Two big sisters

Preeti's fingers traced lazy circles on my bare shoulder as Swaty nuzzled against my neck, her breath warm. "Happy birthday, baby brother," she murmured, her voice thick with sleep. The morning sun streamed through our shared bedroom window, highlighting dust motes dancing in the air. Both sisters had crawled into my bed hours ago, claiming it was tradition for my eighteenth birthday. Their limbs tangled with mine—a familiar, comforting weight I'd known since childhood, yet different now. Sharper.

"You're not a little boy anymore, huh?" Preeti chuckled low in her throat, her palm sliding down my chest. Her thumb brushed my nipple, making me jerk involuntarily. "Look at these muscles."

Swaty nipped lightly at my earlobe. "Eighteen," she breathed, her hand slipping under the waistband of my boxers. "Legal." Her fingers closed around me, hot and sudden. I gasped, hips bucking off the mattress.

"Easy, Abi," Preeti murmured, pinning my shoulder back down. Her other hand slid lower, tracing the ridges of my abdomen. "We've waited so long for you to be ready." Her eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, locked onto mine. "Remember how you used to hide behind us? Now look at you." Her palm pressed flat against my stomach, pushing me deeper into the mattress. "Solid."

Swaty’s fingers tightened around me, stroking slowly. "Always knew you’d fill out nice," she whispered against my neck, her tongue flicking my pulse point. "But god, feeling you like this...?" Her breath hitched. "Better than I dreamed." Her thumb circled the head, slick with pre-come. My hips jerked again, helplessly. "Swaty see our little brother's little brother is up?" Preeti laughed softly, her own hand sliding lower, tracing the waistband of my boxers. "Ahh Didi let me sleep more," I mumbled, half-hearted, my voice rough. A lie. Every nerve screamed for more.

Preeti’s nails scraped lightly down my stomach, stopping just below my navel. "Sleep?" She hooked her fingers into the elastic, peeling the fabric down inch by torturous inch. Cool air hit my exposed skin. "What Didi it's cold, what you want exactly.. let me sleep na..." I breathed, the protest weak even to my own ears. My hips lifted instinctively, seeking Swaty’s grip. Her laugh vibrated against my throat. "Ok suck my nipples and then you can sleep for 30 minutes more, mom and dad are busy with decoration downstairs," she teased, she took my hand to her boobs. My finger touching her erect nipples. I gasped.

Swaty’s thumb pressed hard against the leaking slit, smearing wetness in slow circles. "Feel how awake you are?" Her whisper was molten. Preeti’s hand joined hers, fingers interlacing around my shaft, squeezing in unison. The dual pressure—Swaty’s tight grip at the base, Preeti’s thumb working the head—drew a ragged groan from me. My spine arched, pushing deeper into their hands. "Didi... please..." The plea slipped out, raw and desperate.

"Shh, Abi," Swaty murmured, her breath hot on my jaw. "We’ll take care of you." Her free hand tugged impatiently at the thin strap of her nightdress. The fabric slid off her shoulder, baring smooth brown skin. With a sharp, fluid motion, she wrenched the neckline sideways. Her right breast sprang free—full, heavy, the nipple dark and stiff. Before I could gasp, her palm cradled the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair. She shoved her chest down down. Hard. My mouth opened on instinct, and she filled it. The sudden weight, the salt-sweet taste of her skin, the tight nub scraping my tongue—I choked, nostrils flaring for air as she ground herself against my face. "Suck," she commanded, voice trembling. "Like you mean it."

Preeti’s laugh was a low hum against my hipbone. Her fingers tightened around the base of my cock, squeezing almost painfully as Swaty rode my mouth. "Our little brother’s learning fast," she purred. Her other hand slid lower, nails dragging lightly over my balls before pressing firmly against the tight furl of muscle behind them. I jerked violently, a muffled cry lost against Swaty’s flesh. Preeti’s fingertip circled, insistent. "Your sister will teach you about blowjob today," she whispered, her breath hot on my thigh. "Or just like this?" Her fingertip pressed inward, just a fraction. My thighs clamped around her wrist instinctively. Swaty moaned above me, grinding harder against my tongue. "Ummm preeti didi he is sucking really good. Mmm"

Swaty suddenly pulled back, her nipple popping wetly from my lips. Her chest heaved, eyes glazed. "Enough teasing," she breathed, shoving Preeti’s probing hand away. "My turn." In one fluid motion, she straddled my hips, the thin cotton of her nightdress bunching around her waist. Her bare thighs gripped my sides, hot and trembling. She reached behind her, fingers wrapping around my cock, guiding it upward. The slick head bumped against soft, wet heat. She paused, her gaze locking onto mine—dark, hungry, terrifying. "Ready, Abi?" she whispered, voice thick. "Tell Didi you want it." Her hips sank down slowly, agonizingly, enveloping me in tight, molten velvet. I gasped, arching off the bed, fingers digging into her hips. "Swaty Didi—yes—" The words tore from my throat, ragged and raw.

