Neela, my wife Reena’s younger sister, had always been overly fond of me, even before my marriage. Back then, Neela was just eighteen, slim, with a flat chest, long black hair, big eyes, and pink lips that made her look cute but not particularly attractive to me. Reena, two years older at twenty, was wheatish, medium-built, with a slim waist and a round ass that drove me wild. Her boobs were medium, about 34B, but perfect for her frame. I’m Rajesh, thirty, average height, with a seven-inch thick cock that kept Reena satisfied every night. My parents lived in the village, simple farmers, and Reena’s mother, my mother-in-law, was a widow living alone in the city. Neela’s husband, my brother-in-law Vikas, was a government clerk, but weak in bed, as I later found out.

When Neela hit twenty-one, her body transformed. Her boobs grew into full, firm 34D, like ripe mangoes, begging to be touched. Her ass rounded out, and her fair skin glowed. I wanted to grab those boobs, but held back, thinking it was wrong—she was my saali, after all. Yet, the desire burned inside me.