Brother Sister Sex Story Indian Erotic Story – My name’s Rahul, a 23-year-old engineering student from Kanpur, living with my parents and my younger sister, Anjali, who just turned 19. I’m tall, wiry, with a scruffy beard and a cock that’s been restless lately. Anjali’s a bombshell—petite, with long black hair, fair skin, perky breasts that tease her kurtis, a tight ass that sways in her jeans, and big doe eyes that hide a naughty spark. We’ve always been close—teasing, wrestling, sharing late-night secrets—but I never crossed the line, even when my dick hardened watching her bend over. That changed on April 17, 2025, my birthday, when she gifted me her virgin pussy and turned my world into a hardcore fuck-fest.
The day started normal—Mom made aloo parathas, Dad gifted me a watch, and Anjali hugged me tight, her breasts pressing my chest, whispering, “Your real gift’s tonight, bhaiya.” Her voice was soft, mischievous, and my cock twitched—something was up. By evening, our parents left for a wedding in the next town, staying overnight. “Happy birthday again, bhaiya,” Anjali grinned, locking the door, her kurti tight, nipples poking through, her ass hugged by leggings. “What’s the gift?” I asked, smirking, lounging on the couch in a t-shirt and shorts.
She dimmed the lights, Bollywood music playing low, and sat beside me—too close, her thigh on mine. “Me,” she said, eyes locked on mine, hand resting on my knee. My heart raced—my little sister, offering herself? “Anjali, you serious?” I stammered, cock stiffening. She nodded, leaning in, “I’ve seen how you look at me, bhaiya. I want you to fuck my kunwari choot for your birthday.” Before I could process, she kissed me—soft, then wild, her tongue darting into my mouth, tasting of mango lip balm. I groaned, “Fuck, Anjali,” kissing her back, my hands grabbing her waist.
She pulled back, standing, and peeled off her kurti—slow, teasing, Indian-style seduction. No bra—her perky breasts bounced free, small but perfect, nipples pink and hard. “Shit, Anjali, your breasts are amazing,” I growled, yanking my t-shirt off, lunging for her. I sucked one nipple, hard, biting it, while my hand squeezed the other—soft, untouched. “Ahh, bhaiya, suck my boobs!” she moaned, arching, her virgin body trembling. I tugged her leggings down—no panties, just her kunwari choot, shaved, pink, glistening wet.
I stripped—shorts off, my cock springing out, thick, 7 inches, throbbing for her. “Fuck, Rahul bhaiya, your cock’s so big!” she gasped, kneeling, Indian sisterly awe in her eyes. She licked it—hesitant, then bold—sucking me, her virgin lips stretching. “Ohh, Anjali, you’re a natural,” I groaned, thrusting into her mouth, her gag muffled by my dick. She pulled off, panting, “Fuck me now, bhaiya, take my virginity.”
I pushed her onto the couch—legs spread, her virgin pussy glistening, a birthday gift begging to be unwrapped. “You sure, Anjali?” I asked, rubbing my cock against her pussy lips, teasing her clit. “Yes, bhaiya, fuck my choot, make it yours!” she begged, voice raw. I thrust in—slow, then hard, breaking her hymen, her tight pussy gripping me. She screamed, “Ahh, fuck, it hurts!”—blood trickling, but her eyes blazed with lust. “Keep going, bhaiya, fuck me!” I did—slow, then fast, the couch creaking, her perky breasts bouncing. “Take it, Anjali, my sexy bahan!” I grunted, pounding her virgin pussy, her moans Indian-loud— “Ohh, Rahul, fuck me deeper!”
I flipped her—doggy-style, her tight ass up, a virgin’s prize. “Look at this ass,” I growled, spanking it—red marks on her fair cheeks. “Fuck my ass too, bhaiya!” she pleaded, bold for a first-timer. I spat on her asshole—tight, puckered—easing my cock in, slow then brutal. “Fuck, Anjali, your ass is tight!” I groaned, fucking her raw, her screams echoing— “Ahh, bhaiya, rip my ass apart!” I pounded her, hands grabbing her breasts, pinching her nipples as she shook beneath me.
The night turned wild—brother-sister sex, Indian taboo unleashed. I pulled her to the floor—missionary, legs over my shoulders, her virgin pussy pounded deep. “You’re my slut now, Anjali,” I panted, her breasts jiggling, her ass quivering. “Yes, bhaiya, fuck your bahan’s choot!” she screamed, nails clawing my back. I switched—pussy to ass, ass to pussy—fucking her like a beast, her virgin holes mine. Hours blurred—kitchen table, her bent over, pussy fucked; bathroom, shower sex, ass pounded; my bed, her riding me, breasts bouncing— “Fuck me, Rahul bhaiya, don’t stop!” she cried.
She came—shaking, pussy clenching, juices squirting— “Ohh, bhaiya, I’m cumming!”—her virgin orgasm wild. I fucked her through it, relentless, then growled, “Where’s my cum, Anjali?” “Everywhere—my choot, my ass, my boobs!” she gasped. I erupted—cum flooding her pussy, then her ass cheeks, finally spraying her perky breasts, rubbing it in. We collapsed, sweaty, her virgin body marked, my birthday gift claimed.
Next morning, she woke me—naked, straddling me, pussy on my cock again. “Happy birthday, bhaiya,” she whispered, fucking me slow. Parents away, we fucked all day—her kunwari choot now my playground. “You’re mine, Anjali,” I say after every fuck. “Always, bhaiya,” she replies, our Indian secret sealed.