I am Ahmed, 24 years old, living in a big joint family house in North Nazimabad, Karachi. My elder brother Faisal got married three years ago to Sana Bhabhi.
Sana Bhabhi was 28 years old — the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Fair skin, long black hair that reached her waist, big expressive eyes, and a body that made every man in the mohalla turn their heads. She had full, heavy breasts (at least 36D), a slim waist, and wide, juicy hips that swayed hypnotically when she walked in her saree.
From the day she entered our house, I was obsessed with her.
At first it was just stealing glances. Then it became stealing her used saree blouses from the laundry. I would smell them while stroking my cock at night, imagining burying my face between her soft breasts.
One hot June evening in Karachi, the power went out — a common thing during load-shedding. The whole family was sitting in the courtyard trying to catch some breeze. Sana Bhabhi was wearing a thin, light blue cotton saree. Because of the heat, she had removed her petticoat and was only wearing the saree and blouse. The material was sticking to her sweaty body, clearly showing the outline of her bra and the deep curve of her ass.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
Later that night, around 2 AM, I went downstairs to drink water. The kitchen light was on. Sana Bhabhi was there, drinking cold water from the fridge. Her saree pallu had slipped off her shoulder. Her tight blouse was soaked with sweat, making her nipples clearly visible.
She saw me staring.
Instead of covering herself, she smiled softly.
“Garmi bohot hai na, Ahmed?” (It’s very hot, isn’t it?)
I could only nod.
She stepped closer. The scent of her sweat mixed with her perfume was intoxicating.
“You always look at me like this,” she whispered. “Do you like your Bhabhi?”
My heart was pounding. “Yes, Bhabhi… too much.”
She bit her lower lip, then slowly pulled her pallu completely off. Her massive breasts were heaving inside the wet blouse.
“Then come to my room after everyone sleeps,” she said softly, and walked away, her ass swaying.
That night changed everything.
At 3:30 AM, I quietly entered her room. Faisal Bhai was away in Dubai for work. Sana Bhabhi was waiting.
She was sitting on the bed wearing only a black lace bra and matching panty — something I never imagined a conservative Karachi Bhabhi would own.
“Come here, Devar ji,” she said in a husky voice.
I walked to her like a man in a trance. She pulled me into a deep, hungry kiss. Her tongue was wild. I grabbed her heavy breasts and squeezed them hard. She moaned into my mouth.
I unhooked her bra. Her big, soft tits spilled out. Dark brown nipples already hard. I sucked on them like a hungry animal while she stroked my hair.
“Main bohot din se soch rahi thi ke tumhe apna banaun,” she whispered. (I’ve been thinking for a long time about making you mine.)
She pushed me on the bed and took off my shorts. My hard cock sprang out. Sana Bhabhi’s eyes widened.
“Allah… itna bara hai tumhara?” (It’s so big?)
She took me in her mouth immediately — wet, sloppy, and hungry. She sucked me like a whore while looking into my eyes. I couldn’t believe this was my respectable Bhabhi.
After a few minutes she climbed on top of me and guided my cock into her wet pussy. She was incredibly tight and hot.
“Aaahhh… slowly Ahmed… you’re stretching your Bhabhi,” she moaned as she sank down.
Once I was fully inside her, she started riding me like a pornstar. Her big tits bouncing wildly. The sound of her ass slapping against my thighs filled the room.
“Fuck me, Devar… fuck your Bhabhi harder!”
I flipped her over and pounded her in missionary, then doggy style. I pulled her hair and spanked her round ass while fucking her deep. She came twice before I filled her married pussy with my cum.
We fucked three times that night.
From that night, Sana Bhabhi became my personal slut.
Every afternoon when everyone was sleeping or out, she would call me to her room. She started wearing sexier sarees and blouses only for me — deep neck, backless, transparent.
One risky afternoon, while Ammi (mom) was cooking downstairs, Sana Bhabhi made me fuck her in the storeroom. She was bent over sacks of rice, saree pulled up to her waist, while I fucked her hard from behind. She had to bite her dupatta to stop from moaning too loud.
Another time, during heavy rain when the power was out again, she sucked my cock in the TV lounge while the whole family was sitting just ten feet away in the dark.
The most dangerous time was when Faisal Bhai came back from Dubai for two weeks.
Even then, Sana Bhabhi couldn’t stop. She would sneak into my room at night after fucking her husband. She would still have his cum inside her when I fucked her again.
“I like having both brothers’ cum in my pussy,” she whispered one night while riding me.
The ultimate risk came during Eid.
The whole family went to the farmhouse for Eid celebration. Sana Bhabhi said she wasn’t feeling well and stayed back with me.
For three full days, we fucked like rabbits all over the house.
On the terrace under the open sky.
In my parents’ bedroom.
In the kitchen while she was cooking biryani.
On the final night, she wore nothing but her red Eid saree and jewelry. No blouse, no petticoat. She made me fuck her on the same bed where she slept with my brother.
“Cum inside me, Ahmed,” she begged. “I want to get pregnant with your baby, not his.”
I filled her womb again and again that night.
When Faisal Bhai returned, Sana Bhabhi greeted him with a big smile, while my cum was still leaking from her pussy under her saree.
