My name is Tanay. I’m 19, pursuing architecture in Dehradun, still a complete virgin—never even kissed a girl. My mind has been hijacked by one woman for years: my taiji, Sunita.
Taiji is 40, my tauji’s (father’s elder brother) wife. She’s breathtaking—long dark hair she braids loosely, golden fair skin, big doe eyes lined with surma, and a body that haunts my dreams. 38DD boobs that sway heavily under her sarees, a soft inviting belly, wide child-bearing hips, and an ass so plump and jiggly it ripples when she walks. She’s always been overly affectionate—pulling me into crushing hugs where her massive tits smother me, sitting thigh-to-thigh during family dinners with her hand resting high on my leg, whispering “mera pyara bhatija” while brushing my cheek. I’ve been obsessed since 16—stealing her scented hankies, jerking off to her Facebook pics in sarees, imagining those full lips on my cock, her moaning as I pound her from behind.
This monsoon, the family planned a Nainital escape—boating on the lake, mall road shopping, misty hills. Tauji, taiji, my parents, and me. We booked rooms at a beautiful heritage hotel overlooking the lake—Victorian style, wooden interiors, fireplaces. But heavy rains caused cancellations and overbooking. Only two rooms available. Parents took one. Tauji, busy with work calls, waved it off: “Sunita, tu aur Tanay adjust kar lo. Taiji-bhatija hain, koi sharam thodi hai.”
Taiji’s eyes sparkled as she looked at me. “Haan ji, mera bhatija toh bilkul mera bachha hai. Raat bhar maza aayega saath mein.” My cock hardened instantly at her double meaning.
The room was pure seduction—large bed with carved headboard, quilted blankets, fireplace glowing, French windows opening to lake view with fog rolling in, attached bathroom with vintage tub. One bed. No sofa.
First night, after boat ride and dinner, rain pattered on the roof. Taiji changed first. She emerged in a sheer white cotton nightie—short, almost transparent, low neck plunging between her massive cleavage, nipples dark and hard against fabric. No bra. Her thick thighs and ass curve visible. I nearly groaned aloud.
I changed quickly, came out in shorts and t-shirt, erection tenting obviously. We lay on opposite sides, fireplace crackling, rain drumming, lake waves lapping outside.
Tension thick. Her rose perfume filled the air.
“Beta,” she whispered after a long silence, “neend aa rahi hai?”
“Nahi taiji… barsaat ki awaaz… aur thand.”
She giggled softly. “Aa ja na paas. Taiji garam kar degi apne raja ko.”
I moved closer, pulse racing. She turned, pulling me into spoon—her back to me, massive ass pressing my crotch. My hard cock nestled between her cheeks through thin fabric. She ground back slowly.
“Taiji…” I whispered, trembling.
“Arey… yeh kya hai itna sakht aur bada?” Her hand reached back, gripping my bulge. “Mera chhota bhatija… itna mota lund? Taiji ko kabse shak tha tu mujhe gandi nazron se dekhta hai functions mein.”
I thrust instinctively. “Taiji please… yeh galat hai…”
“Galat kya, beta? Lake ke kinare hai hum, koi nahi sun raha.” She squeezed hard. “Bata na sach… kitni baar taiji ke boobs dekh ke muth maara hai? Meri saree mein gaand hilte dekh ke lund hilata tha na? Taiji ki bra-pen soongh ke?”
Guilt and desire exploded. “Haan taiji… har roz… aapki pics dekh ke… aapke naam se muth… sorry…”
She turned, facing me, eyes burning. “Sorry kyun? Aaj taiji tujhe asli mazaa degi. Apni geeli chut mein tera virgin lund legi.”
She pushed me flat, straddled high. Nightie hiked—no panties, bare pussy dripping on my chest. She ripped my shorts down. My cock—9 inches, thick as her wrist—slapped up.
“Arre waah… mera bhatija ka lund… tauji se double mota aur lamba. Yeh toh taiji ki chut aur gaand dono phaad dega.”
She stroked slow, thumb rubbing head. “Kitna ras nikal raha hai… taiji taste kare apne bhatije ka lund?”
She slid down, engulfed me—scorching wet mouth, deep suction, throat taking most. Sloppy, gagging, saliva pouring.
“Mmm… bhatije ka lund… kitna garam tasty… pura throat bhar diya… taiji ka muh chod raha hai tu!”
I bucked. “Taiji… nikalne wala…”
She bobbed faster. “Muh mein daal de… taiji pi legi tera sara thick maal… har boond… haan beta aa ja!”
I erupted—thick jets down her throat. She swallowed hungrily, moaning, then cleaned every drop.
“Kitna powerful hai mera raja…”
She stripped nightie—naked goddess, huge tits with brown nipples, soft belly, shaved pussy glistening. “Ab choos taiji ke bade bade boobs… zor zor se kaat… nipples noch le.”
I devoured—sucking hard, biting, hands sinking into soft flesh.
