My name is Ananya. At 29, I was married for four years to my husband Rohan—good man, decent job in Mumbai, but in bed? Routine, quick, lights off, twice a month if lucky. I craved more—wild touch, someone who looked at me like I was everything. I kept myself desirable—gym three times a week, 36DD breasts still firm, toned waist, curvy hips, long black hair I left loose at home, fair skin with that post-yoga glow. People said I looked like a hotter version of Deepika. And the one who stared the most? My devar, Reyansh.
Reyansh was 19, Rohan’s younger brother, studying engineering in Pune, home for holidays. Tall, lean from college sports, innocent face with those serious eyes, shy around girls. Virgin—I knew from overhearing his friends tease him. But with me, his glances lingered—my low-neck tops, tight leggings at home, bending to pick something showing cleavage. I’d catch him, smile inwardly. The bhabhi devar forbidden attraction had been building for a year—accidental touches, long hugs, me teasing “mera handsome devar” while patting his cheek.
This monsoon, the family planned Mahabaleshwar—strawberry farms, viewpoints, escape Mumbai heat. Rohan, me, parents-in-law, Reyansh. Booked a beautiful resort cottage cluster. But heavy rains caused leaks—roofs damaged. Only two dry cottages. Parents-in-law one. That left Rohan, me, and Reyansh in the larger one—king bed and a small sofa bed.
Rohan shrugged. “Main sofa pe so jaunga. Headache hai waise bhi barsaat se.” Reyansh blushed. I felt a dangerous thrill. “Haan ji, devar ke saath toh adjust ho jaayega. Kitna shareef hai mera Reyansh.”
The cottage was cozy—wooden, fireplace crackling against rain, large bed with heavy quilts, windows misty with views of strawberry fields shrouded in fog.
First night, after venison dinner and local wine, Rohan passed out early on sofa, snoring. Reyansh and I took the bed, careful distance.
Rain pounded the roof like drums. Thunder rumbled.
“Devar,” I whispered after lights out, “so gaya?”
“Nahi bhabhi… barsaat ki awaaz… aur thand.”
I smiled in dark. “Aa ja paas. Bhabhi garam kar degi apne sweet devar ko.”
He shifted closer, hesitant. I turned my back to him, pulled his arm over my waist. My ass—full, in thin shorts—pressed against his crotch. Felt him harden instantly.
He froze.
I ground back slowly. “Yeh kya hai itna sakht, devar?” My hand reached back, cupping his bulge. “Mera shy devar… itna mota lund? Bhabhi ko pata tha tu mujhe chupke dekhta hai—gym leggings mein gaand, low-neck tops mein boobs.”
He groaned low. “Bhabhi please… bhaiya yahin hain…”
“Shh… bhaiya so rahe hain. Aur yeh bhabhi devar forbidden attraction humara secret rahega.” I squeezed. “Bata… kitni baar bhabhi ke boobs dekh ke muth maara? Meri bra soongh ke laundry mein? Meri gaand ko hilte dekh ke lund hilata tha na?”
“Haan bhabhi… roz… aapki selfies… sorry…”
I turned facing him, eyes locked. “Sorry kyun? Aaj bhabhi tujhe sab sikhaayegi. Apne devar ka virgin lund apni geeli chut mein legi.”
I pushed him back, straddled quietly. Shorts and top—top cropped, no bra, nipples hard. Shorts no panties. Pulled his pajamas down. His cock—thick, long, veiny.
“Waah devar… tera bhaiya se mota. Yeh toh bhabhi ki chut phaad dega.”
Stroked. Took in mouth—deep, sloppy quiet.
Swallowed his quick load.
Stripped—heavy tits.
He sucked greedily.
Licked me to orgasm.
Rode him—slow to wild.
Multiple rounds, careful not to wake bhaiya.
Reyansh was 19, Rohan’s younger brother, studying engineering in Pune, home for holidays. Tall, lean from college sports, innocent face with those serious eyes, shy around girls. Virgin—I knew from overhearing his friends tease him. But with me, his glances lingered—my low-neck tops, tight leggings at home, bending to pick something showing cleavage. I’d catch him, smile inwardly. The bhabhi devar forbidden attraction had been building for a year—accidental touches, long hugs, me teasing “mera handsome devar” while patting his cheek.
This monsoon, the family planned Mahabaleshwar—strawberry farms, viewpoints, escape Mumbai heat. Rohan, me, parents-in-law, Reyansh. Booked a beautiful resort cottage cluster. But heavy rains caused leaks—roofs damaged. Only two dry cottages. Parents-in-law one. That left Rohan, me, and Reyansh in the larger one—king bed and a small sofa bed.
Rohan shrugged. “Main sofa pe so jaunga. Headache hai waise bhi barsaat se.” Reyansh blushed. I felt a dangerous thrill. “Haan ji, devar ke saath toh adjust ho jaayega. Kitna shareef hai mera Reyansh.”
The cottage was cozy—wooden, fireplace crackling against rain, large bed with heavy quilts, windows misty with views of strawberry fields shrouded in fog.
First night, after venison dinner and local wine, Rohan passed out early on sofa, snoring. Reyansh and I took the bed, careful distance.
Rain pounded the roof like drums. Thunder rumbled.
“Devar,” I whispered after lights out, “so gaya?”
“Nahi bhabhi… barsaat ki awaaz… aur thand.”
I smiled in dark. “Aa ja paas. Bhabhi garam kar degi apne sweet devar ko.”
He shifted closer, hesitant. I turned my back to him, pulled his arm over my waist. My ass—full, in thin shorts—pressed against his crotch. Felt him harden instantly.
He froze.
I ground back slowly. “Yeh kya hai itna sakht, devar?” My hand reached back, cupping his bulge. “Mera shy devar… itna mota lund? Bhabhi ko pata tha tu mujhe chupke dekhta hai—gym leggings mein gaand, low-neck tops mein boobs.”
He groaned low. “Bhabhi please… bhaiya yahin hain…”
“Shh… bhaiya so rahe hain. Aur yeh bhabhi devar forbidden attraction humara secret rahega.” I squeezed. “Bata… kitni baar bhabhi ke boobs dekh ke muth maara? Meri bra soongh ke laundry mein? Meri gaand ko hilte dekh ke lund hilata tha na?”
“Haan bhabhi… roz… aapki selfies… sorry…”
I turned facing him, eyes locked. “Sorry kyun? Aaj bhabhi tujhe sab sikhaayegi. Apne devar ka virgin lund apni geeli chut mein legi.”
I pushed him back, straddled quietly. Shorts and top—top cropped, no bra, nipples hard. Shorts no panties. Pulled his pajamas down. His cock—thick, long, veiny.
“Waah devar… tera bhaiya se mota. Yeh toh bhabhi ki chut phaad dega.”
Stroked. Took in mouth—deep, sloppy quiet.
Swallowed his quick load.
Stripped—heavy tits.
He sucked greedily.
Licked me to orgasm.
Rode him—slow to wild.
Multiple rounds, careful not to wake bhaiya.