A Sister’s Love free porn video

Hello, to all ISS readers. This is again, ur Abhishek Singh, 18 male from east Delhi. It is around 1 year that I haven’t post a story to this site. But now, my lusty soul has again encouraged me to write some more new stories.I don’t want to waste ur time more.So, this story begins from here..”Did your brother force you?” asked the doctor.”No” she said, “I seduced him.” It was at a marriage reception that Dr. Gopika, gynaecologist in a local medical college hospital, who knew of my interest in human sexual behaviour, told me about a diary of a former young patient of hers that she thought may be of value to me. The next day itself I collected the roll of loose sheets tied up with string. It was not a diary really; the girl had jotted down certain happenings in her life on paper cut out from her old school notebooks. The girl wrote in Tamil in her print like hand. I present my translation hoping that I have managed to preserve the tone of her writing. Apart from excluding matter of no relevance to the story I have not tampered with the text.

I once considered as unrealistic stories and movies in which lovers crazed by unfulfilled love hold hands and jump off cliffs. Not any more. I now know there is no limit to what lovers can do when in the frenzy of their passion. I am afflicted. No, I am not thinking of jumping off cliffs. I want to do something even more frightening than that. Movie story writers will not dare deal with the theme of my affliction. The person to whom I have lost my heart is my blood brother. Incest they say is against nature. Religions prohibit it, and it is against law of this land. All very good reasons to steer clear of it, but I have no control over my feelings. My brother loves me too, which is natural enough; but I do not know if is it just the deep love a brother has for his only sister, or I am in his sexual fantasies. Most of the time when he looks at me it does not affect me, but at times there is something in the look that sends a thrill through my body. If he were to call me at those times he pronounces my name Mahesh with an intonation that quite blows me over. Deep down I am sure he has sexual thoughts about me at those times. My greatest worry is that he might develop interest in another girl. The very thought of his being with another girl gets me tensed up. I will not allow that to happen, I won’t.

I do not know how it started. I always loved my only brother as any sister would. In my eighteenth year he became the object of my sexual fantasies. Maybe all sisters hold their older brothers as their fantasy objects at some phase in their lives. In my case however it became more intense till it is now all absorbing. His image is in my mind’s eye all the time. When I see a man’s face in a poster the face changes to that of my brother. At times young men who come to my counter in the department store where I am a sales person look so like my brother that I smile at them in an intimate way. Some of these men get excited; I have put on a stern face to shake them off. I think of him and him alone while masturbating which I seem to be doing very often these days. My brother, who at 23 is two years older then me, is quite ordinary looking: medium height and medium build with a somewhat flat face. His eyes are not particularly large but they sparkle. May be only I see the sparkle for he has not been doing too well in job interviews. He is a clerk in a shop selling bicycles. Nothing much, but better than driving an auto that my father did almost till a few days before his death. My job is better too than my mother’s; she has been a top servant woman for as long as I can remember.

My brother is a gentle person. He always wants to help others. Everyone in our street likes him. We live in a crowded by-lane in Purasawalkam. Even by Chennai standards it is dense with people. The children call him Mano anna (elder brother) and the grown ups call him Mano thambi (younger brother). There are two girls in the houses opposite ours who have an eye on my brother. One of them is quite pretty. They are very friendly with me because I am his sister. Little do they know that I consider them my rivals and hate them from the bottom of my heart.

I love Mondays. It is my off day. His office time is ten. My mother leaves at seven after preparing rice cakes for our breakfast. My mother and I are up early. We take our bath before the brother who is a late riser. He needs hot water. When I ask my mother why I do not get hot water for my bath (except on very cold days in January) she says that women must do with cold water. Ours is a society in which men get everything. When we have chicken for dinner my brother gets the drum sticks, one for lunch and one for supper. My mother and I have to do with the wings. On Mondays I can watch my brother take his bath by peeping from an opening I have enlarged in the kitchen window. He takes his bath in the open. He wears a thin towel round his waist. When it gets wet it sticks to his genitals, and I watch with fascination. His scrotum is funny. Just before he pours water on himself I can see it hanging loose. As soon as he wets himself it becomes tight. The penis is a funny thing too. At times it is small and shrivelled, and at times it becomes thicker and longer. I believe the penis becomes thick and hard during sexual intercourse. I have not seen an erect one in man. I have seen it many times in the donkey of a dhobi who lives nearby. His donkey often strays into our area. Its cock becomes really long and thick. Once it was standing behind a female donkey and was nibbling its tail. Its cock was monstrous. I wanted to see how the cock goes into the female donkey’s vagina. Then inexplicably the female donkey ran away. I was disappointed. It is funny isn’t that the only two organs in the body that change visibly in shape are the parts of male’s genitals. Does it mean that the male is more powerful than the female and is entitled to both the drum sticks?