“Ahh… haan Tanay… zor se choos… taiji ke boobs daba dal… kitne saal se taras rahi thi aise!”
Down to her pussy—sweet musky. I licked greedily—long strokes, sucking clit, fingers inside.
“Haan beta… chat taiji ki chut… zor se… jeebh andar daal ke chod… ahh mera raja master hai!”
She came—gushing, thighs clamping, screaming into quilt.
Then mounted. “Ab asli… taiji tere lund ko apni chut mein legi.”
Sank slow—tight velvet fire. “Oh fuck… kitna mota… taiji ki chut phaad di… ahh bhatija… ab pel apni taiji ko!”
I grabbed hips, pounded up. She rode savage—slamming, grinding, tits slapping my face.
“Haan… zor se… thok taiji ko… bana de apni randi… bata kitne din se taiji ki chut marne ka sapna?”
“Roz taiji… aapki gaand dekh ke khada ho jata… ab sach mein!”
“Chod… deep thok… bachchedani mein gus… haan!”
Doggy—ass up, me railing, slapping red. “Taiji ki moti gaand… juicy… maar raha hun!”
“Haan… thappad zor se… gaand laal kar… phad de chut!”
“Andar daalun?”
“Haan… creampie de taiji ko… bhar de apne maal se… andar tak!”
Filled her deep. She milked me, cumming hard.
All nights endless.
Round two: Tub, steamy water, her bent over edge, me pounding from behind. “Paani mein pel raha hai… taiji ki gaand mein daal aaj!”
Anal slow—tight ring stretching. “Phad di tune taiji ki gaand… roz maar… andar bhar gaand mein!”
Mornings: Blowjobs under quilt. “Subah subah muh bhar de!”
Afternoons: Family boating, we sneaked to room. Quick missionary. “Jaldi pel… log wait kar rahe… andar daal!”
Nights: Oiled slippery titfuck—“Taiji ke boobs mein chod lund!” Then marathon every hole.
Between: She confessed tauji ignores her in bed. “Tu mujhe aurat bana raha hai… tera lund nasha.”
I confessed obsession.
One rainy dawn, slow fuck watching lake, she whispered, “Yeh taiji bhatija forbidden… humara raaz rahega. Jab mauka mile, phir milenge.”
Back home, secret continues.
Tauji busy, I visit “tuition.” Fuckathons.
She texts: “Taiji ki chut geeli… kab aa raha pelne?”
I reply: “Jaldi taiji. Chut gaand dono bhar dunga.”
Our promise—stolen moments forever.
Open ending with that promise.
Taiji is 40, my tauji’s (father’s elder brother) wife. She’s breathtaking—long dark hair she braids loosely, golden fair skin, big doe eyes lined with surma, and a body that haunts my dreams. 38DD boobs that sway heavily under her sarees, a soft inviting belly, wide child-bearing hips, and an ass so plump and jiggly it ripples when she walks. She’s always been overly affectionate—pulling me into crushing hugs where her massive tits smother me, sitting thigh-to-thigh during family dinners with her hand resting high on my leg, whispering “mera pyara bhatija” while brushing my cheek. I’ve been obsessed since 16—stealing her scented hankies, jerking off to her Facebook pics in sarees, imagining those full lips on my cock, her moaning as I pound her from behind.
This monsoon, the family planned a Nainital escape—boating on the lake, mall road shopping, misty hills. Tauji, taiji, my parents, and me. We booked rooms at a beautiful heritage hotel overlooking the lake—Victorian style, wooden interiors, fireplaces. But heavy rains caused cancellations and overbooking. Only two rooms available. Parents took one. Tauji, busy with work calls, waved it off: “Sunita, tu aur Tanay adjust kar lo. Taiji-bhatija hain, koi sharam thodi hai.”
Taiji’s eyes sparkled as she looked at me. “Haan ji, mera bhatija toh bilkul mera bachha hai. Raat bhar maza aayega saath mein.” My cock hardened instantly at her double meaning.
The room was pure seduction—large bed with carved headboard, quilted blankets, fireplace glowing, French windows opening to lake view with fog rolling in, attached bathroom with vintage tub. One bed. No sofa.
First night, after boat ride and dinner, rain pattered on the roof. Taiji changed first. She emerged in a sheer white cotton nightie—short, almost transparent, low neck plunging between her massive cleavage, nipples dark and hard against fabric. No bra. Her thick thighs and ass curve visible. I nearly groaned aloud.
I changed quickly, came out in shorts and t-shirt, erection tenting obviously. We lay on opposite sides, fireplace crackling, rain drumming, lake waves lapping outside.
Tension thick. Her rose perfume filled the air.
“Beta,” she whispered after a long silence, “neend aa rahi hai?”
“Nahi taiji… barsaat ki awaaz… aur thand.”
She giggled softly. “Aa ja na paas. Taiji garam kar degi apne raja ko.”
