Color of Sister’s Panties

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“If you can tell the color of my panties…” Madhuri says, looking at brother. “Something may happen now.” His bright eyes sparkle.

The word ‘panties’ kicks Dev. It guides him toward her, inexorably, in deep need of what he says his goldmine in his sister’s womanhood. He is crazy about her panties because he says they cover his juice-well, the source of his life-potion when she wears them. With panties she has baptized him and got his allegiance and protection. In panties they have an interest which is powerful enough to live an entire life together.

Dev’s eyes travel from her breasts to her jeansed crotch. His eyes seem to tear the hard fabric to see what color she has worn today. “And my bra, darling?” Madhuri says, sexily, caressingly. “It matches with my panties.”

Dev looks at her breasts, jutting from inside her bra and white work-shirt; the two buttons on her chest are suffering from their weight. She has good breasts. She is proud of them. Two rich crowns of flesh that always remind her that she is a woman, that she has something between her legs too, something very important to a man, specially to her brother.

It is nice to have Dev here when she undresses after work. After a long weary day at office, scolding five executives of the five departments of her booming software company Ma-Tech, and countless software engineers, it is her time to enjoy with her kid brother in her own private world. Madhuri’s father died of heart-attack in his private jet three months ago while shuttling from Dubai to Chennai, where he made a fortune in last 20 years in software business. Madhuri’s mother left the busy businessman husband for a university professor when Dev was five. 16 years old then, Madhuri raised Dev as a single mother would do her son. Madhuri’s father raised a mistress somewhere in the city. His death has left a legacy she has to deal with.

Dev takes the remote-control and lowers the temperature of the air-conditioner by two degrees. Dev has always been looking for her comfort. Madhuri’s heart fills in tenderness as she feels her perspiration cooling. Her breasts swell in love, exerting extra pressure on the two shirt-buttons. Dev’s eyes are glued to her stiffening nipples, which make their presence felt even from two layers of garments.

“Honey, don’t you like to guess what color is your didi’s panties today?”

Teasing Dev is such a great fun. She has no time for cinema or television. She would have, if she were not this much busy with Dev. What life is better than the one with such a brother who worships your breasts? Madhuri watches the change of color on Dev’s face. The line of his manhood getting clearer against his cotton shorts as she flaunts her sisterly charms. She knows, by instinct, he is suffering. But she wants to be sure. She inquires, “What happened baby? Why are your cheeks dancing? What makes you –?”

“My mouth is watering, didi.”

“What?” Madhuri snaps. “Why your mouth is watering? Am I naked? Aren’t I in most presentable condition to the priest?”

Madhuri feels humidity smoking out of her pussy.

Dev says, “You know they are the most beautiful sight when they are naked. But they are no less beautiful when you are dressed.”

“What they are, Dev, my transgressed brother?”

“Your breasts.”

“You are always gentleman,” Madhuri says. “But sometimes you can speak your mind.”

“If I could I’d give them the most beautiful name. But I’m unable to. No word can express them, didi. There is no word that can express your breasts.”

“More beautiful than Katrina’s, Priyanka’s, Dipika’s.”

“Phoo, didi.” Dev retorts. “These girls? Only Priyanka has some nice titties. Others, Phoo. Besides I don’t buy something that’s in market. That’s for business. They are only for making money, for flaunting, for making unlucky boys masturbate. Something that is so much on display is incapable of giving its possessor any feel of love or romance. I don’t believe they have any feel. I like breasts which are for love, for enjoyment of somebody you care about, you love, you protect.”

Madhuri swallows some sentiment. Her brother is an artist. She has him in companion of love. She feels herself to be the luckiest girl on earth. And something she notices. “Dev Khandelkar,” Madhuri reproaches. “You know some bad words. You have just said ‘tits’. Can’t you call didi’s breasts tits sometimes, only for the sake of being naughty?”

Dev drinks water in his mouth. And he is not ashamed of it. “Is it sweet, baby?” Madhuri asks. “The water in your mouth.”

“Very much.”

“I wish, I could taste,” Madhuri says, regrettably.

Somebody taps on the door. Madhuri opens it. A servant girl leaves two tumblers of pineapple juice and a plate of sandwiches. The servants know Madam and her brother spend the evenings together when Madam returns home.

“It’s important, Devanad Khandelkar,” Madhuri reproaches. “You have to tell the color of your sister’s panties.”