I can feel by the way a man looks at me whether he is just appreciating me as a woman or is eating me up with lust. I suppose all women get the feeling. With my brother I am not sure. At times I feel it is not quite brotherly appreciation of a sister. I wish he would look at me with lust that so many who come to my store do. I must be pretty for them to do so. My mother thinks I am the prettiest girl in the neighbourhood. I do not think so; the girl in the opposite house I have spoken about before is much prettier. I like to think that I resemble actress Snega. Her face I fancy is like mine, or rather the other way about. She is much taller though. All the girls I know think they resemble one actress or the other. My brother likes actress Meera Jasmine. He has a picture of her stuck to the inside of his cupboard door. I approve of his choice. She is about my height and build. The actor I like is Vijay. My brother does not understand what I see in someone who looks like any young man in the street. I like him because he has a distant resemblance to my brother: size, body structure and shape of the head. The face is different. Like my brother Vijay is also slow to show emotion. I am able to relate to him. I cannot relate to a he-man like Vikram who is my brother’s favourite actor. Movies and movie songs are the only entertainment for most people in this country. We rarely visit theatres. It is too expensive for us. There are so many movies on TV each day in the many channels that one need not go to theatres to see them unless you want to see them fresh. I do not like TV serials. In an effort to end each episode on a high note the producers distort the stories. Moreover in serials most of the characters seem to be bad people. That is not so in movies, and certainly not so in real life.

I like love scenes. I used to think that only men want fight scenes. It is not so. Many women like it too. I close my eyes during the fight scenes, especially when Vijay is involved. I am disappointed with the way lover do their part in our movies. With all that paint on the face, and the lights and the heat, and the dozen technicians watching it is not easy to do love scenes realistically. I am not bothered if the actors are not doing it well. I imagine it is my brother and I who are making love and I do a very good job of it. At times I do it so well that I become very moist in my pussy and I have to wash myself.

Today is to me a day that I have been dreading, but which most girls would be eagerly waiting for—a young man is visiting my home to ‘view’ me, an essential first step in arranging matches. It turned out to be the most memorable day in my life. The reason why it is memorable day has nothing to do with the man who visited. A week before I could sense that the day of ‘bride viewing’ was not far off. Mother was extra kind to me, and when our eyes met she smiled an oily smile. On Saturday we had chicken for lunch and surprise of surprises I got to eat one whole drum stick. Shortly after that she told me that the next day the boy with his parents and an uncle are visiting. I protested, but mother promised that nothing will happen without my consent. During the course of the day she told me about them apparently to get me into a receptive frame of mind. It seems the father and son are owners of a busy shop in nearby Tana Street, and that they own double storey brick house and not single storey partly thatched one like what we own, and so on and so forth.

“What harm is there in just allowing them a visit,” said my brother. I had no choice but to agree. They came an hour late. That was the custom. Later when we serve snacks and coffee the father or the uncle would say that they had coffee in a friend’s house just before they came here. This was to give the impression that they had viewed another girl, and that we had competition. I had to remain inside till called for. Of course I could see them from my hide. In this case there was only one young man in the party, but on occasions the girl will have the problem of decided which of the men was the hero of the day. My man was of medium height and lean. The mother did not seem formidable, and his only sister, a married woman, was not traditional sister-in-law material. Of the two older men I decided, for some unexplainable reason, that the fatter one was the uncle. It turned out to be so.

For some time the talk was about friends and relatives in the hope of finding a common friend. Mother then offered snacks which after the usual protest they accepted. She served jangiri, a sweet, and muruku, a savoury. They will of course eat with their fingers. The important point in tradition is that the items served should be so dry that there would be no need to wash hands. Washing hands is bad omen. It was my duty to serve coffee. I dressed in my best sari, replaced my trinket ear rings for real gold ones, and my gilded neck ornament for real gold chain. Like all girls, whether willing or not for the arrangement, I came out in my very best. Therein lay an important point in female psychology—no girl likes rejection. At a signal from my mother I stepped in rather like a circus animal entering the ring. I carried a tray with coffee in stainless steel tumblers. I offered coffee to the father and the uncle and then to the young man. To serve women before the senior men was unthinkable. I did not meet the eye of the young man when I offered him coffee. The mother smiled and so did the sister. I rather liked the sister. They seemed pleased.

