My name is Kanchan. I’m 23, from Modinagar but living in Faridabad. I come from a modest family, but my husband’s loaded, swimming in millions. Problem is, he’s not all there mentally—slow, almost childlike. We’ve been married three years, and I still don’t have a kid. I spent two years chasing doctors, trying every damn treatment, but nothing worked. My in-laws, those judgmental pricks, blamed me. Said I was defective, not their precious son. But I knew the real issue. My husband’s cock is useless. Every time I’m horny, begging for it, his dick just flops. Our wedding night was a disaster—I knew then he was impotent. My parents, dazzled by his wealth, sold me into this mess. No woman should suffer like this.
I was drowning in despair. Friends from my wedding days had toddlers running around, while I had nothing but shame. It wasn’t just about a baby—I needed to save my dignity. My in-laws’ taunts cut deep, claiming their son was fine, that I was the barren one. They even started plotting a second marriage for him, whispering about some rich girl from another family. One evening, my mother-in-law cornered me, her voice cold as ice. “Kanchan, you’ve got one year to give us a grandchild, or we’re marrying him to Manohar Babu’s daughter.” I stood there, speechless, my heart pounding. I knew my husband was the problem, but they wouldn’t listen. That night, alone in my room, I swore I’d become a mother, no matter what it took.
I spent weeks scheming. Without sex, there’d be no baby, and I had to be smart—nobody could suspect a thing. I started playing the perfect daughter-in-law, serving my in-laws hand and foot, bowing to their every whim. With my husband, I faked passion. Every night, I’d strip naked, climb on top of him, and grind against his limp cock, moaning like he was fucking me senseless. “Oh, you’re so good, you fucked me so hard!” I’d gasp, even though his dick barely touched my pussy. It was all an act to keep them off my back, to buy time. But deep down, I was starving for real sex, for a man who could make me scream.
Then, a golden opportunity. My husband’s medicine business required a trip to Agra, and my in-laws decided to go with him. They’d be gone four days. I saw my chance. “I’ll be alone,” I told my mother-in-law, playing the helpless wife. “Can I call my younger brother Sunil to stay with me?” They didn’t argue—hell, they even called Sunil themselves to arrange it. The next morning, they left for Agra, and by noon, Sunil arrived.
Sunil’s 21, two years younger than me, with a chiseled body and a face that makes girls weak. He’s got this raw energy, like he could fuck for hours. That afternoon, we sat in the living room, and I spilled everything—my husband’s impotence, the in-laws’ threats, the looming second marriage. Tears streamed down my face as I leaned on his shoulder, sobbing. “Sunil, they’ll throw me out if I don’t have a kid,” I cried. He hugged me tight, his voice steady. “Sis, I’ve got your back. Whatever you need, I’m here.” His words lit a spark in me. We talked all day, sharing old memories, laughing, crying. By evening, my plan was clear.
After dinner, I set up a bed for Sunil in the guest room. He was sprawled out, watching TV. Around 10 p.m., I made my move. I’d prepped like a seductress—lips painted cherry red, hair loose, body drenched in perfume. I wore a sheer red gown, no bra, no panties, my curves begging to be touched. I stepped into his room, locked the door, and let the gown slip to the floor. My silky skin glowed in the dim light, my full tits bouncing, my shaved pussy glistening. Sunil’s jaw dropped, his eyes wide. “Sis… what the fuck… what are you doing?” he stammered.
I grabbed his hand, my voice trembling but firm. “Sunil, you promised to help me. If you care about your sister, make me a mother. My husband can’t fuck me, can’t give me a child. I’ve decided I want your baby. If you want me to stay sane, to keep my life, fill my womb.” Tears welled up, but I held his gaze. I leaned in, pressing my soft lips to his. He froze, then melted, kissing me back with a hunger that set my skin on fire. In seconds, we were tangled, his hands roaming my body, giving me the pleasure I’d craved for three years.
Sunil pushed me onto the bed, his mouth devouring me. He kissed my neck, my tits, my stomach, leaving a trail of heat. He sucked my nipples hard, making me moan, “Fuck, Sunil, don’t stop!” My pussy was soaked, throbbing for him. He spread my legs, his tongue diving into my cunt, licking and sucking my clit. I screamed, “Oh God, eat my pussy!” His tongue fucked me deep, and I came hard, my juices dripping onto the sheets. My body was alive, every nerve buzzing with lust. I needed his cock.
I grabbed his dick—7 inches, rock-hard, thick as hell. I sucked it like a whore, deep-throating him, my lips tight around his shaft. “Sis, fuck, you’re killing me!” he groaned, his hands in my hair. I slurped and gagged, loving every inch. “Sunil, I can’t wait,” I gasped. “Fuck me, fuck my pussy raw!” He flipped me over, spread my legs wide, and slammed his cock into my cunt. The pain and pleasure hit like a storm. “Fuck, you’re tearing me apart!” I screamed, but I begged for more. He pounded me, his dick stretching my pussy, each thrust making my tits bounce. “Harder, brother, fuck your sister’s cunt!” I cried. He fucked me for 20 minutes—missionary, doggy, me riding him—until he exploded, pumping hot cum deep inside me. I collapsed, panting, fulfilled for the first time.
The next morning, Sunil came back with sex pills from the market. “Sis, these four days, I’m gonna fuck you pregnant,” he grinned. My pussy ached for it. Over the next four days, we fucked like animals. He took me everywhere—on the bed, in the shower, against the kitchen counter. One night, he bent me over the couch and fucked my ass. His cock ripped into my tight hole, and I screamed, “Fuck, my ass is breaking!” But soon, I was moaning, “Fuck my ass, Sunil, harder!” He came in my ass, my pussy, my mouth—40 times in four days, 10 of them up my ass. Each time, he filled my womb, and I prayed it’d take.
When my in-laws and husband returned, my mother-in-law handed me a charmed fruit from some mystic. “Eat this and sleep with your husband tonight. You’ll conceive,” she said. I played along, faking sex with my husband, but my body still hummed from Sunil’s cock. A month later, my period didn’t come. The doctor confirmed I was pregnant. Last month, I gave birth to a son—Sunil’s son. My in-laws think it’s a miracle from their mystic, but I know the truth. Sunil saved me, fucked me into motherhood. And when we get the chance, we still fuck, our secret burning hotter than ever.