Dev is in her power. casino siteleri She likes Dev squirm under her charms. Dev, the 6 feet tall big boy, is her pet, her cute little brother, her unborn son, her slave, her protector in the vast world.

“What is my prize if I can tell it?” Dev says, childishly.

The literature student rears his intelligent head. Life is dull if your partner is a thickhead, a slob, or a snob. Dev is perfect. Madhuri is a lucky girl. Dev is smart enough to encounter her intelligence. She once regretted his not having chosen software engineering at university. She no longer regrets it. Her brother loves poetry and talks like a poet since his childhood. He does not need to earn money. He is rich enough. She will not be able to hand over the charge of the family business to his hand. But it is not a big deal. He has made her happy. He has made her a husband that she does not have and will never have. He has given her the happiness a woman only dreams and never has.

“What is my prize, didi?” Dev reminds her.

Madhuri did not think of an answer. She is in a quandary. Her palpitation is charged. She looks at Dev’s face. So sweet, so loving, yet so manly. Looking at his big eyes, she wets her lower lip with her tongue — being aware their pinkness and feminineness. She loves to exhibit her carnal need. Her saliva is sweet in her mouth.

“Well, Sir” she says. “Your prize is nothing. You just tell the color of your sister’s panties and expect a prize, darling. You are not a good brother.”

Gloom hangs over Dev’s face, a pretended gloom on her very sexy brother’s face, which melts her to the very core and covers her with many layers of feminine supplication. Madhuri wants to play. She is ready to take him in her arms, let him feel her erect nipples, and kiss her with his so-sweet-boyish lips.

She is aware that Dev’s need is more urgent than hers. But he will not hurry. He has patience. He knows her penchant for loitering, which he calls her art of lingering pleasure. The success of seduction is in pre-empting an orgasm.

“Well, brother,” Madhuri says, giving Dev his juice tumbler, in a manner of serving him. “If you can tell the color of my panties, I will undress for you. I will take off my shirts looking at you. I will then take off my bra. I will give you my bra so that you know what flavor my nipples have today. I will unclip my hair for you, I will show you my armpits, and…and, well, you can even weigh up your didi’s breasts.”

“You are a good sister, didi,” Dev says. “You know what I want. Even if you didn’t tease me like this, only slump on the bed like a lazy pig, I’d still suck on your armpits until your sweet pussy aches for love. I don’t know how other boys of my age live. I can’t live without your love.”

“Or sex?” Madhuri smirks.

“Sex, yes. But not without love.”

In society, in religion, in families, it is described that teasing your brother is sin. But it is the sin for which she receives this adoring gratitude. Madhuri’s eyesight gets blurred with two drops of tears.

Dev jumps off the bed. He holds Madhuri’s face in his palms. Through blurred eyes, Madhuri sees how adoringly he looks at her face, and how protectively he holds her cheeks. Like a loving father, he wipes her tears with his index fingers. Madhuri feels her palms on her cheeks as if they belong to her mighty father — not her kid brother — a loving god. She gives herself to him before he hugs her.

Dev hugs her tightly, not with force, but with love and protection. Her breasts are two bursting glove of sensitive flesh against his chest. She pushes them into him, feeling the flattening thrills; her oversensitive nerves spread ecstasy all over her body. Dev lightly touches her left eye with his lips, warm and soft. She presses and presses her breasts against him, as he sips her tears from her eyes.

“Didi,” Dev whispers on her nose.

His breath is sweet strawberry to her sense. She emerges from a swoon-like happiness.

“You are so beautiful, didi. You have a baby’s face. So tender, so fresh, even when you are from work.”

Madhuri’s friend Minakhshi hanged herself because no man had ever proposed her. Minashkhi had a brother like Dev. If the stupid girl had seduced her brother she would not have needed to hang herself. She would live in her own paradise as Madhuri is doing in hers. Madhuri is unable to control the quivers of her lips. Her lower lip slackens with yearning. Yearning for a kiss; by this god of love and worship, by her little brother. His lips are like hers. Semi-full, drawn to the corners. Hers are completely pink, his have a deeper shade, which makes them manly. He lowers his extra two inches from his solid six feet to reach her feminine mouth. She forces her eyes open, to see the descent of his godlike head, but fails. She receives the touch of his lips on hers with her eyes shut. His lips are velvety soft against her woolly ones.

Life is such a burden to millions outside slot oyna the window. But life is paradise inside Madhuri’s bedroom. He is tasting her lower lip between his. Drawing leisurely, periodically, and sucking softly her feminine moans. Madhuri thrusts her stiffening nipples onto him. Feeling unfurl of soft folds in her womanhood inside her soft-silk panties. He treats her upper lip with the same adoration.

