I look at her on the sofa and feel disgusted. The room is not hot, but her face shines with sweat. Her long hair is open and messy, like she woke up and forgot to comb it. She wears a big t-shirt that sticks to her body because of the sweat. No bra. Her breasts are huge.
The nipples poke out clearly through the thin cloth. I want to look away, but my eyes keep going back. Her legs are wide open on the sofa. The shorts are so short that almost all her legs show. They are milky white, soft, and a little fat. She does not care.
She sits there like the sofa is her bed. She is short. She is chubby. Her whole body is round and heavy. She never goes out. All day she stays at home. She says she is preparing for the NEET exam, but I never see her studying. Books are on the table, but she is always eating snacks or sleeping.
I feel ashamed because she is my sister. People will think I am also lazy if they see her like this. She makes noise while eating. She leaves dirty plates everywhere. Her room smells of old food and sweat. Mom keeps telling her to clean, but Himani says “later” and goes back to the sofa.
Her t-shirt is wet under the arms and on the back. It sticks to her belly, too. The cloth is so thin I can see the shape of everything. Her thighs touch each other. When she moves, the fat jiggles. She scratches her leg, and the shorts go even higher.
I feel angry. Why can’t she wear proper clothes? Why can’t she sit like a normal person? I remember when we were small. Himani was cute then. She used to follow me everywhere. Now she is just a big, lazy girl who does nothing. She failed NEET two times already. Still, she says, “This year I will pass.”
But she sleeps till noon. She eats chips and watches the phone. Her phone is always in her hand. She does not even talk to me properly. If I say anything, she shouts, “Mind your own business.” The sweat drops from her neck into the t-shirt. The cloth becomes darker there.
Her breasts move when she breathes. I hate that I notice. I hate that she does not notice. She thinks no one is watching. But I am here. I see everything. The way her legs spread. The way her belly shows under the t-shirt. The way her hair falls on her sweaty face.
I want to tell her to take a bath. To wear a bra. To close her legs. To study properly. But I know she will not listen. She will laugh and say, “You are jealous.” Jealous of what? Of her dirty habits? Of her failing life? No. I want her to stop embarrassing me.
Himani turns and looks at me. Her eyes are small because of the fat on her face. She smiles with food in her teeth. “What?” she asks. I say nothing. I get up and walk away. My face feels hot. Not from the weather. From shame. From anger. From disgust. She is my sister, but sometimes I wish she were not.
Days have passed, and I still catch myself staring at that fat bitch sprawled on the sofa, but I keep grinding. Gym every day, going for runs, pushing the family business forward.
A few years ago, people sneered at me for picking commerce, for doing a BBA instead of science. Now I’m ripped, the numbers are up, and all they do is praise.
Himani, though—she was the golden one. Topped every test till 10th, chose science like it was destiny. Then NEET crushed her. Twice. Everything flipped the day she started 11th: homeschooling, no classes, just a lady tutor coming to the house.
She shut the world out. No friends, no outings, four years locked inside. She turns 21 next month and still hasn’t stepped into college. Sometimes pity sneaks in—she’s still my sister, only three years younger. Our minds aren’t far apart. Maybe she needs a friend. I can be that. I decide: today I will talk to her.
I reach home. Mom’s heading to a friend’s place—perfect. The house is ours for a couple of hours. Himani’s there, of course, slouched deep in the sofa, legs splayed, phone glowing. Mom waves goodbye. Door clicks.
I drop my bag and sit right beside her. She doesn’t look up. No bra again—those huge tits strain against the thin t-shirt, nipples sharp. Sweat beads along her collarbone. What the fuck am I thinking? Focus.
I take a deep breath and sit a little closer, trying not to stare at her chest rising and falling under that damp t-shirt. The room smells like her—snacks, sweat, and something stale. She’s scrolling on her phone, legs still spread wide, shorts riding up those thick thighs. I clear my throat.
“Himani,” I say softly, not wanting to start a fight. “Can we talk for a minute?”
She glances up, crumbs on her lips, and pauses her video. “Kya hai? I’m busy.”
I shift, keeping my eyes on her face. Those puffy cheeks, the messy hair sticking to her forehead.
“Listen, I know we’ve been distant. But… you’re turning 21 soon, and I see you like this every day. On the sofa, not studying, not going out. Mom’s worried, I’m worried. NEET didn’t work out twice, fine, but this can’t go on forever.”
She ignored what I said.
“You know we all are looking forward to seeing you become a doctor one day.”
“That’s it, ” she said. “That’s all you want. Doctor this doctor that…” She stopped as if she didn’t want to talk more.
“Himani…” As I was about to say something, she shut me off.
“Bhai, please don’t. I don’t want to talk.”
She got up, the smell of her sweat oozing out of her body. She walks past me and goes to her bedroom.
