This is a story about innocent lust. It’s a story of becoming a married woman. It’s a story about being the quintessential hot Bhabhi. Bhabhis have always been such a juicy topic in Indian Erotica, that I have read countless variations of it. One of my first introductions to Indian Erotica was through Savita Bhabhi and her lustful escapades with almost every man she met. Fucking your Bhabhi is very Indian, because it’s not a simple act of incest. It’s an expression of lust and desire by a woman, in all its glory.
Perhaps, people growing in a nuclear family, don’t get the excitement of knowing that there’s a young woman, who’s being fucked in the same house, in the next room, likely separated by a thin wall, while you sit your room, stroking your dick, filling in the images, undressing the new bride to the best of your imagination.
Reeti is 19 years old, newly-wed, in a new city, living with a new family, and exposed to the new sensations of being touched by a man. The story about Reeti is not a simply cuckolding story, the driving principle is not the desire to one-up your brother, by fucking his wife, perhaps better than he does. Her husband, Yogesh, is more than decent in bed, with a rock-hard erection and a dick which gets hard often. But Reeti isn’t your every-day 19 yo. She’d been an ambitious girl in a small village, before she got married. A necklace and sindoor weren’t enough to make her ambitions go away. It’s just that those ambitions changed cracking the JEE to getting orgasms that broke her body.
This story is about pushing the boundaries. How much of yourself are you willing to give away to get one more hit of the pleasures of flesh? How much are you willing to risk, just so that you can fell that aching hole inside you filled, to quiver with pleasure, to be oblivious to your surroundings, one more time?
1
Reeti was 19 years old, when she was dressed up in the most beautiful bridal red saree, and married off to a strapping young man, 5 years her senior. The ceremony was grand, 700 people feasted that day, in a small village in east UP. Her brother, Manan, had traveled all the way from Mumbai to make it the wedding of his little sister. It was his trip to the village, after a long time. The siblings barely had the time to talk to each other, but that didn’t matter much, given that she was being married to a guy who lived in Bombay. Reeti was set to spend her young adulthood, and hopefully the rest of her life, in a city, where her brother had found so much more to life and love.
Her mother wanted more make-up on her. There was a layer of foundations, concealers and things which Reeti didn’t know how to pronounce. She was 19, had lived in a village all her life. Her skin was fair and flawless, just like her mother’s. She didn’t need all the things that were being done to her skin on the day of her wedding. But her mother insisted. It was a rite of passage, she’d told her.
Manan was horrified to see her beautiful little sister, doused in so much make-up.
‘Ma, she’s very pretty, she doesn’t need this much make up!’ Those were the first things that Manan had said when he came home on the day of the wedding.
‘Keep quiet Manan. Don’t speak about the things you don’t know anything about,’ his mother had said.
‘I know enough about this. Reeti looks lovely as is. And this saree, and all the gold that she’s wearing, she’s looking like a goddess,’ Manan walked closer to Reeti.
‘Hello bhai,’ Reeti managed to smile through the layers of cake, and between the hands of the beauticians from “the town”. ‘You came alone. No friend with you?’ Manan smiled quietly.
She looked older than 19, in the heavy red saree. Her flat belly, and the navel were exposed. They had covered her head with ghumta, and her nath was the prominent thing in her small delicate face. Manan put a hand on her head. His little sister was getting married! When he left his village, all those years back for college, and then the job, she was barely 12. She’s grown to be a beautiful girl. He barely knew his sister. They texted now and then, and Manan had mentioned about Ishita a week back. He had no plans of bringing her to a wedding, a wedding in his village nonetheless. It would have drawn attention to him and his “girlfriend”, instead of the most important girl that day – his sister.
‘Yeah, I came alone. I still don’t believe you are getting married!’ he said.
‘And we will get to see each other more than we did in all these years,’ Reeti smiled.
Manan walked away, and then it was just Reeti and the girls around her. They were talking amongst themselves, giggling. Reeti zoned out. The marriage was finalized five months ago. It had been a blur since then. The guy, Yogesh, had a decent job in Bombay. She didn’t know how much he earned. She took her parents’ word that it was decent. Her would be in-laws had a house in Bombay proper, which apparently was a big deal.
She had met Yogesh only once before the wedding day – the day he and his family had traveled to see her in-person. Reeti’s mother had been her fanatic self that day. She’d coached Reeti about everything – how to offer the cups of tea, how to sit, and what not to say. Reeti had seen Yogesh’s photos. He was handsome. In the photos he appeared short, but the ‘bio-data’ said he was 5’11”. He had a broad chest, and thick shoulders. His face was round, but not chubby. The thick framed glasses made him look smart and Reeti assumed that he had to be smart to earn decent money.