I moved closer, pulse racing. She turned, pulling me into spoon—her back to me, massive ass pressing my crotch. My hard cock nestled between her cheeks through thin fabric. She ground back slowly.
“Taiji…” I whispered, trembling.
“Arey… yeh kya hai itna sakht aur bada?” Her hand reached back, gripping my bulge. “Mera chhota bhatija… itna mota lund? Taiji ko kabse shak tha tu mujhe gandi nazron se dekhta hai functions mein.”
I thrust instinctively. “Taiji please… yeh galat hai…”
“Galat kya, beta? Lake ke kinare hai hum, koi nahi sun raha.” She squeezed hard. “Bata na sach… kitni baar taiji ke boobs dekh ke muth maara hai? Meri saree mein gaand hilte dekh ke lund hilata tha na? Taiji ki bra-pen soongh ke?”
Guilt and desire exploded. “Haan taiji… har roz… aapki pics dekh ke… aapke naam se muth… sorry…”
She turned, facing me, eyes burning. “Sorry kyun? Aaj taiji tujhe asli mazaa degi. Apni geeli chut mein tera virgin lund legi.”
She pushed me flat, straddled high. Nightie hiked—no panties, bare pussy dripping on my chest. She ripped my shorts down. My cock—9 inches, thick as her wrist—slapped up.
“Arre waah… mera bhatija ka lund… tauji se double mota aur lamba. Yeh toh taiji ki chut aur gaand dono phaad dega.”
She stroked slow, thumb rubbing head. “Kitna ras nikal raha hai… taiji taste kare apne bhatije ka lund?”
She slid down, engulfed me—scorching wet mouth, deep suction, throat taking most. Sloppy, gagging, saliva pouring.
“Mmm… bhatije ka lund… kitna garam tasty… pura throat bhar diya… taiji ka muh chod raha hai tu!”
I bucked. “Taiji… nikalne wala…”
She bobbed faster. “Muh mein daal de… taiji pi legi tera sara thick maal… har boond… haan beta aa ja!”
I erupted—thick jets down her throat. She swallowed hungrily, moaning, then cleaned every drop.
“Kitna powerful hai mera raja…”
She stripped nightie—naked goddess, huge tits with brown nipples, soft belly, shaved pussy glistening. “Ab choos taiji ke bade bade boobs… zor zor se kaat… nipples noch le.”
I devoured—sucking hard, biting, hands sinking into soft flesh.
“Ahh… haan Tanay… zor se choos… taiji ke boobs daba dal… kitne saal se taras rahi thi aise!”
Down to her pussy—sweet musky. I licked greedily—long strokes, sucking clit, fingers inside.
“Haan beta… chat taiji ki chut… zor se… jeebh andar daal ke chod… ahh mera raja master hai!”
She came—gushing, thighs clamping, screaming into quilt.
Then mounted. “Ab asli… taiji tere lund ko apni chut mein legi.”
Sank slow—tight velvet fire. “Oh fuck… kitna mota… taiji ki chut phaad di… ahh bhatija… ab pel apni taiji ko!”
I grabbed hips, pounded up. She rode savage—slamming, grinding, tits slapping my face.
“Haan… zor se… thok taiji ko… bana de apni randi… bata kitne din se taiji ki chut marne ka sapna?”
“Roz taiji… aapki gaand dekh ke khada ho jata… ab sach mein!”
“Chod… deep thok… bachchedani mein gus… haan!”
Doggy—ass up, me railing, slapping red. “Taiji ki moti gaand… juicy… maar raha hun!”
“Haan… thappad zor se… gaand laal kar… phad de chut!”
“Andar daalun?”
“Haan… creampie de taiji ko… bhar de apne maal se… andar tak!”
Filled her deep. She milked me, cumming hard.
All nights endless.
Round two: Tub, steamy water, her bent over edge, me pounding from behind. “Paani mein pel raha hai… taiji ki gaand mein daal aaj!”
Anal slow—tight ring stretching. “Phad di tune taiji ki gaand… roz maar… andar bhar gaand mein!”
Mornings: Blowjobs under quilt. “Subah subah muh bhar de!”
Afternoons: Family boating, we sneaked to room. Quick missionary. “Jaldi pel… log wait kar rahe… andar daal!”
Nights: Oiled slippery titfuck—“Taiji ke boobs mein chod lund!” Then marathon every hole.
Between: She confessed tauji ignores her in bed. “Tu mujhe aurat bana raha hai… tera lund nasha.”
I confessed obsession.
One rainy dawn, slow fuck watching lake, she whispered, “Yeh taiji bhatija forbidden… humara raaz rahega. Jab mauka mile, phir milenge.”
Back home, secret continues.
Tauji busy, I visit “tuition.” Fuckathons.
She texts: “Taiji ki chut geeli… kab aa raha pelne?”
I reply: “Jaldi taiji. Chut gaand dono bhar dunga.”
Our promise—stolen moments forever.
Open ending with that promise.