“Himani, you know I am there for you. Anything you need, you know you have your brother.”
I said this, but she didn’t look back and went on walking towards her room. I sighed, disappointed at my effort, but what can I do more?
It was around 1 in the night. I was scrolling through my phone when I noticed my door opening. It was Himani; it was dark in my room, but I could see somewhat because of the light coming from outside my window.
“Himani, what are you doing here now? What happened?”
“Shh, don’t speak so loudly, bhai. Mummy papa will wake up.”
She walked towards me and sat on my bed. I was in a sleeping position and tried to get up, but she put her hands on my shoulder and told me to stay there.
“Don’t bother getting up,” She said.
“But what happened?” I asked.
“Bhai, I am really sorry for today. You were trying to help me, and I was very rude. And I have always been with you. I always thought you looked down on me, but today I felt all you do is care for me.”
“Of course, Himani, I want you to shine and do better for yourself and not anybody. And that is why I offered my help. If there is anything I can do for you, I will definitely do it.”
Himani took a deep breath. “Anything you say, bhai?” In the mix of emotions, I replied, “Anything.” She smiled at me, but it looked different; it was as if she was blushing. “I am really glad.”
Her hand went down, below my stomach. “Bhai is willing to do anything for me.” As she finished saying this, she touched my dick. She started massaging it from the boxers I was wearing. During sleep, I only wear boxers. I was shocked.
As if she knew what was going to happen, she put her other hand on my mouth quickly. She leaned towards my face and whispered in my ear. “Shh. Mom and Dad will wake up if you make any noise.” She took her hand off my face.
“Himani, what the hell are you doing?” I said silently.
She just looked at me and smiled as her hand went inside my boxers and felt my dick and balls. It was rising. It got up in an instant. My dick felt the hand of my sister. And it felt good.
“Himani, don’t do this, you are my sister.”
“Bhai, all these years shut down in the home, not socialising, not meeting anybody, has pent up a lot of things inside me. And watching porn has only increased my frustration. Please don’t mind if your sister releases her frustration. You said you will do anything right?”
She smiled again and got hold of my erect dick. “Bhai, you sure are loaded there,” she giggled.
“Stop saying things like that, you are my sister, and we should not do this. I will help you, but not this.”
“I only want you, bhai.” She said this and removed my boxers. She looked at my erect dick held by her hand, and she gasped. “Bhai, that’s some dick you have.”
She took a good look at it and started stroking it. She looked at me and smiled. Her fingers tighten, slow, deliberate strokes that send sparks up my spine.
“Bhai…” she breathes, voice thick, “it’s so hot.”
I grip the sheet. “Himani, we stop now.”
She leans closer, breasts pressing soft against my arm through the nightshirt. “No one will know. Just tonight. Let me feel alive.” Her thumb swirls the tip of my cock. My hips jerk; I bite back a groan. She bends lower, her breath across the head of my cock, warm.
She sticks out her tongue and licks the tip once. I jump a little. My hands grab the bed sheet hard. “Quiet, Bhai,” she says, lips touching the head. She licks again, slow. A drop of clear liquid comes out. She spreads it with her tongue. It feels like fire. My hands grab the bed sheet tightly.
She opens her mouth and takes the head in. Her cheeks go in. She sucks softly first, then harder. Her tongue moves under the head, round and round. Saliva fills her mouth. It drips down my cock and makes my balls wet. She makes a small sound in her throat.
The sound shakes my whole body. One hand holds my balls and rolls them gently. The other hand strokes the part her mouth cannot reach. She moves up and down, slow. Every time she lifts her head, spit pulls like a thin string and breaks.
I look at her. Her face looks round and soft. Eyes half closed. Lips red and wet. She looks like a different girl, not the lazy sister on the sofa. She goes lower. The head touches the back of her throat. She makes a small choking sound but does not stop.
Tears come to her eyes. She breathes through her nose and takes more. I feel her throat tighten around me. My hips move up. She presses them down with her hands. “Breathe slow,” I say in a small voice. She does.
Then she starts moving her head faster. Up, down, up, down. Spit falls on my legs. The room is full of wet sounds. My breathing is loud. Her other hand goes between her legs. I hear a soft, wet sound. She is touching herself. The nighty is up to her waist. I see her big thighs shine with sweat.
I put my fingers in her hair. Not pushing, just holding. She makes a happy sound around my cock. She takes her mouth off. Breath comes fast. “I want to taste all of you,” she says. She moves lower. Her tongue licks under my cock, then my balls. She takes one ball in her mouth and sucks it softly.
I feel like I will explode. She comes back to the head. Now she moves fast. Hand and mouth together. Twist, suck, stroke. I feel it coming. “Himani, I’m close,” I say. She does not stop. She sucks harder. Looks up at me. Eyes say keep going. I come. Hard.
