My name is Karan Sharma and I am thirty years old, married for six years to Priya, living in a large joint family house in the posh C-Scheme area of Jaipur. Our home is one of those beautiful old Rajasthani havelis renovated with modern touches — high ceilings with fresco paintings, marble courtyards with a central fountain, carved jharokhas overlooking the street, a wide terrace where we host sangeet functions, and multiple bedrooms filled with the constant laughter of cousins, the smell of maa’s besan laddoo, and the sound of dhol practice during wedding season. My father runs a successful jewellery business in Johari Bazaar, always busy with clients and tours. Maa manages the house like a queen — organizing pujas, festivals, and family events with precision. Priya is the perfect bahu — calm, responsible, always helping maa in the kitchen, taking care of my needs with quiet love. We have a four-year-old daughter who is the darling of the house.
Then there is my saali — Riya — Priya’s younger sister, twenty-two years old, just completed her fashion designing course from a college in Delhi, and back home for the wedding season of our youngest cousin. Riya has always been the naughty one — teasing me since the day I married Priya, calling me “Jiju ji” with that mischievous smile, pulling pranks during festivals, asking me to buy her ice-cream or take her shopping on my bike. I treated her like a little sister — scolding her for late nights, helping with college projects, defending her when maa complained about her short kurtis. But this year something was different. After college she had transformed — fair glowing skin, long wavy black hair with highlights, big kajal-lined eyes that could turn innocent or seductive in a second, full glossy lips, and a body that made every outfit look like a weapon — heavy C-cup breasts that bounced slightly when she walked fast, tiny waist with a navel piercing, flared hips, and a perfectly round gaand that jiggled in her tight jeans or low-waist lehengas.
The wedding season started in November 2025 — our youngest cousin’s marriage fixed for February, one full month of functions: roka, tilak, haldi, mehendi, sangeet, baraat, reception. The entire family descended on the house. Riya came back to stay for the entire month, sharing the guest room on the first floor next to ours. She was single after a bad breakup with some Delhi boy — so free, playful, and dangerously bold. She started wearing revealing clothes at home — crop tops showing her navel piercing, low-waist lehengas for practice, short nighties at night that barely covered her thighs. She teased me constantly — “Jiju ji aap Priya di ko kitna pyar karte ho, mujhe bhi toh sikhao na”, “Jiju ji yeh lehenga tight hai kya? Check karo na back se”, bending low in front of me during decoration work so her cleavage was on full display, “accidentally” brushing her gaand against my crotch when passing in narrow corridors.
I tried to ignore. I told myself she is saali, Priya’s sister, family, just teasing like always. But my lund betrayed me every time — hardening painfully in my pajamas, making me avoid her eyes during dinner. Priya noticed my distraction but thought it was work stress. Maa praised Riya for being so helpful with wedding work. No one suspected the storm brewing.
The first real incident happened on a cold December night during sangeet practice. Power cut at 11 p.m. — common in Jaipur winters. Everyone went to sleep early because of exhaustion. Priya was sleeping deeply after taking medicine for headache. I couldn’t sleep — went to the terrace for fresh air. Riya was already there — wearing a thin black satin nighty, hair open, leaning on the parapet looking at the city lights. The nighty was short — mid-thigh — straps slipping off shoulders, neckline low, breasts almost spilling out. She turned when she heard me, smiled that naughty smile and whispered “Jiju ji… neend nahi aa rahi? Practice mein thak gaye na?” I nodded, stood beside her. The air was charged. She leaned closer, her breast brushing my arm, whispered “Jiju ji… aap bohot handsome lagte ho jab serious hote ho… Priya di kitni lucky hain”.
I felt my throat dry. My lund hardened. Guilt exploded — she is saali, Priya’s sister, family — but the forbidden heat was stronger. She turned to face me, so close I could feel her breath, her body heat. She placed her hand on my chest, felt my heartbeat, whispered “Jiju ji… dil bohot zor se dhadak raha hai… kyun?” Before I could answer she kissed me — soft lips brushing mine, then deeper, tongue sliding in tasting like strawberry from her lip balm. I kissed back — hungry, desperate after weeks of tension. Her tongue explored my mouth, her hands went to my neck pulling me closer. My hands moved on their own — one went to her waist pulling her tight, the other cupped her gaand squeezing hard through the satin. She moaned softly into my mouth uffff Jiju ji kitna zor se pakad rahe ho.