I did not have to face pressure from my mother to say yes to the offer. It was true that the father owned a shop and that his business flourished, but it was a shop selling Indian made foreign liquor, namely brandy and whisky. Selling liquor is not respectable, especially with my mother who had enough problems with a husband was never missed his daily dose of arrack, an Indian made Indian liquor. We gave the usual excuse that I wished to do ‘further studies’.”Please leave me alone,” I told mother. Later when I was alone in the room with my brother I told him not to bother me with more offers unless it is someone so like him that there was no difference.”I that case I must offer myself,” he said.”That is what I dream of,” I said. I met his eye and smiled coquettishly. He smiled a very loving and tender smile. “Mischievous imp,” he said and catching me by the head he kissed me on the cheek. Brothers and fathers kissing grown up sisters or daughters is not the practice in our culture. This first kiss sent a thrill down my spine.”What about the other one,” I said. My voice quavered for I was trembling. He kissed my other cheek.

“What about this,” I said pointing to my pouting lips. We then hugged and kissed on the lips as if we were lovers. As far as I was concerned we were indeed lovers from that moment on. This bride viewing episode brought me to crisis point. If I let it drift my life would go waste. Life without my brother was not possible. I wept my eyes out. Early that morning came the realisation that self pity would not solve my problem. I had to take the lead; my brother cannot do that. I have to show the nature of my love for him in a way that left no room for doubt. The burden was solely on my shoulders. I steeled myself to the resolve that I would not shed any tears on this score from now on. I had to device some plan to declare my love for him. I mulled over it and came out with a plan.

Birthday celebrations are not part of Purasawalkam by-lane customs. My mother tells me that in the house where she does top work birthdays are important. Cake cutting, candle blowing, and singing the birthday song are routine, and when it is a child’s birthday the parents organise games to which all the friends of the child are invited. In the corporation school I studied birthday babies did not come to school with a bag of sweets to distribute to her classmates. Neither was birthday considered at home. I wanted to break new ground.”Saturday is your birthday Mano,” I said one morning. “I am inviting you to a movie.””Hey, thank you Mahesh, but why this new form of celebration.””To brighten our dull lives,” I said.

I rode side-saddle perched precariously on my brother’s two wheeler’s tiny back seat. I held him tight by the waist. It I not often that I get a chance to ride on the back of his two wheeler (I do not have a licence to drive). It was a thrilling ride embracing my brother by the waist. I got the tickets at Abirami complex of theatres. We got in and took our seats. I had chosen a movie that was only a few days to go before change. The few patrons were mostly young couples. This was what I had planned for. The couples have not come to watch the movie but cuddle and kiss and fondle.”What are you looking for,” asked my brother.”For better seats.””Are these not good enough?””Not for a birthday boy,” I said. I found what I wanted and we moved there.”I do not see anything special in these seats,” said my brother. To our left two seats away there was a couple, and another couple directly in the row in front of us. This was what I was looking for. One or the other, or maybe both are sure to put on a show. That was what I was after. I of course did not explain that to my brother. I waited and hoped.

How long the couple two seats away in our row were waiting for this opportunity one knows not, but they commenced action even before the titles display was over. The girl leaned back and rested her head on his shoulders. His hand slid under her pallav. She must have undone the blouse buttons and was not using bra. From where we sat I could see his hand fondling her bare breasts, big ones. It was clearly a well practised routine. Mano was darting glances in their direction too, and I could see a bulge forming over the front of his pants. I was already wet. I folded the arm rest dividing my seat from Mano’s and slid towards him till our thighs and bodies were in contact. I folded my hands round his arm and rested by head on his shoulders. He tenderly brought his other hand round and rubbed my cheek and then my forehead and then swiped his palms across my face down to my neck. I moaned and nestled closer to him.”Can you see the couple next to us Mano?” I said in a whisper.”I can Magesh.”