First shot goes in her throat. She swallows. Second, third, fourth. She drinks everything. Her throat moves. She keeps sucking till the last drop. When I finish, she lifts her head slowly. A line of my cum and spit joins her lips to my cock. She licks it and breaks it.
She climbs up. Her legs are wet. I smell her smell strongly now. Sweet and salty. She reaches for the water bottle beside my bed and drinks loads of water. My sister swallowed down my cum. It’s inside her body. She keeps the bottle aside and reaches for me.
She kisses me. Mouth open. Tongue pushes the taste inside me. I taste myself and her spit. I kiss back. My hands go to her back. Her nighty is wet with sweat.
“You are still hard,” she says, moving her hips. Her pussy rubs on my cock. It gets hard again fast.
She sits up. Pulls the nighty off. Throws it on the floor. A glimpse of outside light shows her body. Big breasts. Pink nipples. Round belly. Thick thighs. Everything shines with sweat. She bends forward. Kisses me again. More saliva mixed, my sister was kissing crazily, wet and messy.
“I want you inside,” she says.
I did not care now. I did not know what to do now. I had no control over myself. My sister ruled the situation, and her words got the work done as she wanted. She slides back down my body, her thick thighs brushing my sides. Her big, soft breasts swaying, belly round and glistening with sweat, hips wide and heavy.
Her hand finds my cock, still slick from her mouth. She strokes once, twice, slow and firm, thumb circling the head where a fresh bead of precum waits. I watch, heart pounding. She lines me up, the swollen tip kissing her entrance. She’s dripping—hot, sticky juices coating my shaft before I even move.
“Ready, bhai?” she whispers, voice husky. I nod. She lowers herself. Slow. The head stretches her open. Tight pussy. So fucking tight. A soft, wet sound as she sinks. Inch by inch. Her walls grip me like a fist, pulsing, sucking me in. We both groan.
Halfway down, she pauses. Bites her lip. Eyes flutter. Then she drops the rest of the way—full, deep, buried to the root. “Fuck,” I moan. She’s burning inside. Wet heat wrapped around every inch. Her pussy flutters, adjusting. She starts to move. Slow circles at first.
Hips rolling like waves. Her clit grinds against my pelvis with every turn. Her hands plant on my chest. Nails dig into my skin—sharp, perfect pain. I grip her hips. Big. Soft. Flesh spilling between my fingers. I guide her, help her rise and fall. Skin slaps skin. Soft, wet smacks fill the room.
She leans forward. Breasts hang heavy, nipples brushing my chest. Her mouth finds mine—open, hungry. She kisses deeply, tongue pushing thick saliva into me. I swallow it down, tasting her, tasting us. She breaks the kiss, a string of spit connecting our lips. Bites my lower lip—soft, then hard.
“Faster,” she breathes.
I thrust up. She slams down. We meet in the middle—hard. The bed creaks. Springs protest. She sits up straight. Handscoll on my thighs now. Back arched. Breasts bouncing wild—full, heavy, slapping together with every bounce. Sweat flies in tiny droplets, catching the moonlight like diamonds.
I reach between us. Thumb finds her clit—swollen, slick. I rub tight circles.
She shudders. “Yes, bhai… yes…” Her pussy clamps down. Milking me.
She cums hard.
A choked cry rips from her throat. Body shaking. Juices flood out, hot and thick, soaking my balls, running down my ass, pooling on the sheets. Her walls pulse around me, squeezing, pulling. I don’t stop. I pound her. Fast. Deep. Relentless.
Her tits bounce with every slam. Sweat drips from her neck, down between her breasts. She’s still coming—aftershocks rippling through her. Eyes rolled back. Mouth open in a silent scream.
“Inside,” she gasps. “Fill me. All of it.”
I bury myself. My cock swells. I cum.
First spurt—thick, hot, deep.
Second—harder.
Third—flooding her.
Pulse after pulse. I empty everything. Painting her insides white.
She milks me dry, pussy clenching, pulling every drop. We stay locked. My cock is twitching inside her. Finally, I pull out slowly. A thick river of white follows—dripping from her stretched hole, pooling beneath her.
She smiles, lazy, satisfied. Leans up. Kisses me softly. Tongue slips in, sharing the taste of sweat and sex. “Thank you, bhai,” she murmurs. “You really meant anything.”
I brush hair from her sweaty forehead. “Tomorrow, we start clean. Bath. Fresh clothes. And back to studying diligently.”
She nods. Sits up. Cum still oozing from her, running down her thighs in slow, creamy trails. She pulls the nightshirt back on. It clings to her wet skin. At the door, she turns. She smiles. Real, bright. Slips out. Door clicks shut. I lie back.
The room smells of sex, sweat, cum, and her. My cock softens. Heart slows.
To be continued.