I pushed her against the parapet wall, lifted her nighty — no panty, choot already wet glistening in moonlight. I touched her there — first time. She gasped aaaahhhh… I fingered her slowly then faster feeling her tight walls clench around me while she moaned continuously ungli andar daal Jiju ji saali ki choot mein ungli kar zor se kar. She came hard shaking violently biting her own hand to muffle the scream aaaahhhhh jhad rahi hoon Jiju ji saali jhad rahi hai squirting on my fingers. After that she pushed me against the wall freed my lund stroked it slowly whispered kitna mota hai Jiju ji ka lund saali ne kabhi socha nahi tha. Then she took me in her mouth sucked slowly tongue swirling around the topi taking me deep until I came in her mouth hot thick spurts and she swallowed every drop licked her lips saying Jiju ji ka maal kitna tasty hai saali ko roz chahiye ab.
We did not stop there. I pulled her nighty up ate her choot for the first time — tongue inside circling clit sucking hard fingers pumping deep while moonlight shone on her body. She came again shaking violently squirting on my face. Then she climbed on top guided my lund inside her slowly taking me inch by inch aaaahhhh kitna bada hai Jiju ji ka lund saali ki choot phaad doge. She rode me hard bouncing her breasts in my face while I sucked them slapped her gaand lightly making her moan zor se maar Jiju ji apni saali ki gaand maar zor se. We changed positions missionary with her legs over my shoulders deep hard thrusts doggy where I held her hips pounded from behind watching her gaand jiggle reverse cowgirl so I could see her choot swallowing my lund completely. She came four times clenching around me milking me before I exploded inside her garam garam maal daal de Jiju ji saali ke andar bhar de poora bhar de.
We lay there panting sweating on the terrace floor under the stars her head on my chest whispering Jiju ji yeh galat hai par saali ko ab sirf aap chahiye roz raat ko. Guilt crashed over me like a wave — she is saali Priya’s sister family — but the addiction had already begun.
From that night our secret life started. Wedding preparations were in full swing — relatives arriving every day, decorators working, catering people coming for tasting — but we found moments. Quick afternoon sessions when Priya went to parlour or market, long terrace fucks when everyone napped, early morning quickies before anyone woke. Nights when the house slept after long wedding functions she would come to my room or call me to the terrace. We explored everything — slow love-making with deep kisses rough fucking with hair pulling biting slapping. She taught me how to eat her choot properly tongue on her clit slow circles then fast flicks fingers in her g-spot until she squirted on my face zor se chaat Jiju ji jeebh andar daal poori choot chaat le saali ka pani pee le. I learned how to make her come multiple times how to bite her nipples just hard enough to make her scream softly how to finger her gaand lightly teasing the tight hole while I licked her choot. She sucked my lund every time sometimes slow worshipful sometimes fast sloppy until I came in her mouth on her breasts even once on her face which she licked clean saying Jiju ji saali ko aapka maal har jagah pasand hai.
The risk grew with every passing day. Once during mehendi function when everyone was downstairs applying henna she pulled me to the storeroom on the second floor, locked the door, lifted her lehenga, no panty underneath, guided me inside her standing. I fucked her hard against the wall, hand over her mouth, music below covering our moans. I came inside her in under three minutes, cum dripping down her thighs while she fixed her lehenga and went back to show her mehendi with a satisfied smile. Another time during sangeet practice when the house was full of guests she came to my room at 3 a.m., climbed on my bed, rode me silently while the whole house slept around us. The fear of someone walking in only made her choot tighter, my thrusts harder.
The wedding day came. Riya looked like a goddess in her heavy pink lehenga, gold jewellery, bright makeup. I stood beside Priya during the rituals, my heart breaking and burning at the same time. When the groom applied sindoor in some other girl’s maang I felt relief and pain — Riya was still mine, at least for now. After the vidai when most guests left Riya whispered in my ear when no one was listening Jiju ji… abhi toh shuruaat hai… Priya di ke saath rehkar bhi main aapki rahungi.
