Uncle Rajiv’s Forbidden Nights with Sneha

I stepped off the train into the warm, dusty air of my childhood town, feeling a rush of nostalgia and excitement. At twenty-one, I had transformed into a woman—confident, graceful, and fiercely curious. My city college life had shaped me, giving me toned curves that were accentuated by my crisp salwar kameezes. My soft, dusky skin shimmered under the sunlight, and my long hair danced across my lower back. But it was my assets that truly turned heads; my breasts were full and bouncy, my waist narrow, and my ass round and firm. Everyone noticed, and I loved the attention, especially when I dressed in tight t-shirts and jeans.

The family home was a buzz of activity with wedding preparations. Laughter, the aroma of haldi, and non-stop chatter filled every room. But my attention was drawn to one man—Rajiv Uncle, my mother’s youngest brother. He was different from the other uncles; he was tall, lean, with a gym-toned body hidden beneath his casual kurtas. His salt-and-pepper stubble, sharp jawline, and eyes that smiled before his lips did, made him incredibly attractive. He was unmarried, charming, and oh-so-aware of the effect he had on women.

“Sneha beta, you’ve grown up,” he said, hugging me tightly at the door. I felt the firmness of his chest against my own, and a spark ignited within me. I pulled back, looking into his eyes, and I knew he felt it too.

The days blurred into a whirlwind of wedding madness, but the evenings were mine. I made sure to seek him out, to talk to him, to be near him. We would go out on his two-wheeler, and I never missed an opportunity to brush my breasts against his back or hold his shoulders, feeling his solid frame beneath my fingers. We would sit on the terrace under fairy lights, sharing chai or the occasional sneaky drink. Rajiv was always curious about my life in the city, about boys, his eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and something more.

I noticed how his gaze would sometimes dip to my lips when I laughed, or how his hand would linger on my waist when he helped me down the stairs. My dupatta would "accidentally" slip, and once, when I bent to pick something up, I caught him looking. He didn’t apologize, and I loved that about him.

One night, after the mehendi, the house fell into a blissful silence. I tiptoed up to the terrace and found him sitting alone, a small glass of rum in his hand. The moonlight spilled across the floor, casting a silvery glow on his face. I sat beside him, my heart pounding in my chest. My neckline dipped lower than usual, and I made sure he noticed. His eyes flicked to my cleavage, and I felt a thrill of victory.

He poured me a drink, his voice low and husky. “You’re not a kid anymore.”

I swirled the glass slowly, a mischievous smile playing on my lips. “Did you think I was?”

He looked at me then, really looked at me. Not like an uncle, but like a man who appreciated the fullness of my lips, the curve of my waist, the boldness in my eyes. “You’re dangerous,” he murmured.

I leaned in slightly, my breath hot on his ear. “Only if you want me to be.”

There was a pause, a charged silence between us. Then, without warning, his hand brushed my cheek, his thumb tracing my lower lip. I parted my lips slightly, inviting him, and he took the hint. I kissed him first, soft and curious at first, but it quickly turned hungry and impatient. His hands found my waist, pulling me closer, and I gasped against his mouth as his tongue teased mine.

He broke the kiss, panting slightly. “We shouldn’t—”

“I don’t care,” I whispered, untying the strings of my kurti. My skin glowed under the moonlight, smooth and inviting. My breasts rose and fell with each rapid breath, my nipples hard and eager beneath my thin bra.

He kissed down my neck, biting gently, his hands moving across my waist, gripping my hips. I moaned softly, my hands tangled in his hair, urging him on. He scooped me up suddenly, carrying me down to the spare bedroom. The door clicked shut behind us, sealing our secret.

He laid me on the bed, slowly undressing me. His eyes roamed over my body, taking in every curve, every inch of my skin. He kissed me everywhere—my neck, my collarbone, between my breasts. I arched under his touch, my legs parting, inviting him in. His mouth explored lower, his tongue flicking expertly, and I gasped, pulling his hair, my body trembling with pleasure.

I pulled him up, kissing him hard. “Now you,” I whispered.

He stripped quickly, revealing a toned, masculine frame that made my mouth water. I touched him, teasing, my eyes filled with fire. He groaned as I took him in my hand, then in my mouth—slow, wet, deep. He barely held back, lifting me onto his lap.

His fingers found my pussy, dripping and ready. He moved his fingers over my lips, and I moaned, pushing his head down there. He started kissing and licking, his tongue circling my clit. I pushed his head tighter, loving the feel of his mouth on me. He rolled his lips over my nipple, sucking and biting gently. I placed his hand on my other breast, arching my back, offering myself to him.

Our tongues mated fiercely, and I widened my legs to accommodate his thick cock. It slid in easily, I was so wet. Our bodies moved in perfect rhythm, skin on skin, sweat mixing, lips locked. Each thrust built a crescendo of moans, our breaths coming in ragged gasps. The room was filled with the sounds of our lovemaking, the slap of skin against skin, the wet sounds of our bodies joining.

“Harder,” I panted, urging him on. “Faster.”

He complied, his hips moving in a frenzied pace, chasing our release. I could feel it building, the coil tightening in my stomach, the tension in my muscles. And then, with a cry, I came undone, my body convulsing around him. He followed soon after, his cock pulsing inside me, filling me with his hot seed.

We lay there after, tangled in sheets, my head on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. I traced patterns on his chest, a contented smile on my lips.

“Still think I’m a kid?” I asked playfully.

He laughed softly, kissing my forehead. “Not even close.”

Morning came with a comfortable silence. We avoided eye contact at breakfast, but our fingers touched under the table, a secret smile passing between us. When he looked at me and smiled, I smiled back, knowing that last night, I wasn’t just babysat. I was wanted, desired, and cherished. And I loved every minute of it.