In-person, Yogesh was much more impressive. He was indeed taller, especially for Reeti was 2 inches taller than 5 feet. He sat in the middle of the sofa, winged by his parents. He was the only one who said ‘thank you’ when Reeti offered the tea. She looked at him and he looked at her. Their eyes met. It was the first time in her life that she could stare at a boy, with the explicit permission from her parents. And stare she did. He was 24 years old, still a young man. But to the 18 and half year old Reeti, he looked an older man, someone she was nervous to talk with.
‘Maybe we should let the kids talk alone,’ Yogesh’s father announced after his wife whispered something in his ears. He patted his son on the back. Yogesh stood up, straightened his trouser, and looked at Reeti. Reeti’s mother touched her shoulder and smiled at her, gesturing at the balcony. Reeti stood up, adjusted the duppata that she’d been told to cover her head with, and started walking to the balcony.
The balcony was far enough from the parents that they could not hear them, but it didn’t give any privacy of sight. Yogesh and Reeti stood at the balcony, looking out at an un-interesting landscape, quiet for a long. It was Yogesh who spoke first, ‘You’re very pretty’. Reeti had never been told that she was pretty by an opposite gender, except maybe his brother, who called her cute. She went to a school, where boys didn’t talk girls, especially girls from good families, and Reeti was from a good family. Yogesh was the first boy ever, who talked directly to her. She didn’t know how to react to being called pretty. So, she kept quiet. She felt her cheeks getting warm. She at her feet. They were bare. She saw Yogesh’s feet too. They were dark and had tufts of hair on the knuckles of the toes.
‘Do you want to get married?’ Yogesh asked.
‘Yes,’ she answered, as if it was a matter of fact. She was coached by her mother, that of the answer is ‘no’ it will come from her parents not her.
‘But you are just 18,’ Yogesh pocketed his hands, ‘don’t you want to study?’
The truth was, she wanted that. She wanted to go outside of the village. She wanted to go to a college, and have parties with friends, like she saw in the movies. She wanted to walk hand-in-hand with a guy, through the footpath of a city, and then kiss him. She didn’t want her parents to know that she kissed that guy. But she couldn’t have said those things then.
She had said these things, except the kissing a guy part, to Manan. Manan had assured that he would talk to their parents. She didn’t know what was the conversation, but the next day, her mother took her to the nearest photo studio and asked for a photoshoot with colourful backgrounds and stiff poses. And two weeks after that, Yogesh and his family were there to see her. She liked the attention, and had slightly forgotten that she wanted to go to college. She had forgotten that if she got married, she would not be able to go to a pub and dance with her friends from college. She will not be able to meet a guy and go to ‘his place’ like the girls did in the Netflix shows she watched from Manan’s account. She would not be able to wake up in his shirt the next morning. So, when Yogesh asked her, why she wanted to get married so soon, she didn’t have an answer.
‘Can I not study when I’m married?’ she asked instead. When in doubt, answer a question with a question.
‘Yes of course, you can,’ Yogesh answered quickly, ‘there are plenty of colleges in Bombay, and near our home too’ Yogesh looked at his parents, ‘and my parents would love if you study.’
Reeti smiled. They were quiet again. Reeti realized that it was her turn to ask a question, ‘What is it like to live in Mumbai?’
Yogesh smiled, ‘I’ve never lived anywhere else, so I have no reference about what is particularly good or bad about this city. The city can be stressful but a lot of fun too’
‘What kind of fun?’
‘It’s such a large city, with so many people. You can do whatever you want, and nobody will look at you twice. You can be anyone you want to be. You can be anonymous’ Yogesh looked at a distance. It was a bright day.
‘Isn’t that a bad thing? To be unknown. What if you need help?’ Reeti asked. She has known people everywhere she went in the village.
‘I don’t know about that. You will always have me to ask for help. And there’s your brother of course.’
Reeti smiled. It was a comforting thing to hear. She didn’t know the scale of the decision that she was being asked to take. She will move to a new city, live with new people, and be married to someone whom she’d only met. She would be 19 by the time she gets married and steps in to her new home. It wasn’t the most unusual thing that Indian women do, which diminishes the perception of the scale of changes. But these changes are, well, life-changing.
Back in the mandap, she sat cross-legged, with Yogesh beside her. She was hungry and tired. The pandit said a thousand verses, and then, when there was the for the pheras, her legs were numb from sitting that long. It was when Yogesh put sindoor on her forehead, a little of it fell on her nose, she looked into Yogesh’s eyes, and realized that she was to be with this man for a lifetime. He smiled at her, a sweet smile.