Preeti watched, her breath catching. She traced Swaty’s spine with a possessive fingertip. "Look at him," she murmured, her voice husky. "Our little brother’s gone quiet." Her hand slid around Swaty’s waist, fingers finding the swollen nub between Swaty’s legs. Swaty cried out, her body clenching around me as Preeti circled firmly. "He’s not little anymore," Swaty gasped, rolling her hips in slow, deep grinds. Her inner muscles pulsed rhythmically, milking me. "Feel how deep he fills me, Preeti?" Her eyes fluttered shut. "God—he’s—"

Preeti leaned forward, "Does this feel better than dad's penis?" she whispered against Swaty's ear, her fingers still working Swaty's clit in tight circles. Swaty threw her head back with a gasp, her thighs clamping around my hips as she rode me harder, faster. "I haven't had sex with dad ahh. Only u did," she moaned, her voice breaking. The wet slap of skin filled the room, mingling with their ragged breaths. I gripped Swaty's waist, thrusting upward instinctively—each plunge deeper, hotter. Her inner walls clenched like a fist around me. "Abi—oh god—yes!" Her nails scored my chest as she shuddered.

Preeti's hand slid down, joining mine on Swaty's hip. Her thumb pressed into the small of Swaty's back, forcing her down harder onto me. "Make him come inside you," Preeti commanded, her voice rough. "Claim him." Swaty whimpered, grinding in desperate circles, her breasts swaying. The pressure coiled low in my gut—tight, urgent. "Didi, I'm—" I choked out, but Swaty cut me off with a searing kiss, her tongue plunging into my mouth. Her hips pistoned faster, milking me.

Suddenly, Preeti shoved Swaty sideways. "My turn," she growled, yanking Swaty off me with a wet pop. Cool air hit my slick skin. Before I could protest, Preeti straddled my hips, her own wetness dripping onto my stomach. She didn't guide me—she slammed down, taking me whole in one brutal thrust. I cried out, back arching off the mattress. "Ahhhh this isnbigger and thicker then i have imagined," she gasped, her eyes wide and wild. Her inner walls clenched violently, pulsing around me like a heartbeat gone frantic. "Fuck, Abi... you feel—" Her words dissolved into a groan as she began to ride me, hard and fast, her hips pistoning. Sweat slicked her brow, her breasts bouncing with each jarring impact under v necked tshirt.

"Preeti Di, Is his bigger than dad's?" Swaty gasped, collapsing onto the pillows beside us, her fingers already sliding between her own thighs. Preeti didn't answer—her eyes rolled back as she slammed down again, her body swallowing me whole. Her hips snapped in a frantic, punishing rhythm, her nails digging crescent moons into my chest. "Shut up... just... *fuck*..." she choked out, her voice raw. Sweat dripped from her collarbone onto my skin, hot and salty. Beneath her thin t-shirt, her breasts bounced wildly with every jarring thrust.

"Didi how did you end up fucking dad?!" I gasped between thrusts, my hips lifting instinctively to meet Preeti's furious rhythm. Sweat plastered her hair to her temples as she rode me, her breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts.

"Shut—*ah*—up!" Preeti snarled, slamming down harder. Her nails raked my chest. "Last summer... Goa... Mom's silk leggings..." Her words fractured into a moan as she ground against me. "Dad came back drunk... thought I was her... He pull the blanket and saw the leggings while i was sleeping...pushed me face-down into the mattress..." Her hips jerked erratically. "Tore them... fucked me raw from behind... kept slurring Mom's name..." She shuddered violently, her inner walls clenching like a fist. "Next morning... Mom saw the ripped leggings on the floor... Dad turned green... Swaty and you were asleep when dad got scoldings... Mom didn't speak to him for a week." A harsh laugh escaped her. "It felt good though... thick... but not like *this*..." Her eyes locked onto mine, fever-bright. "You're... deeper." She slammed down harder, her nails drawing blood.

"Ahh didi i am gonana cum," I gasped, the pressure coiling white-hot at the base of my spine. Preeti's hips snapped down harder, her sweat-slicked skin slapping against mine. "Inside," she demanded, her voice guttural. "Fill me up, Abi." Her inner walls clenched in rhythmic pulses, milking me as her fingernails dug bloody crescents into my chest. I arched off the mattress with a choked cry, spilling deep inside her while she ground her clit against my pelvis, shuddering through her own climax with ragged gasps.

Swaty watched, her fingers working furiously between her legs. "Fuck, look at him," she moaned, her breath hitching as Preeti collapsed onto my chest. "Wah that was a good sex."

I lay there, heart pounding against Preeti's ear, her sweat cooling on my skin. The air smelled of sex and salt. Swaty's eyes were dark pools, fixed on us. "Didi," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "Can I... touch your boobs? Both of you?"

Preeti lifted her head, a slow smile spreading. "Since when do you ask?" She rolled off me, pulling Swaty down beside her. "Come here, little brother." They lay side by side, bare skin gleaming in the morning light. Preeti guided my trembling hand to her breast, still swollen and damp. "Feel how hard they are? That's because of you." Her nipple pebbled under my palm.

