The love of a sister – Part 1

It was that day of the year to which I looked forward most eagerly—Bhai Phonta. The day all sisters in Bengal pray for their brother’s long life, treat them to various delicacies, and get gifted by their brothers.

I had put on the traditional Bengali saree. I was ready with all ingredients and my little brother’s favourite dishes. In no other culture in the world the love between brother and sister is celebrated this way.

It is said once Yama- the god of death – visited his sister’s house. Pleased with the delicacies announced that this day will be celebrated as Bhai Phonta. Being five years older than my brother, I had always been fiercely protective of him. I awaited his arrival eagerly.

Oh I am Hritika, 29 years old, working in a giant publishing house in New Delhi. My brother, Hritwik, named aptly after me, is 24 and working in a top software firm as a computer engineer.

However, our parents fondly call us Hrika and Hrik. The H before R is due to a special Bengali alphabet, ‘Ree,’ generally used to write words like Rishi(sage) and Ritu (Season).

Finally, the doorbell rang. I rushed to greet my sweet little brother. Though I keep saying little, he is far from that – 6 feet 2 inches tall, extremely handsome and with a well-worked-out body.

In comparison, I am five feet 3 inches, with a well-maintained body, whose specifications will be unravelled in the course of events. We hugged affectionately.

“You made it, bhai. I was wondering whether your office would grant you leave.”

“I never miss Bhai Phonta, didi. Wow, you look great in this saree.”

The sisterly naughtiness aroused within me. “It won’t suffice by mere compliments on this didi. I hope you got a suitable gift for your boro didi (elder sister).”

“Can I ever forget a gift for you? Give me my Phonta (Tilak on forehead) first.”
I took him to the room stocked with a platter of flowers, sweets, payesh (Khir made out of special rice –gobind bhog- and milk), luchi (puri), lighted brass lamp, incense sticks and a brass bowl of Chandan (sandalwood) paste.

We sat down, and I rotated the brass lamp around his ravishingly handsome face. I dipped my ring finger in the chandan paste and, holding it on his forehead, uttered the customary wishes.

“Yamuna dilo Yamke phonta. Ami dlam bhaike phonta. Yamer duare porlo kanta.” Roughly translated, “ I anoint my brother’s forehead with Tilak like Yamuna did to Yama. Hence no peril will ever fall on my brother.” I fed him payesh with a spoon and stood up with the naughty sister’s attitude.

“Now, little brother, it’s time to touch my feet and seek blessings from the elder sister.”

Most younger brothers feel reluctant to touch their elder sister’s feet, especially if other family members are looking around. But Hrik readily bowed down to touch my feet, and I blessed him from the deepest corners of my heart.

He smacked his lips and announced, “No one makes better payesh than my didi. Let’s break our fast.” Till the phonta is applied, both brother and sister maintain fast. He had taken the earliest flight to reduce the fasting duration. We took the sumptuous items to the dining table and relished the spread.

“Di, I hope lunch will be as good as the breakfast.”

“Your favourite mutton biryani will go on dum.”

“Really, di, you make every Bhai Phonta so memorable.”

He washed his hands, rinsed, and delved into his bag. He whisked out a package wrapped most exquisitely. “To the greatest Didi in the universe” written on it. I unwrapped it carefully and gasped as it was an iPhone of the latest make.

“Oh, bhai, you shouldn’t have spent so much on your didi.” Tears welled up in my eyes.

“Didi, I can give everything for you, and you deserve nothing less than the best. Now I want my real Phonta.”

I blushed like a teenager and spoke coyly, “ Of course, bhai, without that, our Bhai Phonta will remain incomplete.”

I picked up the chandan paste bowl and made our way towards the bedroom door, which he shut firmly. The moment I put the bowl on the side table, he engulfed me in his strong arms.

He sighed, “Oh, didi. I miss you so much. Wish I could be with you every day and night. You look so gorgeous – it’s been months since I tasted your lips.”

He planted his lips over mine, fed on them for a few seconds, and, parting, my lips sucked in my tongue. I responded by grabbing him tighter than ever before. We kissed and sucked on each other’s tongues with tremendous passion.

“Oh, didi, no lips feel sweeter and hotter than yours. Di, your tongue is the sweetest in the world.”

“Oh, bhai, no man kisses better than you,” I replied and sucked in his tongue and fed on it.

We found ourselves on the bed, intermittently rolling over each other and kissing and feeding on each other’s mouths. His hands were also running over my back and blouse-clad boobs fervently. I, too, was fondling his balls and hard cock over his trousers, and he gauged my intentions.

“Di, you must be yearning to see my cock.”

“Yes, bhai, yes.”

He stood up on the bed and unbuckled his belt. I knelt at his feet. With anxious hands, I pulled down his trousers and Jockey bikini brief swiftly to unravel his cock. Ah, what a glorious cock my brother has.