Months passed. The wedding season ended but Riya found excuses to visit — “college project”, “shopping with di”, “helping maa with something”. Priya was happy to have her sister around, never suspected anything. Those visits became our secret heaven. Maa-papa are happy to see her, never suspect anything. We fuck in every corner of the house when everyone sleeps — her old room, terrace, kitchen, even once in the puja room while maa was downstairs. She still takes pills but sometimes forgets on purpose whispers Jiju ji agar pet ho gaya toh… saali khush hogi aapka baccha paalne mein.
Now January 13 2026 Priya is planning a trip to her parents for a week. Riya has already messaged me “Jiju ji… Priya di jab jayegi tab poori raat poore din… tera saara maal saali ke andar… promise?”
I know this is the ultimate sin. I know one day it will destroy everything — my marriage, family honor, Priya’s trust, Riya’s future. But when Riya calls me Jiju ji with that hungry voice, spreads her legs, begs for my lund — I can’t stop. This sin this love this addiction has become my oxygen.
Tonight Priya is sleeping early after long day. Riya is coming tomorrow for “weekend stay”. She has already sent a photo in black lace nighty with caption “Jiju ji ready rakhna… saali aa rahi hai apne lund ke liye”. I will wait for her. When she comes maa-papa will welcome her with open arms. And at night when the house sleeps she will come to my room wearing her favorite black lace nighty door slightly open eyes full of promise. I will go to her. I will kiss her deeply suck her nipples until she begs eat her choot until she squirts fuck her in every position fill her with my cum while she moans Jiju ji bhar de saali ke andar poora bhar de.
This is our life now — daylight family midnight lovers. Guilt is there sharp like knife but desire is bigger. Love is there twisted forbidden but real. And we can’t stop. We won’t stop.
The nights stretch on. The risks grow. The creampies continue. Every time I fill her I imagine the impossible — a child that is ours but never can be acknowledged. The thought terrifies me arouses me binds me tighter to her. Riya has become my obsession my weakness my reason to breathe my secret sin.
In the posh lanes of C-Scheme where life moves fast and secrets hide behind high gates we keep burning together — two souls trapped in a love that should never exist but feels more real than anything else in this world.
And so it continues — more visits more midnights more positions more whispered Jiju ji more creampies more love wrapped in guilt wrapped in ecstasy wrapped in the unbreakable forbidden bond between a jiju and his saali.
The small everyday moments are what make this addiction so impossible to break. Every time she visits maa makes her favorite gatte ki sabzi. Riya sits beside me at dinner table her foot rubs my lund slowly under the table while maa talks about relatives and papa complains about prices. The danger of someone noticing makes my lund throb harder her touch more electric. When dinner ends she gets up adjusts her saree whispers raat ko terrace pe der se aana and walks away swaying her hips knowing I will follow.
Nights when she is here become our private world. Some nights she wants slow tender love — lying side by side spooning position me entering her from behind slow deep strokes while I kiss her neck whisper Riya I love you she whispers Jiju ji saali bhi tujhse pyar karti hai. Other nights she wants raw animal lust — pushing me on the bed riding me hard grinding her hips slapping her own gaand while moaning zor se chod Jiju ji apni saali ko maar do phaad do choot ko. She has learned to squeeze her inner muscles around my lund making me cum faster sometimes milking me dry before I can even thrust properly. I have learned to rub her clit in fast circles while fucking her making her squirt on the bedsheet soaking everything.
The risk keeps increasing. Once during her last visit when maa-papa were watching TV downstairs she pulled me into the bathroom locked the door lifted her nighty bent over the sink let me fuck her hard fast water running from the tap to cover the sounds of flesh slapping while maa called her name from the living room. I came inside her in under three minutes cum dripping down her thighs as she fixed her nighty went back to watch TV like nothing happened.
The emotional depth is what makes this impossible to quit. Some nights after sex she cries softly in my arms saying Jiju ji mujhe bohot guilty feel hota hai Priya di ke saath yeh kar rahi hoon par ruk nahi paati… tujhse pyar ho gaya hai real wala pyar. I hold her tight kiss her tears tell her I feel the same guilt every day but the love is stronger that I can’t live without her touch her moans her choot clenching around me. We talk about impossible future — her breaking her engagement moving in with me or me helping her start a boutique so she can be independent. She has started taking contraceptive pills secretly because pregnancy risk is too high but sometimes she forgets on purpose whispers agar ho gaya toh saali khush hogi tera baccha paalne mein. The thought scares me but also arouses me like nothing else making me take her harder deeper filling her with even more cum.
