cum. Bhabhi stared wide-eyed. “Arjun… kitna bada hai tera…”
She reached, wrapped soft hand around it. Stroked slowly. Pre-cum smeared on her palm. I groaned.
I pulled her saree pallu completely off, untucked pleats. Saree slid down. Now only petticoat and panty. I untied petticoat string, pulled it down her wide hips. White cotton panty soaked at crotch. Musky smell of her arousal hit me.
I kissed down her belly, soft pooch, navel. Hooked fingers in panty, pulled down slowly. Her chut came into view – trimmed hair, pink lips puffy, glistening wet. Strong womanly scent. I spread her thighs.
“Bhabhi… aapki chut kitni geeli hai mere liye.”
She covered face shyly. “Dekh mat aise… sharma rahi hoon.”
I buried face between her legs. Tongue licked outer lips, tasting tangy juices. She bucked. “Ohhh maaa… Arjun… aise nahi kiya kabhi…”
I licked deeper, tongue inside her tight hole, then flicked clit. She grabbed my head, hips grinding on my face. Juices flowing, coating my chin. Her moans louder “Ahh… haan wahin… choos meri chut devarji… ahhhh!”
She came first time – body shaking, thighs clamping my head, crying out “Bas… aa rahi hoon!”
I didn’t stop till she pushed me away panting.
Now I couldn’t wait. Knelt between her legs, lund rubbing her wet slit. “Bhabhi… andar daalun?”
She nodded frantically. “Haan Arjun… chod mujhe… bhar de apni bhabhi ko.”
I pushed in slowly. Her chut incredibly tight, hot, wet walls gripping my lund. Halfway in she gasped “Dheere… bahut mota hai tera…”
I waited, then pushed fully. Buried to hilt. We both groaned. I started slow thrusts. Her big boobs jiggling with each stroke. I leaned down sucking them while fucking.
Speed increased. Room filled with sounds – wet slapping, her moans “Ahh… ahh… chod… zor se… haan devarji fuck kar apni bhabhi ko!”
I pounded harder. Her nails digging my back. Second orgasm hit her – chut spasming around my lund, milking me.
I felt close. “Bhabhi… andar hi daalun?”
“Haan… creampie de… bhar de meri chut!”
I thrust deep, exploded inside her. Rope after rope of thick cum filling her womb. Body shaking with pleasure.
We stayed joined, breathing heavy. My cum leaking out around my lund.
But we weren’t done. After few minutes, she pushed me on back, climbed on top. Her heavy breasts hanging, nipples still wet from my saliva. She guided my still-hard lund inside again. Started riding.
View was heavenly – bhabhi bouncing, boobs slapping, hair open now wild. She rode hard, grinding clit. “Ahh… kitna achha lagta hai tera lund andar…”
I grabbed her gaand, squeezed the soft flesh, helped her bounce. Third orgasm for her, screaming my name.
I flipped her doggy style. Her big round ass up, chut dripping our mixed juices. I entered from behind, deep hard strokes. Balls slapping her clit. She pushed back greedily.
“Thap thap thap” sound echoing. I slapped her ass lightly, watching it jiggle. She loved it. “Haan maar… zor se chod!”
Final round – I fucked her senseless till I came second time deep inside.
We collapsed, sweaty bodies entangled. She kissed me softly. “Arjun… ye galat tha… lekin bahut zaruri tha. Mujhe aisa sukh kabhi nahi mila.”
I held her tight. “Bhabhi, ab se jab bhi bhaiya nahi honge, main aapka pati banunga raat ko.”
She smiled shyly. That night changed everything. Whenever we got chance – kitchen quickie, fields, even once in barn – we fucked like animals. The taboo thrill never faded.
Even now when I think of that first night, my lund gets hard. Sneha bhabhi is still the hottest woman I’ve ever had, and our secret continues whenever I visit village.