She can hold it no more. She takes his lips with same voracity. She marvels at their resilience. She treats them most sisterly, with deep, loving kisses.

She pushes her tongue between his lips, lingers on his smooth, steely-strong teeth. His mouth is warm. He takes her tongue in. He hangs on it, as if he has found a priceless catch within his reach. He feels for some seconds the entirety of her tongue in a still embrace. Madhuri feels how her tongue charms him. He chews on her tongue with soft smooth bites as if it is delicious chewing-gum. She loves this intimate love and sharing, her tongue being loved inside his brother’s spacious mouth. His saliva on her taste buds is quite satisfying.

She maneuvers on his tongue and draws it out with hers. She wants to reciprocate, to show him she loves him as much as he does her. His tongue is stiffer, stiff with anticipation. Ah, her needy pussy. She needs this loving touch by his tongue against the sleek flesh of her pussy too. She stiffens her tongue harder and dabs on her brother. A number of times. He relaxes. So sweet, so obedient. As confidence builds up, he explores her mouth with his bigger manly tongue. Prodding at the soft flesh at her cheeks.

Her mouth waters fast. He savors every drop. Sucking deeply, as if he is thirsty for a month. She loves it as one of their deepest intimacies. Her limbs become fluid. She lets him pleases himself with her fluidity.

But not for a long time. He has to pay a price of it, with waiting, with patience. Now it is her time to hold his cheeks. She holds them possessively. She loves his wide cheekbones. Her lips are wet with his sucking treatment. She kisses him, letting him feel how wet her lips are.

“Brother dear,” she says, looking hotly into his eyes. “You are yet to tell the color of your sister’s panties.”

He looks innocently at her face. So cute, so handsomely cute. The mother-feel returns to her soul. He is again an innocent young man to her, in need of her love and protection. He sits on the bed. She on the sofa.

“Honey,” Madhuri says, affectionately. “The heaves on your chest are so cute. You really like it when your didi is naughty. But you are not a lecher; remember, you are a poet, a lover.”

“You know, didi,” Dev says, “I don’t believe in love between strangers. I believe in God, because God forbids my sister for me and makes her goddess. I find it is most exhilarating to defy God when my defiance gives me my didi. Imagine I take you against the will of The Omnipotent.”

“Your didi or your didi’s sex?”|

“Both, of course,” he says. “I cannot get her completely unless I get her sex.”

“Does it mean that a boy cannot get his mother completely unless he gets her sex too?”

“Exactly,” he says. “He has to have her sex if he has to have her completely.”

“Do you regret, Devanand Khandelkar, not having a mother?”

“No, I don’t. My didi is more than mother to me.”

“You mean if I were your mother, you would still fuck me?”

“If my mother was half good as you are to me.”

“You are flatterer,” Madhuri says.

“You deserve it, didi.”

“Have you finished Nietzsche?” Madhuri says. “Promise me to start Sartre and Russel next, and I will declare the remaining part of your award for this evening.”

“I promise, didi.”

“You will be India’s foremost philosopher and I will be your mistress.”

“Please, didi.”

The yearning for more tease. Madhuri sighs contentedly. “Listen, the young atheist, since you are an obedient brother, I will take off my slack. If you want, you can comb your favorite garden, warm and soft at the moment, with your fingers before I take of my panties. Or better, you take them off. I’ll sit down in front of you and wrap my panties around your cock, and masturbate you. Will not that be a nice prize, brother? Imagine the soft silk around your cock and your sister’s soft hands holding your cock from across the soft fabric and masturbating you.”

Madhuri is proud of her voice. She can make it as authoritative as it requires to make one of her employees piss in his pants. She can make it as sexy as to have her brother in her power. Dev inhales deeply. His cock is semi-erect. Madhuri is proud of its size.

“Drink a sip, honey,” Madhuri says. “This will be a good evening. But mind to tell the right color of my panties.”

“Are you going to punish me if I fail to tell?” Dev says.

“Yes, I am?” Madhuri says. “I’ll do it to Mahesh. I will masturbate him with my panties. And I will push my nipples into his mouth.”

Mahesh canlı casino siteleri is their servant. He is about Dev’s age.

“Or, I’ll marry the executive at our sales department. He will fuck your didi in this room. You will only listen her moans from outside the door.”