After the ceremony, they were to live apart for a night, and next morning, they were to take a train to Delhi and then a flight to Bombay. It would be Reeti’s first flight. She would be flying with her new family. The time when Reeti’s mother said bye to her, Reeti cried. She didn’t understand why she was emotional. Exciting things were about to happen – first flight, first night, but she was sad. Manan would be flying a week later. He had said he’d come to see her once a week, that his office was near her home. But her home was the village. While packing, the only thing she took from her home to the new one she was going were her sketch pens, pencils and her drawing book.
The train journey was anything but quiet. Her mother-in-law sat opposite her and kept getting phone calls. Many of those were video calls. Reeti was asked to wave at the camera. Her wrists were full of bangles. She was still getting used to the clink of the bangles every time she moved. She wore a salwar suit, a red one with lot of glitter. Her palms had the dark drawings of mehendi. In the centre of her palms, was Yogesh’s name.
He had smiled when she’d shown her the name. She was getting fond of his smile. Beside her MIL was the brother-in-law. Prakash had arrived around the same time that Manan did. He was two years younger than Yogesh. Yogesh had hardly spoken about his brother, except that he was closer to Reeti’s age and that they would get along. Whenever their eyes met, Prakash would smile nervously and look away. He was shorter than his brother, but was fitter. He wore half pants in the train. Reeti stole a few glances at his firm thighs, hairy but firm. She remembered the tufts of hair on Yogesh’s toes and wondered if her husband’s thighs were hairy like her devar’s.
The flight was scary. The security check-in was smooth, except for the pat-down by the CISF woman. While walking around in the airport, she invited a lot of stares. It was much too obvious that it was her first time out with her in-laws, and the mehendi and the bangles and the general nervousness were clear indicators that she had married only recently. All through the time she was there in the airport she never left her husband’s side.
In the flight, she got the window seat and watched in awe as she took to the air for the first time. Yogesh and Prakash were talking to each other. Reeti look out of the window till there was nothing interesting to see except the endless blue sky. Her parents-in-laws were sitting in another row of seats. Reeti looked around, and then let her hand rest of her husband’s. Yogesh turned towards her, smiled that smile which she was becoming a fan of. For the rest of the flight, they sat like that. She eventually felt sleepy and fell asleep on her husband’s shoulder. When she woke up, Bombay was 10 minutes away.
Prakash looking at the joining of the hand of his brother and young Bhabhi. Reeti’s hair had come undone. Her bangles clinked distinctly as she tied her hair back. Prakash couldn’t take his eyes off this young girl, who was going to be soon living in the same house as him, sleep in the room next to his. She was beautiful, slender, fair and cute. The way she pushed her chest out while tying her hair, made his dick twitch. If the “seat belt” signs weren’t on, he would have rushed to the washroom and jerked off thinking of Reeti’s pushed out breasts, her neck and the look on her face as she tied her hair. Reeti caught him looking at her. She smiled, she thought that her devar really liked her. He did. He “really” liked her.
She was taken aback by the size of the house in which five people were supposed to live. Reeti was used to live in a two-floor house, with a tall roof and spacious rooms. Her new home instead was small. All the comforts, many of which Reeti had never seen before, but still, small.
Yogesh showed her the flat, which was a very short tour. He rolled their suitcases into a room, which he said would be their bedroom. He told her to unpack and freshen up. Reeti was taking the room in, looking around, observing every little thing. She noticed Yogesh was behind her. He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed his cheeks to hers. She froze. She looked at the door, it was closed, but she wasn’t sure if it was locked.
‘Is the door locked?’ she asked, still stiff.
‘Yes,’ Yogesh buried his face into her neck. She smelled of a faint perfume and airplane air-conditioner. Reeti tilted her head towards him, making his face bury deeper into her neck. She closed her eyes, and let her husband do things to her. That’s when she felt his palms on her chest. Yogesh kneaded her breasts, through her clothes. It was the first time, her breasts were being touched that way. She felt electrified. Yogesh cupped her breasts and kissed her neck.
That’s when there was a knock on the door. Yogesh let her go and shouted, ‘Haan’
He opened the door, it was Prakash. ‘Mom was asking what would you have for lunch?’
‘Anything,’ Yogesh said, irritated. Prakash nodded.
Before leaving, Prakash looked behind his brother. Reeti’s suit was crumpled around her breasts. Since it was her first time, she didn’t have the instincts to adjust her suit after being felt up. Yogesh closed the door. He was yet to see his wife properly.
The entire story is available as a proof-read eBook on my Gumroad. If you liked the this part, consider buying the eBook.
Continue Reading
If you have made it this far, it’s likely that you enjoyed reading the story. There’s plenty more content here. Generating this kind of content takes time and energy. Consider showing your support by making a small donations at my Buy me a Coffee page. There’s plenty of Extra content that you can get there. Please and thank you!