Chapter 1: The Heat of the House
I’m Kavita, a 32-year-old married woman living in a bustling Delhi household. My husband, Vikram, is 40—a decent man, but his long hours at the office leave me restless. Then there’s my devar, Rohan, Vikram’s younger brother. At 28, Rohan is everything Vikram isn’t—tall, muscular, with dark eyes that pierce through me and a smirk that promises trouble. He moved in with us a year ago, and since then, my life has turned into a daily dance of desire.
It started innocently enough. I’d catch Rohan staring at me while I cooked in the kitchen, my saree clinging to my curves in the summer heat. I’m no stranger to attention—my full breasts, rounded hips, and long black hair have always drawn eyes—but Rohan’s gaze was different. It wasn’t just admiration; it was hunger. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel it too.
One evening, Vikram was late again. The house was quiet, the air thick with humidity. I was in the living room, fanning myself, my blouse damp with sweat. Rohan walked in, shirtless, his chiseled chest glistening. “Bhabhi, it’s too hot today,” he said, his voice low and teasing. I nodded, avoiding his eyes. “Yeah, unbearable,” I mumbled. He stepped closer, too close. “Need help cooling off?” he whispered. My breath hitched. That was the spark.
Chapter 2: The First Sin
The next day, Vikram left for work early. I was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables, when Rohan slipped in behind me. His hands brushed my waist, sending a jolt through me. “Rohan, what are you doing?” I gasped, but my voice lacked conviction. He pressed himself against my back, his hardness evident through his pants. “You know what I want, Bhabhi,” he murmured into my ear, his lips grazing my neck.
I should’ve pushed him away, but my body betrayed me. My saree pallu slipped, exposing my cleavage, and Rohan’s hands were quick to explore. He cupped my breasts through the blouse, squeezing gently. “Fuck, you’re so soft,” he groaned. I moaned, my resolve crumbling. His fingers unhooked my blouse, letting it fall to the floor. My bra followed, and soon his mouth was on my nipples, sucking hard.
“Rohan… we can’t,” I whispered, even as my hands tangled in his hair. He lifted me onto the counter, spreading my legs. My saree bunched up around my thighs as he tugged my panties down. His fingers found my wetness, sliding inside me with ease. “You’re dripping for me,” he said, his voice thick with lust. I couldn’t deny it. He finger-fucked me right there, my moans echoing in the kitchen until I came, trembling against him.
Chapter 3: Daily Desks of Desire
That was the beginning. After that first time, Rohan didn’t stop—and I didn’t want him to. Every day became a ritual of stolen moments. Vikram would leave at 8 a.m., and by 8:15, Rohan’s hands would be on me. Some days, it was quick—him bending me over the dining table, my saree hiked up, his cock slamming into me from behind. Other days, it was slow and torturous, like the time he carried me to the bedroom.
One afternoon stands out. Vikram had just left, and I was in the shower, the water cascading over my naked body. The door creaked open, and Rohan stepped in, fully clothed at first. “Bhabhi, you’re killing me,” he growled, stripping off his shirt and pants. His cock sprang free, thick and ready. He joined me under the spray, pinning me against the tiles.
His lips crashed into mine, hungry and fierce. Water streamed down our bodies as his hands roamed—grabbing my ass, squeezing my breasts. He lifted one of my legs, hooking it over his hip, and thrust into me. The sensation was overwhelming—his hardness filling me, the water amplifying every slick movement. “You’re mine every day, Kavita,” he grunted, pounding me against the wall. I clung to him, my nails digging into his back, screaming his name as I came.
Chapter 4: The Bedroom Becomes Ours
Our favorite spot became the bedroom—Vikram’s bedroom, ironically. One evening, after a particularly long day, Rohan pulled me in there. “I need you slow tonight,” he said, his voice dripping with intent. He undressed me piece by piece—saree, blouse, petticoat—until I stood naked before him. His eyes devoured me, and I felt powerful, wanted.
He laid me on the bed, spreading my legs wide. His tongue was the first to explore, licking my inner thighs before diving into my core. I arched off the mattress, moaning as he sucked my clit, his fingers curling inside me. “Rohan… oh God,” I gasped. He didn’t stop until I came, my juices coating his lips.
Then he climbed over me, his cock teasing my entrance. “Tell me you want it,” he demanded. “I want you, Rohan,” I begged. He thrust in deep, stretching me, claiming me. His hips moved in a rhythm that drove me wild—slow at first, then faster, harder. The bed creaked beneath us, a symphony of our lust. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper, my breasts bouncing with each thrust. We came together, his hot release flooding me as I shuddered beneath him.
Chapter 5: No End in Sight
It’s been months now, and the fire hasn’t dimmed. Every day, Rohan finds me—sometimes in the morning, sometimes late at night when Vikram’s asleep. Yesterday, it was in the living room. I was dusting the shelves when he grabbed me from behind, yanking my saree up. “No time to waste, Bhabhi,” he growled, entering me without warning. I braced against the wall, his thrusts fast and brutal, my moans muffled against my arm.