The color on Dev’s face is pink. He is hot for her. She knows well what he is thinking. He is suffering from jealousy and desire. He loves her. He does not believe she will do it. But he is young and insecure.

He needs courage. Madhuri un-tucks her shirt. This is the time. She holds her brother’s hands. She pulls him toward her. Holding his two wrists, he puts his hands on her waist. Maneuvering on his wrists, he pushes his palms on her tummy. Her tummy flaps involuntary. The touch is her brothers. She feels the opening of her pussy-lips. Dev strokes her smooth belly. Madhuri draws him near, by his shoulder, and kisses him. After some sips of the nutritious drink, her mouth is wetter than before. Dev’s lips are velvety. She loves to kiss him. He is boyish soft.

Dev’s hands explore her back and belly. One thumb feels her navel. The feel is electric. Her belly pushes on her back. Dev’s touches are electrifying. It is thousand feels in one touch. His fingers push along her ribs, along the soft cotton of her bra at the side of her jutting breasts. Thanks God, she wears loose shirts. Her brothers loving hands journey through her sides without hardship. Dev caresses the soft flesh below her armpits. He kneads the skin gently, tugging them with all his fingers, feeling the humid weather.

“You like brother?” Madhuri asks, releasing his lips.

Dev strokes the soft flesh on her back, above the bra-strap. And below. Her breasts cry for his touch. He is afraid of touching them. He is a real gentleman. His hands caress her back, her generous back. They make a detour to her belly. Again he presses on her belly-button. Pressing gently, deeply. The touch makes her toes cringe. He is getting connected, pushing through her navel. This feel makes her think of Dev as her son, not brother. The son she would never have. Joining with her. Her maternal feel is deep and weeping. Her pussy gets more vapid as his gentle finger presses deeper into her navel. The feel is intensely sexy. So intimate, so naughty. Madhuri moans. His fingers travel again to the crook below her armpits. Gently, slowly, he strokes the soft flesh. He pushes his fingers, one millimeter a minute, reveling in their silky-slippery texture. Madhuri enjoys this gentle treatment. She feels sleepy. She would sleep by know if she were not standing. Life is good, she thinks. Dev pushes up, making her flinch. He reaches to the tips of her wisps. Dev takes them among his fingers. Pulls them gently. Rolling them, but not giving her any pain. The feel on his face is angelic. Why he loves them so much. “Ahah,” Dev groans. “So soft, so soft.”

“You like, brother?” Madhuri asks.

“Yeaah,” Dev groans.

“What is so special about them, honey,” Madhuri asks, throatily, sexily.

“I don’t know, Didi,” Dev says. “But they seem so sexy, sprouting from your intimate parts. You don’t know how my mouth waters now, to take them in my mouth. I am very bad, Didi. I have all these twisted desires. But all are for you, Didi.”

“Your desires are not twisted,” Madhuri protests. “We are the same. We get pleasure from intimate things, things that people ignore. We are special, honey. Come to Didi and get a kiss.”

Dev brings his mouth near her like the most obedient boy in the world. Madhuri kisses him wetly, taking his face between her palms, holding him like a baby. “Here, in our private world, nothing is forbidden.” She reassures her brother.

He does not need encouragement. He strokes into her flesh in the same rhythm, now downward. His fingers reach her belt on the sides of her spine. He smoothens over the creases created by the tightening of her belt during work. Madhuri drools in anticipation and takes his lower lip deeply between hers and sucks on it. He keeps smoothing her soft skin with his magic touch. Madhuri reaches the front of her belt and unbuckles. She unbuttons her pants and leaves them where they were stuck on her hips. She is only responding to his demanding fingers. He reaches the waistband of her panties and glides his hands over them, over her round ass.

“Smooth and round, aren’t they?” Madhuri says, releasing his lip.

“Yes, very much,” Dev says, “very very much.”

“What are you talking about, you naughty boy?”

“What else? I am talking about my didi’s ass.”

Madhuri chuckles. “I haven’t asked you about my ass. I’m asking about my panties. Aren’t they soft?”

Dev’s palms spread over her panties, over her full hips. He is really trying to feel them, the soft fabric. “Yes,” he says. “The panties are soft, too.”

“You said you could tell their color by touching them. Now it is the time.”

Dev clasps handful of ass flesh from over her panties. The feel is different. The slightly thicker skin makes the difference. She feels how her brother gets different reflection touching her ass.

“You are holding them, as if you possess them, Dev,” Madhuri says. “Don’t be so possessive, you devil.”

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