As January 13 2026 continues Priya is planning her parents visit next week. Riya has already told her she will stay longer because “college project”. Those days will be ours — full days full nights no hiding no hurry complete surrender. No office some days no college for her. The house will be quiet. She wants me to take her in every room every corner — kitchen courtyard terrace Priya’s room even the puja room. She wants me to fill her every time no condom no pulling out. She whispers Jiju ji agar is hafte mein pet ho gaya toh saali khush hogi tera baccha paalne mein.
I know this is the ultimate sin. I know one day it will destroy everything — my marriage family honor Priya’s trust Riya’s future. But when Riya calls me Jiju ji with that hungry voice, spreads her legs, begs for my lund — I can’t stop. This sin this love this addiction has become my oxygen.
Tonight Priya is sleeping early after long day. Riya is coming tomorrow for “weekend stay”. She has already sent a photo in black lace nighty with caption “Jiju ji ready rakhna… saali aa rahi hai apne lund ke liye”. I will wait for her. When she comes maa-papa will welcome her with open arms. And at night when the house sleeps she will come to my room wearing her favorite black lace nighty door slightly open eyes full of promise. I will go to her. I will kiss her deeply suck her nipples until she begs eat her choot until she squirts fuck her in every position fill her with my cum while she moans Jiju ji bhar de saali ke andar poora bhar de.
This is our life now — daylight family midnight lovers. Guilt is there sharp like knife but desire is bigger. Love is there twisted forbidden but real. And we can’t stop. We won’t stop.
The nights stretch on. The risks grow. The creampies continue. Every time I fill her I imagine the impossible — a child that is ours but never can be acknowledged. The thought terrifies me arouses me binds me tighter to her. Riya has become my obsession my weakness my reason to breathe my secret sin.
In the posh lanes of C-Scheme where life moves fast and secrets hide behind high gates we keep burning together — two souls trapped in a love that should never exist but feels more real than anything else in this world.
And so it continues — more visits more midnights more positions more whispered Jiju ji more creampies more love wrapped in guilt wrapped in ecstasy wrapped in the unbreakable forbidden bond between a jiju and his saali.
Then there is my saali — Riya — Priya’s younger sister, twenty-two years old, just completed her fashion designing course from a college in Delhi, and back home for the wedding season of our youngest cousin. Riya has always been the naughty one — teasing me since the day I married Priya, calling me “Jiju ji” with that mischievous smile, pulling pranks during festivals, asking me to buy her ice-cream or take her shopping on my bike. I treated her like a little sister — scolding her for late nights, helping with college projects, defending her when maa complained about her short kurtis. But this year something was different. After college she had transformed — fair glowing skin, long wavy black hair with highlights, big kajal-lined eyes that could turn innocent or seductive in a second, full glossy lips, and a body that made every outfit look like a weapon — heavy C-cup breasts that bounced slightly when she walked fast, tiny waist with a navel piercing, flared hips, and a perfectly round gaand that jiggled in her tight jeans or low-waist lehengas.
The wedding season started in November 2025 — our youngest cousin’s marriage fixed for February, one full month of functions: roka, tilak, haldi, mehendi, sangeet, baraat, reception. The entire family descended on the house. Riya came back to stay for the entire month, sharing the guest room on the first floor next to ours. She was single after a bad breakup with some Delhi boy — so free, playful, and dangerously bold. She started wearing revealing clothes at home — crop tops showing her navel piercing, low-waist lehengas for practice, short nighties at night that barely covered her thighs. She teased me constantly — “Jiju ji aap Priya di ko kitna pyar karte ho, mujhe bhi toh sikhao na”, “Jiju ji yeh lehenga tight hai kya? Check karo na back se”, bending low in front of me during decoration work so her cleavage was on full display, “accidentally” brushing her gaand against my crotch when passing in narrow corridors.
