I’m Neha, a 22-year-old college girl living in a cramped Mumbai flat with my family. My big brother, Vikrant—or Bhaiya, as I call him—is 26, a towering figure with broad shoulders, dark stubble, and eyes that always seem to see right through me. He’s the kind of man who commands a room, and lately, I’ve noticed him commanding something else—my thoughts, my body, my every waking moment. It’s wrong, I know, but the heat between us has been building for months, simmering beneath stolen glances and accidental touches. Last night, it boiled over, and he fucked me so hard my pussy swelled from the relentless pleasure.
It was a sticky monsoon evening, the rain pounding against the windows, drowning out the city’s chaos. Our parents were out, visiting relatives, leaving just me and Bhaiya in the house. I was sprawled on the couch in a thin kurti and leggings, the fabric clinging to my sweat-damp skin, outlining my full breasts and the curve of my hips. Bhaiya walked in from the kitchen, shirtless, his jeans low on his hips, revealing the V of muscle that made my mouth dry. He caught me staring and smirked, that devilish grin that always made my stomach flip. “What’s on your mind, Neha?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.
I tried to play it cool, shrugging. “Nothing, Bhaiya. Just hot.” But my eyes betrayed me, lingering on his chest, his abs, the bulge in his jeans. He stepped closer, towering over me, the air between us crackling. “You’re hot, huh?” he said, his tone shifting, dripping with something darker. Before I could respond, his hand was on my thigh, firm and possessive, sending a jolt straight to my core. “Bhaiya, what are you—” I started, but he cut me off, leaning down until his lips were inches from mine. “Don’t lie to me, Neha. I’ve seen how you look at me.”
My breath hitched. He was right—I couldn’t hide it anymore. The way his hands brushed me when we passed in the hall, the way his voice deepened when he said my name—it had been driving me wild. His fingers tightened on my thigh, sliding higher, dangerously close to where I was already aching. “Tell me you don’t want this,” he growled, his breath hot against my neck. I couldn’t. I didn’t. Instead, I whispered, “I do, Bhaiya.” That was all he needed.
In an instant, his lips crashed into mine, rough and hungry, tasting of forbidden lust. His tongue invaded my mouth, claiming me, while his hands yanked my kurti up and over my head. My bra was next, tossed aside, leaving my breasts bare to his ravenous gaze. “Fuck, Neha, you’re perfect,” he groaned, cupping them, his thumbs flicking my nipples until they hardened under his touch. I moaned, arching into him, my hands clawing at his back as he sucked one into his mouth, biting just hard enough to make me gasp.
He didn’t waste time. His hands were everywhere—ripping my leggings down, tearing my panties off until I was naked beneath him, my skin flushed and trembling. He stood back for a moment, drinking me in—my heaving chest, my glistening thighs, the way my pussy pulsed with need. “You’re so wet for me,” he said, unbuttoning his jeans, letting them drop. His cock sprang free, thick and impossibly hard, the sight making me whimper. It was bigger than I’d imagined—and I’d imagined it plenty.
He grabbed my legs, pulling me to the edge of the couch, spreading me wide. “Bhaiya, please…” I begged, my voice shaking with desperation. He smirked again, rubbing the tip of his cock against my slit, teasing me until I was squirming. “You want your big brother to fuck you, huh?” he taunted, his voice gravelly. “Yes, Bhaiya, fuck me,” I pleaded, and that was it—he thrust into me, hard and deep, filling me in one brutal stroke.
I screamed, the stretch burning, but oh God, it felt so good. He didn’t hold back, pounding into me with a rhythm that shook the couch, his hands gripping my hips so tight I knew they’d bruise. “You’re so fucking tight, Neha,” he grunted, his cock slamming into me, hitting spots I didn’t know existed. My pussy clenched around him, dripping wet, the sound of our bodies slapping together mixing with the rain outside. I clawed at his shoulders, my nails digging in, urging him deeper, harder.
He flipped me over, bending me over the armrest, my ass in the air. “Look at this,” he muttered, smacking my ass hard enough to sting, then spreading my cheeks. He entered me again from behind, this angle even more intense, his cock driving into me like a piston. “Bhaiya… oh fuck… don’t stop,” I moaned, my face pressed into the cushions, my body rocking with every thrust. He reached around, fingers finding my clit, rubbing it in tight circles until I was a whimpering mess. “Come for me, little sister,” he growled, and I did—hard, my pussy spasming around him, my juices soaking his cock as I screamed his name.
But he wasn’t done. He pulled out, flipped me onto my back again, and climbed over me, his sweat dripping onto my skin. “I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk,” he promised, slamming back into me. My legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in, my swollen pussy throbbing from the relentless assault. He fucked me like an animal—raw, primal, unstoppable—his grunts mixing with my cries. My breasts bounced wildly, my nipples raw from his earlier bites, and still, I begged for more. “Harder, Bhaiya, please!” I sobbed, lost in the haze of pleasure and pain.
His pace grew frantic, his cock swelling inside me, stretching me beyond my limits. “You’re mine, Neha,” he roared, and with one final, brutal thrust, he came, flooding me with his hot release. The sensation pushed me over the edge again, my pussy clenching so tight it hurt, my whole body shaking as I came with him. He collapsed onto me, our breaths ragged, our bodies slick with sweat and cum.
When he finally pulled out, I felt it—my pussy was swollen, tender from his size, his force, his endless hunger. He looked down at me, smirking at the mess he’d made. “You okay, little sis?” he asked, his voice softer now. I nodded, still panting, my legs trembling. “You fucked me so good, Bhaiya,” I whispered, and he laughed, pulling me into his arms.
The rain slowed to a drizzle outside, but inside, we lay tangled together, my swollen pussy a testament to what we’d done—what we couldn’t undo. And as I drifted off against his chest, I knew this wouldn’t be the last time.