I live in a crowded city neighborhood, surrounded by shops and tightly packed houses. My name’s Kajal, 21, a college student with fair skin, medium build, and long, thick hair that people often compliment. My family includes my parents and my younger brother Rahul, 19, a tall, lean guy with a mischievous grin that hides a naughty streak.
When I moved to the upstairs room for my college studies, I noticed the open window of the house across from mine. Worried someone might peek in, I quickly hung a light blue curtain to block the view. But soon, I found out that the room belonged to Manoj, a 22-year-old guy from my college. He’s tall, fair, with a shy charm and eyes that always seemed to sparkle with curiosity. I figured he’d just rented the place.
I studied late into the night, and so did Manoj. His desk lamp glowed softly, and I’d sometimes sneak a glance at him through my curtain, watching him buried in his books. One night, our eyes locked. My heart raced, and I yanked the curtain shut, but not before catching his faint smile. From then on, we started stealing glances at each other, playing a secret game of peek-a-boo through our windows.
One evening, Manoj stood at his window, waving at me like we were old pals. My stomach fluttered, but I waved back, blushing. Soon, it became a routine—smirking, waving, and stealing looks. One night, a piece of paper wrapped around a stone landed in my room. My pulse spiked as I opened it. It was from Manoj, just a simple note: “Hey sweetie, good luck with exams!”
I tore it up and tossed it out, but I couldn’t stop grinning. A few days later, I mustered the courage to throw a note back with a casual “Best of luck!” And just like that, we started exchanging notes. At first, it was innocent—wishing each other well for tests—but things got bolder. One night, he wrote, “Sweetie, blow me a flying kiss!” Giggling, I did it, and he clapped like a kid.
Our notes turned naughty fast. One read, “Show me your boobs, just once!” My cheeks burned, but my body tingled with excitement. I peeked out, lifted my T-shirt, and flashed him my 34C breasts, my nipples already hard. His eyes widened, and I quickly hid behind the curtain. The next day, I teased back, “Your turn—what you got?” Without hesitation, he dropped his pajamas, showing off his hard, thick cock—maybe 7 inches, with a shiny red tip. My pussy throbbed, and I shut the curtain, heart pounding.
It became our dirty little game. I’d flash my tits, he’d show his dick, and we’d laugh it off through notes. But I had no idea someone else was watching. Rahul, my sneaky brother, had been picking up my torn notes from the street, piecing them together and reading every word. He knew everything about me and Manoj.
One night, I tossed a note to Manoj, but it hit his window and fell to the street. Panicked, I ran downstairs to find it, but it was gone. When I got back to my room, Rahul was there, holding the note with a wicked smirk. “Looking for this, sis?” he said.
My face flushed. “Rahul, please, give it back. Don’t tell anyone!” I begged.
He leaned back on my bed, grinning. “I won’t snitch, but you gotta do what I say.”
My stomach dropped. “What?”
“Lift your T-shirt,” he said, his voice low and teasing.
I froze. “Rahul, I’m your sister!”
“So what? You’re showing Manoj, aren’t you? What if Dad finds out?” he taunted.
I had no choice. Closing my eyes, I lifted my T-shirt, letting my full breasts spill out. My nipples stiffened in the cool air. Rahul’s eyes gleamed as he reached out, grabbing one breast and squeezing. “Fuck, sis, these are so soft,” he groaned.
“Rahul, stop…” I whispered, but my body betrayed me, a warm ache spreading between my legs. My pussy was already wet.
“Now pull up your skirt,” he demanded, his voice thicker.
“I’ll be naked!” I protested, but my hands moved on their own, hiking up my skirt. I hadn’t worn panties, planning to tease Manoj later. My pink, slightly hairy pussy was now bare for Rahul. His breath hitched.
“No panties, huh? Were you flashing Manoj again?” he asked, smirking.
I blushed. “Was about to…”
“Then take this!” he growled, pushing me onto the bed and climbing on top. His hips ground against me, his hard bulge rubbing my thighs. My pussy clenched, dripping now.
“Rahul, what the fuck? You gonna fuck me?” I gasped, half-scared, half-turned on.
“I go first, sis. Then we’ll call Manoj. You’re my sister—my turn!” he said, yanking down his pants. His cock sprang free—6 inches, thick, with a red, throbbing tip.
“Shit, Rahul!” I stared, unable to look away.
“Touch it,” he urged.
I hesitated, then wrapped my fingers around his hot, hard dick. It pulsed in my hand, and he moaned, “Ohhh, sis, fuck, that feels good.” I stroked it slowly, feeling the veins under my fingers, his tip slick with precum.
“Your turn,” he said, eyes locked on my pussy.
I pulled my skirt higher, spreading my legs slightly. My pussy lips glistened, and Rahul’s fingers brushed them, making me shiver. “Ohhh… Rahul, don’t…” I moaned, but I didn’t stop him. He slid a finger inside my wet slit, and I gasped, “Ahhh!” My hips bucked as he fingered me, his thumb circling my clit.
“Fuck, sis, you’re so wet,” he groaned, then leaned down, his tongue lapping at my clit. “Mmm… tastes so good.” My body shook, moans spilling out, “Ohhh… fuck… Rahul…!” I grabbed his hair, grinding my pussy against his mouth.
“Ready for this?” he growled, positioning his cock at my entrance. He pushed in slowly, his thick shaft stretching my tight pussy. “Ahhh… fuck…” I moaned, feeling every inch slide in. The wet slap of his balls against me filled the room—slap, slap, slap.
“Rahul… slow… ohhh… it’s so good…” I panted, my hips moving with his. His cock filled me perfectly, hitting deep with every thrust. “Fuck me harder… ahhh!” I begged, my voice hoarse.
“God, your pussy’s so tight, sis… fuck!” he groaned, pounding faster. The bed creaked, and our bodies slapped together—thap, thap, thap. My tits bounced, and he grabbed them, pinching my nipples. “Ohhh… yesss…!” I screamed, my pussy clenching around his cock.
“Fuck, sis, I’m gonna cum!” he grunted, thrusting harder. My pussy was on fire, my orgasm building. “Ahhh… Rahul… I’m cumming…!” I cried, my body shaking as my pussy gushed, soaking his cock. He pulled out just in time, shooting hot cum across my stomach and tits, splattering my T-shirt.
“Fuck, sis, you’re amazing,” he panted, collapsing beside me.
I lay there, breathless, my body still tingling. “Rahul… that was wrong… but so fucking good,” I admitted, smiling.
He laughed. “Gonna fuck you every day now, sis. You’re too hot.”
I nudged him. “Call Manoj too. Let’s have fun together.”
We lay there, catching our breath, laughing about our dirty secret. Then he started to get up. “Alright, I’m out. It’s late.”
I grabbed his arm. “Wait, one more round?”
His eyes lit up, and he climbed back on the bed. His cock was already hard again, pressing against my wet pussy. The room filled with our moans and the sound of thap, thap, thap as we fucked again, lost in the heat of it all.
What did you think of this story? Should Manoj join the fun? Drop your thoughts in the comments!