I tried to ignore. I told myself she is saali, Priya’s sister, family, just teasing like always. But my lund betrayed me every time — hardening painfully in my pajamas, making me avoid her eyes during dinner. Priya noticed my distraction but thought it was work stress. Maa praised Riya for being so helpful with wedding work. No one suspected the storm brewing.
The first real incident happened on a cold December night during sangeet practice. Power cut at 11 p.m. — common in Jaipur winters. Everyone went to sleep early because of exhaustion. Priya was sleeping deeply after taking medicine for headache. I couldn’t sleep — went to the terrace for fresh air. Riya was already there — wearing a thin black satin nighty, hair open, leaning on the parapet looking at the city lights. The nighty was short — mid-thigh — straps slipping off shoulders, neckline low, breasts almost spilling out. She turned when she heard me, smiled that naughty smile and whispered “Jiju ji… neend nahi aa rahi? Practice mein thak gaye na?” I nodded, stood beside her. The air was charged. She leaned closer, her breast brushing my arm, whispered “Jiju ji… aap bohot handsome lagte ho jab serious hote ho… Priya di kitni lucky hain”.
I felt my throat dry. My lund hardened. Guilt exploded — she is saali, Priya’s sister, family — but the forbidden heat was stronger. She turned to face me, so close I could feel her breath, her body heat. She placed her hand on my chest, felt my heartbeat, whispered “Jiju ji… dil bohot zor se dhadak raha hai… kyun?” Before I could answer she kissed me — soft lips brushing mine, then deeper, tongue sliding in tasting like strawberry from her lip balm. I kissed back — hungry, desperate after weeks of tension. Her tongue explored my mouth, her hands went to my neck pulling me closer. My hands moved on their own — one went to her waist pulling her tight, the other cupped her gaand squeezing hard through the satin. She moaned softly into my mouth uffff Jiju ji kitna zor se pakad rahe ho.
I pushed her against the parapet wall, lifted her nighty — no panty, choot already wet glistening in moonlight. I touched her there — first time. She gasped aaaahhhh… I fingered her slowly then faster feeling her tight walls clench around me while she moaned continuously ungli andar daal Jiju ji saali ki choot mein ungli kar zor se kar. She came hard shaking violently biting her own hand to muffle the scream aaaahhhhh jhad rahi hoon Jiju ji saali jhad rahi hai squirting on my fingers. After that she pushed me against the wall freed my lund stroked it slowly whispered kitna mota hai Jiju ji ka lund saali ne kabhi socha nahi tha. Then she took me in her mouth sucked slowly tongue swirling around the topi taking me deep until I came in her mouth hot thick spurts and she swallowed every drop licked her lips saying Jiju ji ka maal kitna tasty hai saali ko roz chahiye ab.
We did not stop there. I pulled her nighty up ate her choot for the first time — tongue inside circling clit sucking hard fingers pumping deep while moonlight shone on her body. She came again shaking violently squirting on my face. Then she climbed on top guided my lund inside her slowly taking me inch by inch aaaahhhh kitna bada hai Jiju ji ka lund saali ki choot phaad doge. She rode me hard bouncing her breasts in my face while I sucked them slapped her gaand lightly making her moan zor se maar Jiju ji apni saali ki gaand maar zor se. We changed positions missionary with her legs over my shoulders deep hard thrusts doggy where I held her hips pounded from behind watching her gaand jiggle reverse cowgirl so I could see her choot swallowing my lund completely. She came four times clenching around me milking me before I exploded inside her garam garam maal daal de Jiju ji saali ke andar bhar de poora bhar de.
We lay there panting sweating on the terrace floor under the stars her head on my chest whispering Jiju ji yeh galat hai par saali ko ab sirf aap chahiye roz raat ko. Guilt crashed over me like a wave — she is saali Priya’s sister family — but the addiction had already begun.