Swaty pressed closer, arching into my other hand. "Squeeze harder," she breathed, her breath hot on my neck. "Like you did when you were ten and scared of thunderstorms—only now, make me gasp." Her breast filled my hand, heavy and warm. I kneaded gently, then firmer as she moaned. Her nipple was a tight bud against my palm. "Yes... just like that," she whispered, her hips rocking against my thigh.

Suddenly, a sharp rap echoed from downstairs. "Preeti! Swaty! Abi!" Mom's voice sliced through the haze, too close—probably at the staircase landing. "Get dressed now! Guests are arriving early!"

We froze. Preeti scrambled off me, sticky warmth dripping down my thigh as she yanked her nightdress up. "Shit—the decorations!" she hissed, frantically smoothing the fabric. Swaty rolled away, grabbing her discarded panties from the floor. Her hands shook as she pulled them on. "Abi, *boxers*!" she whispered, tossing mine at my face. The cotton smelled of her musk and sweat.

I fumbled into them, heart hammering against my ribs. Preeti was already at the door, cracking it open just enough to peer down the hall. "Coming, Mom!" she called, her voice unnaturally bright. She turned back, eyes wide. "She’s *on* the stairs."

Swaty shoved my legs into the boxers, her fingers trembling as she yanked the elastic over my hips. Cool air hit the wetness Preeti left behind—a stark contrast to the heat still pulsing low in my belly. Swaty’s own dampness soaked through her thin panties as she pressed against me, hastily pulling her nightdress straight. "Your chest," she breathed, wiping at the thin trails of blood Preeti’s nails had drawn. "Cover it."

Preeti snatched a crumpled t-shirt from the floor and threw it at me. "Now," she hissed, her eyes darting to the door. Footsteps creaked on the stairs—too close. I yanked the shirt on, the fabric sticking to sweat-slicked skin. The scent of sex clung thick in the air, unmistakable. Swaty grabbed a pillow and hurled it toward the open window. "Air it out," she whispered frantically.

As we stumbled into the hallway, Mom stood halfway up the stairs, arms crossed. Her gaze swept over us—Preeti’s flushed cheeks, Swaty’s tangled hair, the way my shirt clung awkwardly. "Took you long enough," she said, her voice sharp. "The marigold garlands need hanging on the porch pillars. Now." She turned, expecting us to follow.

I fell into step beside Preeti as we descended, my voice a low murmur only she could hear. "Didi... will you be okay? You didn’t wash down there. My cum’s still inside you."

Preeti’s elbow jabbed my ribs—sharp and quick—but her lips barely moved. "Shut your mouth," she hissed under her breath. Then, softer, almost amused: "Don’t worry. It’s a safe day." She adjusted her skirt, the fabric whispering against her thighs. "And my panties are already soaked through." A pause, her eyes flicking sideways, dark with disbelief. "*How* the fuck did you make so much?"

I swallowed hard, the words sticking in my throat. Ahead of us, Mom’s sandals clicked impatiently against the marble floor. Swaty walked on Preeti’s other side, her knuckles brushing mine—a fleeting, electric touch. She didn’t look at me, but the corner of her mouth twitched. *Safe day*. The phrase echoed in my head, hollow and strange. I could still feel the slick heat of Preeti around me, the way she’d clenched as I spilled inside her. My skin prickled under the thin cotton of my shirt, the scratches on my chest stinging with every step. The air downstairs smelled of marigolds and frying spices, a sharp contrast to the salt-and-musk scent clinging to us.

The day blurred into garlands and greetings. Relatives pinched my cheeks, commenting on how I’d "filled out," while Preeti and Swaty moved like shadows—smiling, serving sweets, their eyes avoiding mine. Every brush of Swaty’s arm against my back as she passed me a tray of ladoos, every time Preeti’s fingers lingered too long handing me a glass of sherbet, sent a jolt through me. I watched Preeti bend to adjust a fallen flower arrangement, the damp spot on the back of her skirt darkening the fabric. Swaty caught me staring and smirked, her tongue darting out to wet her lips before she turned away.

During lunch, Dad clapped my shoulder. "Eighteen! A man now," he boomed, ladling more chicken curry onto my plate. His eyes flicked to Preeti, sharp and uneasy. She froze, spoon hovering over the dal. "You girls look tired," he added, too casually. "Late night?" Swaty choked on her water. Preeti’s knuckles whitened around her spoon. "Decorating, Papa," she said smoothly. "Abi kept dropping the fairy lights." Dad nodded, but his gaze lingered on the fresh scratches visible beneath my collar.

Later, stringing garlands on the porch, Swaty pressed close under the pretense of untangling jasmine strands. Her breath warmed my ear. "Preeti’s leaking," she whispered, her hip nudging mine. "Every time she bends… sticky thighs." She giggled, low and throaty. "Bet she’s clenching to keep it in." Across the porch, Preeti stretched to hang a marigold chain, her skirt riding up. The damp patch was unmistakable. She caught us staring and flushed, quickly smoothing her skirt. Her eyes met mine—dark, defiant—before she turned away.