Eight inches of man meat, a girth of two and a half inches, shining skin – attractive enough to make any girl swoon over it. I couldn’t help grabbing it with my palms and savouring the manly warmth.

“Oh, didi,’ he groaned in pleasure, “it feels so good in your hands.”

Dear readers must be wondering what’s going on. This is how we have celebrated ‘Bhai Phonta’ for the last eight years. It’s a rather complicated story of how things unfolded between us. I will describe that later. Till then, enjoy the present scenario.

Actually, the first time we had sex was a day before Bhai Phonta. On the next day, in a mischievous mood, we made these innovations. I have been keeping the tradition alive since then. Our first Bhai Phonta post-sex was mind-blowing, with non-stop passionate sex throughout the day and night.

I will come to that later. It filled me with satisfaction to watch the expressions of pure pleasure on his face as I stroked him, and then I recollected the ritual.

“Oh, I almost forgot your Phonta.”

I picked up the chandan paste bowl. I immersed my fingers in it and applied a generous amount of paste on the tip of the dick head.

“Ah didi,” he moaned, “Now for the didi Phonta.”

He moved his raging boner towards my face and applied the paste on my forehead. M whole body, right from the roots of my hair to the toes, shivered at the touch of his cock. I took it and peeled down the foreskin to reveal the glowing glans.

It looked so delicious that saliva welled up in the back of my lower tongue, just like at the mention of golgappa. I pressed my juicy lips on his cock and planted a loving, affectionate kiss. He trembled at the touch of my lips.  “Ahhh, didi, your lips feel like heaven.”

I opened my mouth and put out my tongue. I licked his eight-inch length from the base to the tip, with extra pressure on the thick veins. He shrieked ecstatically, “Ahh, didi, no one can lick cock better than you.”

I licked the tasty shaft for a minute savouring his moans of ecstasy. I refrained from gulping him down my mouth as he preferred it later. We had fucked so many times that we knew each other’s requirements. Expectedly he pulled me up and kissed me passionately.

Looking deeply into my eyes, he said, “ Di, I want to see you now.”

“Didi will never disappoint you, bhai.” I removed the saree and stood in my red blouse and black petticoat. He knelt, sunk his mouth in my abdomen, kissing around the navel, licking in bursts. It sent tingling sensations throughout my body.

He pulled me down, gently laying me on my back. He removed his white shirt revealing his sexy, worked-out body. His body was a rage among the girls when he first moved in with me for college.

The immense popularity among his female classmates and girls in our society was one of the reasons that drew us together. We’ll come to that later.

He promptly unbuttoned the hooks of my blouse with nimble fingers. I was thrilled to see the admiration in his eyes as he gazed upon my lacy bra-laden boobs. He slid his left hand under my back, and on numerous occasions. He undid the bra hooks in one flick of his fingers.

I felt proud that I had taught my little brother well. Fortunately or unfortunately, he never tried this on any other girl and repeated it with me. I had implored him many times to get married, have kids and provide me with nieces and nephews to pamper. But he emphasized no other woman can be as good as me.

He, too, though with reluctance and jealousy, suggested I get married. But I had replied that he was the only man for me. The moment he unhooked my bra, my 36D boobs sprang out from the unnecessary confines like an imprisoned lion in a cage.

His eyes filled with raw lust and genuine admiration. “Ah, didi, these are the most beautiful boobs in the entire universe.”

“Have them as you like, bhai. They’re all yours.” I invited him in a sexy drawl which he loves a lot. His strong manly palms and fingers sank into my malleable orbs as a hot knife sinks into butter. His eager mouth started gobbling my erect juicy nipples in a frenzied fashion.

He also nibbled the nipples with the gentle, measured movement of his teeth. Like most women, my boobs and nipples are extremely erogenous zones. His manoeuvres made me moan in deep pleasure and made my pussy well up with juice.

“Ah, bhai, your mouth and hands feel so good. Kha kha, pran bhore kha didir dodo.” (Eat your sister’s boobs to your heart’s content).

“Didi jobe theke tor dodo kheyechi ar kono dodo dekhteo ichcha kore na. Mone hoy sara jibon sudhu dodo chtkai ar khai.” (Big sis, I don’t even feel like looking at any other boobs since the day I had yours in my mouth. Feel like squeezing and gobbling them all my life).

“Kha kha kha ar pran hule chotka, toke atkachche ke?” (Eat, eat, squeeze hard, and gobble, who’s stopping you?)

He kept feeding on my boobs and squeezing them rigorously. It induced feverish moans from my mouth and quivers in my cunt canal. I grabbed his head with force on my boobs. He felt my need for more. He got up, undid the knot of my petticoat and pulled it down to reveal my shaven pussy.

The glint of lust and admiration in his eyes filled me with more satisfaction.

“Di, you look so delicious. Got to taste you right now.”