“Do you think it is proper?””Why not? Do you think it is improper? If so we can move to another seat.””I like to see them that way. It is lovely. Do you think it is lovely too?””Yes I do.””Would you like to do the same?”

“What a funny question.””Anyway answer.””I would, of course. Which young man would not?””Then what prevents you.””The girl is missing.””What am I? A boy?””You are my sister.””What if?””It’s not done.””Who said it?””It is generally known to be wrong.””Suppose the sister wants it?””Do you?””Desperately; passionately, please Mano darling do.” I did not wait for his response. I had already undone the blouse hooks when I was sliding towards him. I was not wearing bra that evening. I turned my body partly away from him just as the other girl was doing, and taking hold of his right hand which was nearest to me I took it round my back and placed it on my bare right breast. I prayed that he would not be shocked and withdraw his hands and chide me. He did not. His soft hand on my breast produced a sensation that can only be described as delicious. His first touch was hesitant, but then he gained confidence and he gently played with my breast. My breasts, though not quite up to the level of our neighbour’s, were quite an impressive pair. I pushed myself closer to him, so close that there was no more to go.

My blouse was open but covered by my loosely drawn pallav which I had left long for the occasion. I turned a little more to my right and reached for and took hold of his other hand and placed it on the other breast. Now he was fondling both breasts. Then his hand on my left breast wandered to my abdomen and went on to explore the space below the sari pleats at the waist. I had tied the sari somewhat loosely and when I tucked in my abdomen he was able to insert his hand under my sari. A brought my hips closer to him and soon he was on my pussy mound. I could feel his hand playing over the closely trimmed hair. And then he went further till a finger was on the clitoris. A thrill passed through me. I lifted one foot and then the other and spread my thighs. He played with my clitoris and went further down the slit, and then he took out his hand. I could see that his fingers were wet.”It’s heavenly.” I said.

His hand was back on the breast. He pinched the tits, and then he kneaded the breasts. I moaned gently. I placed one hand on his thigh and pinched a large bunch of flesh. This went on for some time.”Darling brother, you are doing so much for me should I not reciprocate?””How?””See that girl.” That girl was leaning back as if viewing the screen intensely but her hand as on her partner’s crotch, and she was moving her hand up and down.” My brother must have been thinking on the same lines for he lent forwards and I threw my sari pallav over his thighs and unzipped him. With some assistance from him I got his cock out. I was monstrous. I held the shaft and then passed my hand over the expanded tip and then finally I grasped it close to the rose and started pumping. He meanwhile played with my breasts. In the excited state we were in it did not take much time for my brother to ejaculate.”Magesh, take away your hand, I may spill.””I want you to spill.””Your hand will get all dirty.”

“I do not consider it dirty. It is holy. Spill on me my darling brother, please, please.” He did just that. It came in massive spurts and the warm fluid filled my fist and flowed on my hand. I soaked it all in my Pallav he did a bit of wiping with his handkerchief. He zipped and I lent back. I licked what was sticking To my hand he turned to see me do that.”Need sugar?” He chuckled. I was happy to hear him laugh. I thought he would be very nervous.”Not sugar darling, it is quite sweet. A pinch of salt may improve it.” I chuckled too. We left the theatre shortly before the intermission. On the ride back I asked my brother to drive his vehicle into a pot hole filled with water and splash mud on my sari. He did so. I went home and had a good excuse to wash my sari. Chennai’s complaining drivers please note: pot holes have their uses too! I cleaned up as soon as we reached home. I could never have imagined that one discharge can soak a whole pallav, or one movie session saturate front and back of a pair of knickers so thoroughly.

My brother and I are like newly weds waiting for the nuptials. Whenever we get a chance we cuddle and fondle with my hand on his cock and his hand on my pussy, alas over the clothes. I return from my store early today giving headache as excuse for half day’s leave. I have a job to do. I have a married colleague in my store Parvathy, who speaks of sexual matters with frankness that sets me and Mohana, an unmarried colleague, squirming. We squirm, but we listen nevertheless. Its seems that her husband used to like her clean shaven during the first two years of married life but now wants her to sport a heavy brush. He is not satisfied with what she is able to grow. “Why don’t you try the men’s hair growth tonic,” said Mohana who had a streak of humour in her. The senior colleague was not amused.

