Hi, my name is Akki, i 5’7, nd a 4.5-inch but thick black dick. My sister is fair and skinny. For some days, I was noticing my perfume bottle in my room was not being used for normal purposes. The perfume bottle reeked of fish again. I stared at it, the glass slick under my fingers, my stomach twisting with something sharper than disgust. Sakshi had been in my room while I was at football practice, again.
The third time this week. Her scent clung to everything: the rumpled bedsheets, the half-empty water glass by my lamp, the sticky keyboard of my laptop left slightly ajar. She wasn’t subtle. Not that she ever had been. Ever since her chest started pushing against her school blouse last year, she’d left little invasions everywhere, like a cat marking territory. I exhaled through my nose and tossed the bottle onto my dresser. It clattered against the wood, too loud.
Outside, the ceiling fan groaned, stirring the humid air. The house was quiet. Ma and Baba wouldn’t be back from the market for another hour. The bed creaked as I sat down, fingers digging into my thighs. My dick stirred uncomfortably in my shorts. That was the worst part, how my body reacted, traitorous and eager, even as my brain screamed wrong. Sakshi was my sister. Barely fifteen, all sharp elbows and nervous laughter.
But she wasn’t laughing when she crept into my room at night. Last week, I’d woken to the heat of her palm sliding under my waistband. She’d frozen when I groaned, her breath hitching. I kept my eyes shut, pretending to sleep, even as she wrapped her fingers around me. The wet sound of her lips parting. The choked whimper when I came into her mouth. She’d bolted afterward, her bare feet slapping against the hallway tiles.
I rubbed my face. My laptop screen blinked awake when I nudged the trackpad. The browser was open. Private mode. A paused video glowed on the screen, two figures tangled in a dim room, the girl’s dark hair fanned across the sheets. My pulse hammered in my throat. Sakshi’s search history was painfully obvious: “brother sister love,” “how to tell if he wants you,” “does cum taste salty.” The front door rattled.
I slammed the laptop shut. Footsteps padded down the hall, too light to be Ma’s. The knob turned. Sakshi stood there, her school skirt riding up her thighs, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “Akki,” she said, her voice small. “Can I come in?”
My dick throbbed. I should’ve said no. Should’ve shoved her out, locked the door, yelled for Baba. But her eyes were wide, pupils blown, and her fingers twisted the hem of her blouse like she was holding herself back from touching me. The scent of her, sweat and strawberry shampoo, filled the room before she even stepped inside. She closed the door behind her, the click too final. Her chest rose too fast under her dress.
“I see,” she whispered, jerking her chin toward my laptop. Her throat worked. “You watch those videos too.” The air thickened. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. She took a step closer, then another, until her knees bumped mine. Her skirt brushed my thighs. “I dream about it,” she breathed. Her hand hovered over my crotch, trembling. “About you, inside me.” My control snapped. I grabbed her waist and yanked her onto the bed.
She gasped as I rolled on top of her, my hips grinding into hers. Her legs parted instinctively, her skirt riding up to expose the damp cotton of her panties. I could smell her, musky and sweet, unmistakable. “Fuck,” I growled against her neck. My fingers dug into her hips. “You’re wet.” She whimpered, arching into me. Her hands fumbled with my shorts, nails scraping my stomach. “I’ve been wet all day,” she admitted, voice cracking. “Thinking about your dick.”
I shoved her panties aside. Her cunt was slick, swollen, her folds glistening. My thumb circled her clit, and she jerked like I’d burned her. “Akki!” I silenced her with my mouth, swallowing her moans. Her taste flooded my senses, salt and heat and something uniquely Sakshi. My cock ached, straining against my shorts. I needed to be inside her, needed it more than air. But not there. Not where I could ruin her.
I flipped her onto her stomach. She whined, but spread her legs wider when I tugged her hips up. Her ass was pale in the dim light, the curve of her cheeks trembling. I spat into my palm and rubbed it over my dick, then pressed the head against her tight hole. She tensed. “Will it?” “Yeah.” I pushed in slowly, watching her back bow. “Breathe.” Her walls clenched around me, scorching hot. I groaned, hips snapping forward. She cried out, fingers twisting in the sheets. “Hurts, ” “It’ll feel good,” I promised, my voice ragged. “Just take it.”
And she did. I felt Sakshi’s body yield, the tight resistance giving way as I buried myself deeper inside her. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her fingers clawing at the sheets beneath her. The heat of her ass enveloped me, slick with spit and desperation. She was trembling, her back arched, her dark hair sticking to her damp neck. I pulled out slightly, then thrust back in, harder this time. A choked sob escaped her lips, but she didn’t tell me to stop.
Instead, she pushed her hips back against mine, taking me deeper. Her body was learning, adapting, already craving more. The wet slap of skin filled the room, mingling with her whimpers and the creak of the bed under our weight. My hands gripped her waist, holding her steady as I fucked her. Her ass clenched around me, each thrust dragging a sharp little noise from her throat. I could feel my release building, tightening low in my gut. “I’m close,” I warned, my voice rough.
She turned her head, her cheek pressed against the mattress, her eyes glassy. “Inside,” she begged. “I want it.” That was all it took. My hips stuttered, and I came deep inside her, pulsing in thick, hot bursts. She shuddered beneath me, her body milking every last drop. For a moment, neither of us moved, just breathing, sticky and spent. Then she twisted, pulling away, her face flushed. She didn’t meet my eyes as she tugged her panties back up, her fingers shaky.
The room smelled like sweat and sex, the air thick with what we’d done. Before I could speak, Sakshi bolted, just like last time. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving me alone with the mess and the weight of it all. I stared at the ceiling, my pulse slowing, my thoughts a tangled wreck. Outside, the ceiling fan groaned on, useless against the heat.
