Brother in Law and Indian Bhabhi Sex Story – My name’s Vikram, a 24-year-old mechanic from Jaipur, living with my family in a sprawling house. I’m tall, muscular from wrenching engines, with rough hands and a cock that’s gotten me plenty of attention. My sister-in-law, Neha—my late brother Ajay’s wife—is 28, a young widow who’s been with us since he died in a car accident two years ago. Neha’s a fucking knockout—long black hair, almond eyes, creamy skin, big round breasts that strain her kurtas, a slim waist, and an ass so tight it begs to be grabbed. She’s been lonely, grieving, but I’d catch her staring at me—her eyes lingering on my chest, my crotch, sparking a forbidden heat in me. I wanted her, bad, and one stormy night, I fucked her until I made her pregnant.
It happened on April 12, 2025, a muggy evening after weeks of tension. My parents were visiting relatives in Delhi, leaving Neha and me alone. Rain hammered the roof, thunder rumbling as I fixed a bike in the garage. Neha came out, wearing a thin pink saree that clung to her curves—her breasts outlined, nipples poking through, her ass swaying as she walked. “Vikram, dinner’s ready,” she said, her voice soft, but her eyes locked on my sweaty arms. I wiped my hands, smirking, “Looking hot, Bhabhi.” She blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, but didn’t look away.
We ate in the kitchen—dal, roti, her cooking as good as her body looked. She sat close, her knee brushing mine under the table. “It’s been lonely since Ajay,” she murmured, her fingers trembling on her glass. “You don’t have to be alone, Bhabhi,” I said, bold, resting my hand on hers. Her breath hitched, eyes widening, but she didn’t pull away. “Vikram, what are you saying?” she whispered, voice shaky. I leaned in, my lips grazing her ear, “I want to fuck you, Neha. I’ve wanted your pussy since I saw you.” She gasped, but her hand squeezed mine—lust breaking through her widow’s guilt.
The rain roared outside as I pulled her to the living room couch. I kissed her—hard, messy, my tongue claiming her mouth. She moaned, “Ohh, Vikram,” kissing me back, her soft lips trembling. My hands ripped her saree pallu down, exposing her blouse—tight, her big breasts begging to burst free. “Fuck, Bhabhi, your breasts are perfect,” I growled, tearing the blouse open. Her black bra barely held her—big, round tits spilling out as I yanked it off. Her nipples were dark, stiff, aching. I sucked one hard, biting it, while my hand squeezed the other. “Ahh, Vikram, suck my breasts!” she cried, arching into me, her widow’s body awakening.
I stripped her saree off, petticoat and panties hitting the floor—her naked body glowed in the dim light, pussy shaved, glistening wet, ass tight and round. She stared as I shed my shirt and jeans, my cock springing free—thick, 8 inches, rock-hard. “Shit, Vikram, your cock’s huge,” she breathed, reaching for it. She stroked me, her widow’s hands soft but eager, making me groan, “Bhabhi, I’m gonna fuck you till you’re pregnant.” I pushed her onto the couch, spreading her legs wide—her pussy dripping, begging for me.
I rubbed my cock against her pussy lips, teasing her clit until she whimpered, “Please, Vikram, fuck me!” I thrust in—deep, brutal, filling her tight pussy with one stroke. She screamed, “Ahh, fuck, it’s so big!” Her walls clenched me, hot and slick, as I started fucking her—slow, then fast, the couch creaking under us. Her big breasts bounced wildly, her ass jiggling with every thrust. “Take it, Bhabhi, you’re my slut now,” I grunted, pounding her deeper. “Ohh, Vikram, fuck my pussy, make me yours!” she moaned, nails digging into my shoulders.
I flipped her over, doggy-style—her ass up, perfect, a widow’s curves begging for more. “Such a sexy ass,” I said, spanking her hard—red marks blooming on her cheeks. “Fuck my ass too, devarji,” she pleaded, voice raw. I spat on her asshole, easing my cock in—tight, resisting, then swallowing me. “Fuck, Bhabhi, your ass is heaven!” I groaned, fucking her raw, her screams echoing— “Ahh, Vikram, rip my ass apart!” I pounded her, hands gripping her big breasts, pinching her nipples as she shook beneath me.
The storm raged outside, but inside, we were louder—wet slaps, her moans, my grunts. I pulled her to the floor, laying her flat, legs over my shoulders—missionary, deep, porn-style. Her breasts jiggled as I fucked her pussy, slow then brutal. “I’m gonna make you pregnant, Bhabhi,” I growled, slamming into her. “Yes, Vikram, fill me, give me your baby!” she cried, her pussy pulsing. I switched holes—pussy to ass, ass to pussy—fucking her like a machine, her body mine to claim.
Hours blurred—rain-soaked windows rattling as I fucked her everywhere. In the kitchen, bent over the counter, her saree on the floor, my cock in her pussy— “Harder, devarji!” she screamed. In the bathroom, under the shower, water streaming over her big breasts as I fucked her ass, her moans bouncing off tiles. On my bed, her riding me cowgirl-style, pussy swallowing my cock, breasts bouncing in my face— “Fuck me, Vikram, don’t stop!” she gasped. Every thrust was hardcore, every scream pure lust, her widow’s body reborn under me.
She came first—legs shaking, pussy clenching, juices squirting as she screamed, “Ohh, Vikram, I’m cumming!” I fucked her through it, relentless, my balls tightening. “Where do you want my cum, Bhabhi?” I rasped. “In my pussy—make me pregnant!” she begged. I thrust deep, erupting—hot, thick cum flooding her pussy, spilling out as I kept pumping. She moaned, “Yes, Vikram, fill me!” I pulled out, cum dripping from her pussy, coating her thighs, marking her as mine.
We collapsed, panting, her head on my chest, my cum leaking from her. “Vikram, that was… incredible,” she whispered, kissing me. “Bhabhi, I love you. I’ll fuck you every day,” I promised, my cock still hard. She smiled, “I love you too, devarji. Make me yours forever.” The next morning, we fucked again—slow, tender, then hard, her pussy taking my cum again, sealing our bond.
Weeks later, she missed her period. A test confirmed it—pregnant. My parents assumed it was a miracle, some clinic’s work, but Neha and I knew. That night in the storm, I’d fucked my young widowed Bhabhi until I planted my seed. Now, we sneak away—garage quickies, late-night fucks in her room—her pregnant belly growing, her breasts bigger, her pussy still mine. “You’re my man now,” she whispers after every fuck. “And you’re my woman, Bhabhi,” I reply, knowing this hot, taboo love is ours forever.