Auntie's House Rules

I wiped the rain off my forehead as I stepped out of the auto-rickshaw, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder. The scent of wet earth filled the air—classic monsoon weather. I stared up at the small two-storey house. Aunt Meena’s house.

It had been years. I barely remembered her, aside from the few family weddings where she stood in the background, graceful, distant.

I rang the bell.

The door opened with a creak.

She stood barefoot, wrapped in a pale cotton saree, her hair tied loosely behind her. Her eyes scanned me up and down, and something in them paused as she noticed how much I’d changed. Her saree clung to her curves, highlighting her slender waist and the soft swell of her hips. I could see the outline of her breasts, full and round, pressing against the fabric.

"Rohan," she said in that calm voice. "You’re early. Come in."

Day 1–3: Her Rules

Aunt Meena wasn’t the cuddly type. The moment I put my bag down, she laid down her rules—no sleeping late, no phone at the dining table, and I had to help with groceries and cleaning.

I nodded. But my eyes were drifting—to how her blouse clung to her frame, how her waist curved when she leaned forward. She caught me once and said sharply,

"Eyes up, Rohan."

I looked away, cheeks burning.

Her husband had died a few years ago, I remembered my mom telling me. Aunt Meena never remarried. Preferred her peace and solitude in this house. She kept everything clean, everything proper.

But I was starting to notice the cracks beneath that calm.

Day 4–6: It Starts

One night, the power went out. The rain was relentless outside. We lit candles, the warm glow painting shadows across the walls. She poured two small glasses of wine.

"You’ve grown up," she said, watching the candlelight dance. "Your mother still treats you like a baby."

"And what about you?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

She smiled faintly. "I’m not sure what to treat you as."

That night, as I turned in, I saw her walking down the hallway in a thin nightgown. The fabric was almost transparent, revealing the contours of her body. Her nipples were hard, pressing against the thin material. The sight made my mouth dry.

I barely slept.

Day 7: The Accident

She asked me to help clean the top kitchen shelves. I climbed the stool and passed down jars, utensils. At one point, she lost balance while handing me a box. I caught her instinctively, one arm around her waist. Her body felt warm and soft against mine. I could feel her heartbeat, steady and calm.

She froze. So did I.

Her face was inches from mine. Her breath hitched. I could see the desire in her eyes, raw and unfiltered.

She stepped back quickly, adjusting her saree. "Careful," she said, but her voice had lost its edge.

Day 8: The Massage

"My shoulders are killing me," she muttered that evening.

"I can help," I said, more boldly than I meant.

She paused. Then sat down on the sofa with her back to me. "Just here. Be gentle."

I poured a little oil and began. My hands trembled at first, but as I moved across her shoulders and down her back, I felt her relax. Her skin was smooth and warm under my touch. I could feel the tension leaving her body, replaced by a soft, inviting warmth.

When my fingers brushed lower, she didn’t move away. In fact, she let out the softest sigh. I let my hands wander, exploring the curves of her body. I could feel her breathing quicken as I traced the small of her back, dipping lower to the top of her buttocks.

She turned her head slightly, eyes half-closed. "This isn’t right. You know that, don’t you?"

"Then tell me to stop," I whispered.

She didn’t.

That Night

The storm outside grew louder. But all I could hear was the beat of my heart.

Her bedroom door was open.

I walked in. She sat on the edge of the bed, in a silky nightgown, her hair let loose. The nightgown was deep red, contrasting beautifully with her dark hair and fair skin. It clung to her body, outlining her breasts and the curve of her hips. I could see the dark triangle between her legs, visible through the thin fabric.

She stood and walked toward me. Her hand touched my chest.

"No talking," she whispered.

I kissed her. Gently at first, then deeper—like I had always wanted to. Like she had always known. Her lips were soft and yielding, her tongue exploring my mouth with a hunger that matched my own. I pulled her closer, my hands roaming over her body, feeling every curve, every inch of her soft skin.

She pushed me gently onto the bed and straddled me, her nightgown riding up to reveal her thighs. I could feel her heat against me, could see the wetness spreading on her nightgown. I reached up and cupped her breasts, feeling their weight in my hands. Her nipples were hard, pressing against the fabric, begging to be touched.

She ground against me, a soft moan escaping her lips. I could feel her wetness soaking through my pants, could feel the heat of her desire. I flipped her over, pinning her beneath me. I kissed her neck, her collarbone, her breasts, taking my time to explore every inch of her.

I pulled down the straps of her nightgown, exposing her breasts. They were perfect, round and full, with dark nipples that begged to be sucked. I took one in my mouth, swirling my tongue around the sensitive bud. She arched her back, pushing her breast further into my mouth. I could feel her hands in my hair, urging me on.

I moved lower, kissing her stomach, her hips, her thighs. I could smell her arousal, could see the wetness glistening on her inner thighs. I parted her legs, exposing her most intimate place. She was shaved smooth, her lips glistening with desire. I leaned down and took a long lick, tasting her sweetness.

She moaned, her hips bucking against my mouth. I continued to lick and suck, focusing on her clit, feeling it swell and harden under my tongue. I slipped two fingers inside her, curling them to hit that special spot. She cried out, her body tensing as I brought her to the edge of orgasm.

But I didn’t let her fall. I pulled my fingers out and positioned myself at her entrance. I looked into her eyes, seeing the raw desire reflected back at me. I pushed in slowly, inch by inch, feeling her stretch around me. She was tight and wet, her body welcoming me in.

I started to move, slowly at first, then faster, deeper. Our bodies moved in sync, our breaths coming in ragged gasps. The room was filled with the sound of our lovemaking, the slap of skin against skin, the wet sounds of our bodies joining.

She wrapped her legs around me, urging me deeper. I could feel her muscles clenching around me, could feel her body tensing as she neared her climax. I reached between us and rubbed her clit, feeling it pulse under my fingers.

She came with a cry, her body convulsing around me. The sight and feel of her orgasm pushed me over the edge. I came with a groan, spilling myself inside her.

We lay there, our bodies entwined, our breaths slowly returning to normal. The storm outside had passed, leaving behind a calm and quiet night. I pulled her close, feeling her heart beat against my chest. I knew this was just the beginning.