I do not know what my brother’s fancy was regarding woman’s pubic hair, but I wanted his first viewing to be unimpeded. I wonder if I am a shameless woman. Most women would be dreading the day when they have to expose themselves to a man, but I am waiting for that day and preparing assiduously for it. I suppose having a brother for lover makes it all different. I used my brother’s razor to shave my pussy. I usually only trim it with scissors but now I gave it its first shave. It is not as difficult as I thought it would be. Some broad swipes, but the inner leaves needed steady hands. I examined it in my hand mirror. I do not consider the pussy an object of beauty. No woman does, but men do and that’s what really matters. My pussy is smooth and ready for inspection by the commander-in-chief.

My mother had gone to Chinglepet for a wedding. Thursday was weekly holiday for my brother. My brother knows that I have exchanged my weekly off day with a colleague to be at home that day. My heart is thudding as much from excitement as fear. My mother leaves home early and was expected back only in the evening. I served breakfast to my brother. He squatted on a mat with a plantain leaf spread in front of him. I place one rice cake on the leaf, and he poured himself chutney. He is a gulper; soon I served him another. As I bend down he looked up into my valley which I had exposed liberally for his benefit. He smiled and I smiled back. I could feel a warm surge pass over my face. “Is that pallav necessary?” It was certainly unwanted. I removed it and tucked it to my waist. “Better.” Soon the time for the next serving arrived. I bend down and serve. He looked up again.

“Too many hooks,” he said. I released the top two hooks of my blouse. I had no bra on that day in honour of the occasion. I looked up seeking approval. He shook his head: not adequate. I removed one more hook. No satisfaction yet. I removed them all. The blouse is open and the breasts are exposed. He lifted up his left hand and reached for one breast. He passed his hand over it and then gently pressed it. His hand wandered off to the other breast. The tit of that breast got his attention. He pinched it and then he pressed it in, and then watched it plop out. He then started eating rapidly as if some important job was awaiting him.”Slow down,” I said, “and you have to eat one more than the usual five. You will need extra energy.””Extra energy, why?” He winked. If he expected me to crumble in shame he was mistaken. I replied brazenly. “I thought you would know; i’ll explain after breakfast.” There is no time when a sister cannot tease a brother. He finished and washed his hands. I disposed off the plantain leaf in the garbage bin. I stood in the room with coffee tumbler in hand. He wiped his hands on a towel hanging from the line. His eyes were on me. I was fidgeting.

“With the blouse open partly revealing those magnificent breasts you look like a temple goddess,” he said.”Have coffee,” I said to change the topic.”No I want milk,” he said pointing to my breasts.”I don’t think there is any milk there.””Any objections if I try.” I suddenly felt very motherly to him.”No my darling, no objection whatsoever. Come to me your sister and suck. I would love to feel your lips on my tits.” I came closer to him. I placed the coffee tumbler on the table and removed my blouse altogether. I placed a hand on the back of his neck and brought his head close to one breast and with the other hand lifted it up and placed the tit on his lips. He looked up and met my eye. There was no shame, no blush in me. I was smiling with affection for someone whom I have loved in some way or the other all my remembered days. He first plucked the tit with his lips and then he caught the tit between his upper lip and slightly protruded tongue and started sucking.

“Cover your teeth with your lips and bite honey.” My tit needed hard pressure. He did so. A thrill passed through me. “It’s wonderful,” I said softly. I was unable to stand. I slowly sat on the mattress on the floor careful not to lose touch with his lips. I was now resting with back on the wall. My brother was lying with head on my lap and sucking away like a baby and I was making the crooning noises mothers make. Like mothers I soon detached his lips from one breast and attached it on to the other. I wonder if suckling mothers feel the sensation I felt. Even at that moment when I was yet to unite with him I imagined that it was the baby I bore for him that was sucking. It was a great sensation and I was making clicking noises each time the sensation peaked. Then suddenly the nipples ceased to have any sensation. My pussy now felt hot.

Without being aware of it I was bending my knees and spreading my thighs and at the same time drawing my sari upwards. I was now pressing his head downwards towards the pussy. He let go off the tit and was now staring at my pussy for I had spread my thighs and lifted my feet up in the air displaying my pussy, overflowing with juices, for him to see.

