Indian Sex Story: Desi Bhabhi’s Afternoon Chudai with Her Devar While Jiju Was at Work
I was alone again. Just like every weekday — lunch half-finished, TV playing some soap opera in the background, and no one to speak to. Jiju leaves early and doesn’t come back before 8. That house, that saree… it makes you feel like a shadow sometimes.
Then he knocked. My devar.
He said he came to pick up his old books, but I knew that was just an excuse. The way his eyes scanned my saree — a soft peach one, thin cotton, clinging to my hips from the heat. I could see it in his eyes: the way he wanted to rip it off. And maybe… I wanted him to.
I offered him chai. While it boiled, I bent slightly more than I needed to. His eyes didn’t move. I asked, “Don’t you want something sweeter than tea?” I don’t know where the words came from. He was quiet, but his lund wasn’t. I saw it — big, hard, pointing.
I locked the front door. He didn’t say a word.
I led him to the bedroom, where Jiju and I sleep. My hands were shaking, but my choot was wet. I lifted my saree, turned around, and bent. “Put it in,” I whispered. “Please. I can’t wait.”
His hands grabbed my hips like he was starving. One push — his lund slid inside me. My choot was soaking.
“Bhabhi…” he moaned, like he was surprised.
“Chup kar,” I said, pushing back harder. I wanted to feel every inch.
He pounded me, again and again. I was dripping. I looked down and saw my saree dragging on the floor, his hands squeezing my breasts from behind. He kept going — deeper, faster, until I screamed, “Aur! Aur lund chahiye!”
I swear I came three times before he exploded inside me.
When I turned, his face looked like a boy who stole sweets from a temple.
“Don’t tell anyone,” I smiled, adjusting my blouse. “But come again tomorrow.”