“Who’s holding you back?” I replied in an interrogative manner by parting my legs as widely as I could to reveal my watering pussy.

He growled and delved his mouth into my bowel of bliss. He licked, kissed and sucked my pussy in a lavish manner savouring its fragrance and taste. He expressed his satisfaction with his moans.

“Didi, I can bet my entire fortune that you have the tastiest pussy in the galaxy. Any man can kill just to lick your pussy. I’m the luckiest brother to taste it. Didi, I can eat it for ages.”

“Really, bhai, you eat my pussy rather well. I don’t think any other man will lick as good as you.”

To be honest, I should give the full credit in the pussy eating department to my first boyfriend – Pallab, during my University days. He simply relished eating pussy and knew how to use his tongue. He liked it so much that he wouldn’t fully erect until he tasted a pussy.

He didn’t need his cock to make me cum. He was so good with his mouth and tongue. Likewise, he tutored me on numerous methods of sucking cock. Pleased with my skills, he invented a degree akin to the D Litt for me. He called me an O- Litt- the highest degree in oral administration.

I sometimes wonder how many women might have cum shrieking rapturously over Pallab’s slobbering mouth. He was aptly named ‘Tongue Tornado’ and ‘God’s gift to women’ by many girls. I just taught my little brother the various manoeuvres of Pallab, and he attained his level with diligent practice.

I was highly worked up by my brother’s oral skills. He guessed it from my profusely lubricated pussy. Now it was my turn to lubricate him well for the final plunge. He got up and knelt over my boobs with his protuberance dangling over my cock parched mouth.

I was only glad to gulp it half down my mouth. He threw back his head excitedly and yelped, “Ah, didi, it feels damn good to have my cock inside the hottest mouth of this universe.”

I tucked in my cheeks to enhance the pressure. I moved my head forward to engulf his raging pole down to the base of the cock. His enormous dickhead rested at the back of my throat. Instinctively my throat muscles wriggled around his dickhead to further accentuate his pleasure.

Pallab imparted this skill to me. Now my sweet little brother is the sole recipient of this manoeuvre. Most women fail to try, let alone master it. I started moving my head back and forth, ensuring that his dickhead received the good cuddles of my throat muscles.

“Oh, didi tui janish kivabe bara chuste hoy. Tor golar peshi gulo ki kochlani dichche re amar mudote. Ki barakhor much re tor jeno bara choshar jonnyei tor jonmo hoyechilo. tor choshon kheye purush jibon dhonnyo holo.”

(Oh, big sister, only you know how to suck a cock. Your throat muscles are massaging my dickhead damn well. What a cock sucking mouth you got. As if you’re born to suck cock. Your sucking has made this life worthwhile).

I sucked him for another minute, and he said, “Enough didi lie back and let me take over.” When I rested my head on the pillow, he plunged his cock down my throat. He incessantly mouthfucked me for two minutes, yelling ‘Didi, didi,’ innumerable times with every inward stroke.

Finally, he withdrew his saliva-coated glorious cock and said, “Ah, tor lalay dhonta darun lyatlyate hoyeche, ebar tor dhipi dodo mere khub suh nebo.”

(You’ve lubricated my cock rather well. Now I want to fuck your hilly boobs.)

“Mar mar tor didir dodo chude khub such ne.” ( Fuck your sister’s tits and derive more pleasure). He inserted his cock in the depths of my boobs. I wrapped my palms around them to engulf them. He started with gentle strokes.

I spat out generously to enhance the lubrication so that his speed would increase naturally. Within a minute, he was fucking like a maniac with his heavy balls slapping loudly on the underside of the boobs. To see a man going out of control just by fucking the boobs is a satisfying experience for a woman.

The fact that your boobs can give as much joy as your cunt is a tremendous confidence booster. I am sure women readers will agree that the sensation of a titfuck is immensely enjoyable. He gasped and growled in uncontrollable rapture

“Ore didi re ki jompesh dodo re tor. Dodo mere eto sukh hoy ke janto. Mone hoy ara din tor dodo marte thaki.” (Oh, big sis, what incredible boobs you got. Who knew tit fucking can give so much pleasure. Feel like fucking your tits all day long).

“Ta thik, kintu tor didir ekta gud o ache, setao to marte hobe.” (That’s very fine, but your sister has a cunt too, which needs to be pounded as well.)
I spoke as I yearned for his long, hard, hot cock to pound me into an earth-shattering orgasm.

“Thik bolechsh di, ekhuni bhul sodhrachchi.” (Rightly pointed out, sis, time to make amends.)

He knew instinctively to lie down on his back. His swollen saliva-coated shaft dangled in the air and invited me to shove it down my cunt. Yes, I loved the ride and took control of my orgasm. As my little brother says, “ Nobody rides a cock better than didi.”

Hrika and Hrik will be back.