“Far better than what I imagined it would be,” he said. His voice was hoarse with awe.”So you have been imagining.””Of course I have. For years, you were always my fantasy baby. You have shaved it.””Using your razor.””Indeed, that was why when I was shaving this morning I got a hard-on.” This was really funny. I laughed.”Yes, God promise, I did.” He kissed my pussy and then he drew back a little to examine it. He passed his fingers over the mound and the outer leaf. With his index and thumb he spread the inner leaves. I was now fully on my back with my thighs spread so widely that they were on the side of the body almost touching the mattress. My brother lifted up the clit hood to see the tense clitoris.”Quite angry your clitoris,” he said.”It is putting on a mighty display in your honour.””May I touch it?””Of course, but only with your tongue.” He dropped on his knees and gently kissed the clitoris. I used both hands to spread the inner leaves till the clitoris protruded like a button. He touched with the tip of his long and pointed tongue. A thrill passed up my body. Then he licked. An indescribable sensation racked my body. I now moved my thighs as wide as it would go and then I brought down my feet on the mattress and lifted up my pelvis, and as I lifted my pelvis I pressed his head down firmly with both my hands. I went through this cycle of motion again and again. He speeded up and I was moving in frenzy and then he stopped. When he restarted soon after he was licking slowly in broad swipes. I felt as if I was falling off a cliff. It was a sensation words cannot describe. I screamed a muffled scream as I had an orgasm of unimaginable intensity.

“O! My darling brother this is just divine,” I said. “Now fuck me.” I used the word for the first time. He climbed on top of me. His cock was large and angry with thick veins coursing over it. I held it. It was hot. I took it to my pussy. I inserted it. My pussy was so wet that it went in producing a momentary sharp pang as the membrane ruptured—my brother was taking my virginity, what more could a girl want. He is pumped and I moved my pelvis to his rhythm. Soon he ejaculated; my orgasm coincided. He waited for me and then gave me another. Later my brother said that girls do not generally have orgasm in their first.”Generally they don’t, because generally it is not the brother who does it,” I said. We lay hugging each other in our nakedness. My brother wanted me to wash but I held my thighs tightly together. I wanted to hold his precious semen inside me for as long as possible. I knew the danger, but the danger enhanced the pleasure. Then I got up and washed and went on with household chores. My brother slept.

Mother is on one of her rare visits to relatives. She has gone to Manali to condole an aunt who had lost her husband. We get our second chance. At his request I undressed and sat crouching on a stool with both feet on the stool. Probably this was the pose in his favourite nude photo. From where he sat my brother could see parts of my breasts with my pussy exposed between my fully flexed hips. He sat and admired and then he crawled towards me and applied his tongue to my pussy.

“Anything you want,” he asked hospitably.”I want to take in my mouth,” I said. Only a sister could have been so bold. He sat on a chair with leg stretched and spread. His cock was waving in the air. I crouched on the floor between his legs. I caught his cock in my hand. It was hot. I ran my fingers along the shaft and then did the same with the tip of my nose, and then with my lips. I retracted the foreskin and kissed the rose. My brother tenderly rubbed my cheeks and played with my lips and then entwining his fingers in my hair. By now the cock was large and throbbing. I touched his balls. It was smooth. I took it into my mouth. It was quite a mouthful. I retracted the foreskin and plopped the rose in and out of my mouth. I encircled the flare of the rose with my lips and rubbed it in and out. He moaned. I took the cock as deep into the throat as possible and then I pulled it out. I took it out, looked up and smiled.”Like it?” I asked.

“Very much so,” he said. Brother was holding my head with both his hands and moving his hips. I was working with speed for I could sense that he cannot hold it any longer. And then he poured. I took it all in my mouth, each spurt as it shot out, and I swallowed it without spilling a drop. Some leaked out of the angles of the mouth, but with my long tongue I licked my lips. Then I took out the cock which as now shrivelled and licked every bit I could squeeze out.”Need salt?” he asked.”No,” I said, “it is perfect.” Then we lay down with me holding his cock in my mouth and he with head between my thighs with lips on my pussy. His face was wet with my juices. We snoozed. I got up and checked the time. Mother’s arrival was still a couple of hours away. My brother was sleeping soundly. He has the innocent face of a baby while he slept. I have a momentary pang of guilt for driving him along paths that by himself he would not dare step on. Then I am strong again. I wanted him to have some more fun. I sat in the pose that he seems to fancy with hips fully flexed and feet tucked in close to the body. ‘Mano,” I called. After repeated calls he opened his eyes. The first thing that caught his eyes must have been my pussy pepping from between my thighs. He was must thought he was dreaming. Then he woke up, looked up at me and smiled. He crawled towards my pussy and started licking. Soon I was on my back with feet in the air vibrating my hips to his stimulation. I have a massive orgasm and then he comes on top of me and I insert. We have orgasms together. He rolls off.