From that night our secret life started. Wedding preparations were in full swing — relatives arriving every day, decorators working, catering people coming for tasting — but we found moments. Quick afternoon sessions when Priya went to parlour or market, long terrace fucks when everyone napped, early morning quickies before anyone woke. Nights when the house slept after long wedding functions she would come to my room or call me to the terrace. We explored everything — slow love-making with deep kisses rough fucking with hair pulling biting slapping. She taught me how to eat her choot properly tongue on her clit slow circles then fast flicks fingers in her g-spot until she squirted on my face zor se chaat Jiju ji jeebh andar daal poori choot chaat le saali ka pani pee le. I learned how to make her come multiple times how to bite her nipples just hard enough to make her scream softly how to finger her gaand lightly teasing the tight hole while I licked her choot. She sucked my lund every time sometimes slow worshipful sometimes fast sloppy until I came in her mouth on her breasts even once on her face which she licked clean saying Jiju ji saali ko aapka maal har jagah pasand hai.
The risk grew with every passing day. Once during mehendi function when everyone was downstairs applying henna she pulled me to the storeroom on the second floor, locked the door, lifted her lehenga, no panty underneath, guided me inside her standing. I fucked her hard against the wall, hand over her mouth, music below covering our moans. I came inside her in under three minutes, cum dripping down her thighs while she fixed her lehenga and went back to show her mehendi with a satisfied smile. Another time during sangeet practice when the house was full of guests she came to my room at 3 a.m., climbed on my bed, rode me silently while the whole house slept around us. The fear of someone walking in only made her choot tighter, my thrusts harder.
The wedding day came. Riya looked like a goddess in her heavy pink lehenga, gold jewellery, bright makeup. I stood beside Priya during the rituals, my heart breaking and burning at the same time. When the groom applied sindoor in some other girl’s maang I felt relief and pain — Riya was still mine, at least for now. After the vidai when most guests left Riya whispered in my ear when no one was listening Jiju ji… abhi toh shuruaat hai… Priya di ke saath rehkar bhi main aapki rahungi.
Months passed. The wedding season ended but Riya found excuses to visit — “college project”, “shopping with di”, “helping maa with something”. Priya was happy to have her sister around, never suspected anything. Those visits became our secret heaven. Maa-papa are happy to see her, never suspect anything. We fuck in every corner of the house when everyone sleeps — her old room, terrace, kitchen, even once in the puja room while maa was downstairs. She still takes pills but sometimes forgets on purpose whispers Jiju ji agar pet ho gaya toh… saali khush hogi aapka baccha paalne mein.
Now January 13 2026 Priya is planning a trip to her parents for a week. Riya has already messaged me “Jiju ji… Priya di jab jayegi tab poori raat poore din… tera saara maal saali ke andar… promise?”
I know this is the ultimate sin. I know one day it will destroy everything — my marriage, family honor, Priya’s trust, Riya’s future. But when Riya calls me Jiju ji with that hungry voice, spreads her legs, begs for my lund — I can’t stop. This sin this love this addiction has become my oxygen.
Tonight Priya is sleeping early after long day. Riya is coming tomorrow for “weekend stay”. She has already sent a photo in black lace nighty with caption “Jiju ji ready rakhna… saali aa rahi hai apne lund ke liye”. I will wait for her. When she comes maa-papa will welcome her with open arms. And at night when the house sleeps she will come to my room wearing her favorite black lace nighty door slightly open eyes full of promise. I will go to her. I will kiss her deeply suck her nipples until she begs eat her choot until she squirts fuck her in every position fill her with my cum while she moans Jiju ji bhar de saali ke andar poora bhar de.
This is our life now — daylight family midnight lovers. Guilt is there sharp like knife but desire is bigger. Love is there twisted forbidden but real. And we can’t stop. We won’t stop.
The nights stretch on. The risks grow. The creampies continue. Every time I fill her I imagine the impossible — a child that is ours but never can be acknowledged. The thought terrifies me arouses me binds me tighter to her. Riya has become my obsession my weakness my reason to breathe my secret sin.
In the posh lanes of C-Scheme where life moves fast and secrets hide behind high gates we keep burning together — two souls trapped in a love that should never exist but feels more real than anything else in this world.
And so it continues — more visits more midnights more positions more whispered Jiju ji more creampies more love wrapped in guilt wrapped in ecstasy wrapped in the unbreakable forbidden bond between a jiju and his saali.