“Come on, wash,” he said. “No. I want to keep it within me as long as possible,” I said. He looked at me uncertainly. Then he went to the bathroom. Once again I hold my thighs tightly together to keep his precious semen in my vagina. It is madness, I know, but I cannot help myself. It is my fervent prayer that my self-willed obstinacy does not harm those whom I hold precious. After a while I reluctantly go out to wash for mother arrival time was nearing. Our honeymoon continued. We get time for sex very infrequently and that only for quick ones. We tried various positions like I suppose all newly weds do. The woman on top I found very exhausting and the doggie uncomfortable. Man on top is the best for I can hug my brother and press my breasts against his chest.

We are very careful not to demonstrate our affection for each other in front of mother lest she suspect. But mother who knew every one of my moods one day looked at me in a peculiar way. She smiled a wry Smile.”Have you fallen in love Mahesh,” she asked.”What makes you say such a funny thing,” I responded somewhat sharply.”The sparkle in your eyes and body language is not just of a girl who has fallen in love; it is as if you are in the thick of your honeymoon.””I have not fallen in love and if you think I am as happy as a girl in her honeymoon the best you can do to keep me in that happy state is by not bringing in fresh boys for bride viewing,” I said.We took no care at all about pregnancy. We used no contraceptives at all. It was sheer madness.

Today is worrying time for me. Strangely enough when the event happened I was thrilled. I went with my brother to shop in T. Nagar for a sari for mother. The sales woman while she was billing our choice smiled and asked how long it was since we were married. ‘Wait a minute. I’ll guess’ she said, and then came out with the answer. ‘Four weeks.’ I was thrilled that she should mistake us for a married couple. I turned to my brother and reached for his hand. ‘Almost correct,’ I said. ‘Have a baby soon,’ she said, ‘don’t do this silly family planning stuff my daughter is doing.’ It was on the bus on my way back that I started worrying. I have gone out many times with my brother, but this was the first time someone has mistaken him for my husband. Was there a change in our body language that made others mistake us? What if our neighbours suspect. What if mother suspects. Has reckoning time come.

The expected happens—my periods are overdue by three days. Deep down I feel I am with child. It was in the early morning conscience hour that I realise the enormity of the problem confronting me. I shiver. I do not regret my action. If placed in similar circumstances again I would do what I did. But there is no gainsaying that for an unmarried girl living with her family I am in a terrible state. The only person to whom I can go for assistance is my brother. But he would be of no use for something like this. I am however not without resources. I have heard of Dr. Gopika of the nearby Government Medical College Hospital who terminated the pregnancy of my colleague Parvathy in my department store. She spoke highly of her skill and kindness and particularly appreciated her for not chiding her about her foolishness in getting into this state in spite of all the contraceptive methods available. My case would strain the liberal attitude of the doctor the limit. My colleague was a married woman with two children. I had no idea what the doctor would think of a girl like me. I have no choice but to face the problem.

Preliminary lab test are all over. I meet the doctor for the first time. Dr. Gopika was about fifty, broad faced, with streaks of grey in her hair and a sincere smile. She studied the results of the investigations and came to the point straight away.”Unmarried?””Yes.””You are pregnant. If you want to get married to the person responsible my social worker and I can help.””No,” I said.”Why not? We have a lot of success in making it all right.” I hesitated. There must have been something in my body language that made the perceptive doctor suspect the nature of my problem. Suddenly the attitude of the doctor changed. She rose, came round to where I sat, and with her face close to me she looked into my eyes and spoke tenderly. “Tell me my dear, who is the man.”

“He is my brother.” The doctor did not react at all.”He seduced you, or was a chance occurrence, or did he force you?””I seduced him.””You seduced him? Are you sure you are not trying to protect him.””I planned it.” Her response was unexpected. She smiled. My colleague in the store was right. This doctor did not waste time on what had already happened. The next question was immensely practical.”Do you want to continue the relationship?””Yes I want to very much,” I said.”Use condom, and for additional precaution I will insert a copper T. When you want pregnancy I can remove it.” Was the doctor actually encouraging me to continue the relationship? I do not know.”Come tomorrow morning on an empty stomach. Can you bring your mother?””No,” I said. The doctor must have noted the horror in my answer.”Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. Please be assured that only I know of your brother’s part in it. No one in the department knows it. Keep it a secret. Bring your brother, that one.”

“I have only one brother. I will bring him.”That night I was miserable. The thought of destroying my brother’s baby growing in my womb was devastating. I cannot even weep to let out my feelings lest my mother note my swollen eyes and institute enquiries. But I could not help shedding some tears. But I had no choice. I swore before God that I will never allow such a situation to happen again. I was at the minor operation theatre at the appointed hour. A nurse called me in and made me lie on a couch. I felt a prick and then some vague sense of people talking in whispers. When I woke up from the induced sleep I was in the bed with my brother by my side. I could never have guessed that terminating of pregnancy caused by sex with one’s own brother could be so devoid of hassles.

I met the doctor several times after the operation. I needed only one review but the doctor seemed to have taken a fancy to me. At times she invited me to her home. One day I asked her the reason why she was not angry for my having sex with my brother.”I could see that your passion was great,” she said. “Even if I thought what you were doing was something horrible I would not have told you not to for you cannot help yourself.””You do not think it is wrong.””It is against the law, and that is wrong. But if two people love each other with extraordinary passion that cannot be wrong irrespective of the relationship between them. Do you know of any married woman with children who falls in love with a man and wants to leave her family and go to him?””I know. My classmate’s mother did that.””Do you think it was wrong?””Yes I did then; especially because it made my classmate so sad.””Now?””I have not thought about it. May be I will take a more lenient view.””That woman should not be condemned. The husband, her children, and society should accept it.””Later on that classmate accepted the change. When we her friends say harsh things about her father she would defend him saying that he could not help it.””She is right. Your relationship with your brother is in the same category.”

“Do you know of other instances where brother-sister love had occurred?” The doctor smiled broadly as if she was happy I asked that question.

“I know many. They come here. Most have been chance occurrences, and a few have involved force, short of rape. But I know one instance rather well where the sister loved her brother with a lover’s passion, but the brother loved his sister with a brother’s love.””How did it end?””Sadly of course. Not many girls have your energy and your determination. She did not have the courage to declare her love. Her brother to this day does not know how passionately his sister loved him. He is now married and has a happy family.””She?””She married her profession and lives a spinster.””Is she still sad?””Time heals, as you know, but on occasions she does think of him and sheds tears of self pity.” The doctor was silent for a while.”You say you seduced him,” continued the doctor. “I am curious to know how you managed it. Why don’t you write your story? I would very much like to read it.””I write about myself. I’ll give you those papers,” I said.

The only photograph in her house was a small framed one on her dressing table. It is a picture of her brother as a young man.I am almost certain that the doctor is that woman. Why else should she be not just supportive but actually encourage me as if I have achieved what she could not.The story ends there. Some days later I met the doctor to return the papers.”How did you find the story?” she asked.”Extraordinary,” I said.”Did you find it believable?””Of course, every word of it. What happened to Mahesh?”

“A year and a half later her mother died. One day she came and wanted the copper T removed. She was going to a distant unknown place where she will start life anew as her brother’s wife. For almost two years I did not hear from her. I suspect she did not want others to know where she lived. A month ago I receive a letter form her. She says she is happy in her new place. She sent this snap.”The doctor opened her hand bag and took out a snap. It was a photograph of a six-month old baby.”Rounds off the story nicely, does it not?” she said.”It does,” I said. Did u like the story? Please rate it and post ur comments to me and one thing more, this story is not real. It’s just made by me for ur enjoyment.There is another information for all the readers that, I m a young call boy. I give services in all the areas of I.P.EXTENSION (Delhi) and other areas attached with it, with a nominal fees of just Rs. 130/- for 1hour and 30minutes. I m quiet experienced in this job as I have satisfied around six girls through this facility.So, any married / unmarried women, unsatisfied aunty or a girl above 15 years of age desiring for a soft core or hardcore sex can mail me.Your secrecy / privacy would be maintained at any cost and the satisfaction of sex would be guaranteed by me.You have to just pick up ur computer and mail me ur comments to enjoy, because life fucks everyone!!