The small everyday moments are what make this addiction so impossible to break. Every time she visits maa makes her favorite gatte ki sabzi. Riya sits beside me at dinner table her foot rubs my lund slowly under the table while maa talks about relatives and papa complains about prices. The danger of someone noticing makes my lund throb harder her touch more electric. When dinner ends she gets up adjusts her saree whispers raat ko terrace pe der se aana and walks away swaying her hips knowing I will follow.
Nights when she is here become our private world. Some nights she wants slow tender love — lying side by side spooning position me entering her from behind slow deep strokes while I kiss her neck whisper Riya I love you she whispers Jiju ji saali bhi tujhse pyar karti hai. Other nights she wants raw animal lust — pushing me on the bed riding me hard grinding her hips slapping her own gaand while moaning zor se chod Jiju ji apni saali ko maar do phaad do choot ko. She has learned to squeeze her inner muscles around my lund making me cum faster sometimes milking me dry before I can even thrust properly. I have learned to rub her clit in fast circles while fucking her making her squirt on the bedsheet soaking everything.
The risk keeps increasing. Once during her last visit when maa-papa were watching TV downstairs she pulled me into the bathroom locked the door lifted her nighty bent over the sink let me fuck her hard fast water running from the tap to cover the sounds of flesh slapping while maa called her name from the living room. I came inside her in under three minutes cum dripping down her thighs as she fixed her nighty went back to watch TV like nothing happened.
The emotional depth is what makes this impossible to quit. Some nights after sex she cries softly in my arms saying Jiju ji mujhe bohot guilty feel hota hai Priya di ke saath yeh kar rahi hoon par ruk nahi paati… tujhse pyar ho gaya hai real wala pyar. I hold her tight kiss her tears tell her I feel the same guilt every day but the love is stronger that I can’t live without her touch her moans her choot clenching around me. We talk about impossible future — her breaking her engagement moving in with me or me helping her start a boutique so she can be independent. She has started taking contraceptive pills secretly because pregnancy risk is too high but sometimes she forgets on purpose whispers agar ho gaya toh saali khush hogi tera baccha paalne mein. The thought scares me but also arouses me like nothing else making me take her harder deeper filling her with even more cum.
As January 13 2026 continues Priya is planning her parents visit next week. Riya has already told her she will stay longer because “college project”. Those days will be ours — full days full nights no hiding no hurry complete surrender. No office some days no college for her. The house will be quiet. She wants me to take her in every room every corner — kitchen courtyard terrace Priya’s room even the puja room. She wants me to fill her every time no condom no pulling out. She whispers Jiju ji agar is hafte mein pet ho gaya toh saali khush hogi tera baccha paalne mein.
I know this is the ultimate sin. I know one day it will destroy everything — my marriage family honor Priya’s trust Riya’s future. But when Riya calls me Jiju ji with that hungry voice, spreads her legs, begs for my lund — I can’t stop. This sin this love this addiction has become my oxygen.
Tonight Priya is sleeping early after long day. Riya is coming tomorrow for “weekend stay”. She has already sent a photo in black lace nighty with caption “Jiju ji ready rakhna… saali aa rahi hai apne lund ke liye”. I will wait for her. When she comes maa-papa will welcome her with open arms. And at night when the house sleeps she will come to my room wearing her favorite black lace nighty door slightly open eyes full of promise. I will go to her. I will kiss her deeply suck her nipples until she begs eat her choot until she squirts fuck her in every position fill her with my cum while she moans Jiju ji bhar de saali ke andar poora bhar de.
This is our life now — daylight family midnight lovers. Guilt is there sharp like knife but desire is bigger. Love is there twisted forbidden but real. And we can’t stop. We won’t stop.
The nights stretch on. The risks grow. The creampies continue. Every time I fill her I imagine the impossible — a child that is ours but never can be acknowledged. The thought terrifies me arouses me binds me tighter to her. Riya has become my obsession my weakness my reason to breathe my secret sin.
In the posh lanes of C-Scheme where life moves fast and secrets hide behind high gates we keep burning together — two souls trapped in a love that should never exist but feels more real than anything else in this world.
And so it continues — more visits more midnights more positions more whispered Jiju ji more creampies more love wrapped in guilt wrapped in ecstasy wrapped in the unbreakable forbidden bond between a jiju and his saali.