Nupur is Vishal's sister in law. young, spinster. short, voluptuous. Vishal has gone to her city for some work. as gets late stays with her in her flat. after dinner they talk casually. Nupur is virgin. one thing leads to another. short kiss, smooch, lots of foreplay. and they have a steamy sex session.

Chapter 16: Claiming the Forbidden Hole

The cold mud sucked at my knees, gritty and sharp against my skin. One moment the world was Vishal’s heavy cock stretching my virgin cunt, the next the forest floor slammed into my palms, the air punched from my lungs. Arrey baap re! What the fuck?

“Vishal!” I gasped, mud splattering my cheek. His hand was rough, shoving my saree higher, bunching the wet silk around my waist. The chill air bit my exposed ass.

“Shut up,” he grunted, his voice thick, unrecognizable. Not the charming brother-in-law, not the weary traveler. Something feral. His fingers dug into the flesh of my hips, spreading me wide. “Always fucking looking at me like that, Nupur. Like you want it. Now take it.”

I felt the blunt, insistent pressure there. Not where he’d just been. Not my aching, wet cunt. Lower. Much lower. Terror seized me, cold as the mud. “Nahi! Jijaji, please! Woh nahi! Bas karo!” My voice cracked, high-pitched with panic. I tried to scramble forward, but his grip was iron, pinning me down. My knee slid sideways in the slick muck.

“Bas? Abhi toh shuru kiya hai,” he hissed. The swollen head of his cock pressed hard against my tight, resisting hole. It burned. “Your sister… she knows how to take it. Like a proper wife. Lets me fuck her ass whenever I want. So quiet, so fucking obedient.” He spat the words, each one a lash. “But you… you little whore… you wanted this adventure, didn’t you?”

He pushed. A brutal, tearing shove. I screamed. A raw, animal sound ripped from my throat, echoing slightly in the damp trees. Fire lanced through me. My fingers clawed uselessly at the mud. “AHHH! CHHOD DO! IT HURTS!”

“Hurts?” He laughed, a harsh bark. He didn’t stop pushing. He forced himself in deeper, an inch of impossible, burning thickness invading me. My body clenched violently, trying to reject him, making the pain unbearable. Tears blurred my vision, mixing with the rain or sweat on my face. “Of course it hurts. It’s supposed to hurt a slut who throws herself at her sister’s husband. You think this is what you deserve? A quick fuck in the woods?” He shoved again. Deeper. The stretch was agonizing, a violation that seared my nerves. “Her ass… soft, welcoming… like warm silk.” Another grinding thrust. He was halfway now, a monstrous intrusion. I sobbed, breath hitching, my forehead pressed into the mud. “She knows how to relax. How to please her man. Not scream and fight like a fucking animal.”

He pulled back slightly, the drag sending fresh waves of fiery pain through my core. Then he slammed forward, burying the rest of his cock in one brutal stroke. I convulsed, a choked gasp escaping me. He was in. Fully sheathed in my ass. The pressure was immense, a sickening fullness that stole my breath. The initial sharp agony subsided slightly, replaced by a deep, throbbing ache and a terrifying sense of being split open.

He started to move. Short, punishing thrusts at first, each one jolting my entire body, forcing my knees wider in the sucking mud. “Fuck, so tight,” he groaned, his voice strained. “Tighter than her cunt ever is. But dirty, Nupur. So fucking dirty, taking it up the ass like this.” His hips snapped harder, driving his cock deeper with every slam. The rhythmic slap-slap-slap of his balls against my throbbing clit was obscene, a cruel counterpoint to the deep, internal pounding. “She… she moans for it,” he panted, his breath hot on my neck as he leaned over me, pinning me completely. “Begs me to fuck her asshole. Calls me ‘sir’. You just… take it like the dumb bitch you are.”

The pain was still there, a constant fire, but something else flickered beneath it. A traitorous, shameful pulse of sensation where his body slammed into mine, where his cock stretched me obscenely wide. The filthy words, the degradation, mixed with the raw, physical brutality… it ignited something dark and unwelcome deep in my belly. A choked moan escaped my lips, surprising me. Not just pain anymore. Something thicker. Hotter.

Vishal heard it. “Oh?” His thrusts became longer, smoother, finding a rhythm that scraped against something inside me that made my toes curl in the mud despite myself. He fucked me with deliberate, deep strokes, pulling almost all the way out before plunging back into that tight, clenching heat. “Starting to like it, you little whore? Starting to understand why I need this? Why your boring sister isn’t enough?” He gripped my hips tighter, his fingers leaving bruises I knew would bloom later. “Her pussy gets boring. Predictable. But this…” He slammed hard, making me cry out again, the sound half-pain, half… something else. “This dirty hole… it’s made for fucking like an animal. For taking what you don’t deserve.”

His pace quickened, becoming more frantic. The wet sounds of his cock plunging into my ass filled the small clearing, mingling with his grunts and my ragged, broken breaths. The comparison to my sister, the image of her being used like this by him… it shouldn’t have twisted inside me like it did. Shouldn’t have made the shameful heat flare brighter, competing with the ache. But it did. Arrey Allah, kya ho raha hai mujhe? What’s happening to me? He was destroying me, humiliating me, and my treacherous body was responding.

“Gonna come,” he rasped, his voice tight. “Gonna fill this filthy hole. Mark it deep. So you remember whose cock ruined you.” He drove into me with desperate, shallow jabs. His rhythm shattered. His body tensed like a steel cable behind me. A guttural groan tore from his throat, ripped from his core. “FUCK! Take it! Take every fucking drop!”

I felt it. The hot, pounding throb deep inside my ass as he came. Thick jets of his seed flooding the tight channel he’d forced open. It was a final violation, a claiming. I felt the warmth spread, strangely intimate in its utter defilement. He held himself buried deep, pulsing, his breath ragged gusts against my back.

Then, silence. Just the dripping trees, my own harsh breathing, and the sickening, leaking sensation inside me. The weight on my back lifted. He pulled out quickly, the sudden emptiness almost as shocking as the intrusion. A wet, obscene sound followed. I flinched.

Without a word, I heard him fumbling with his clothes. Zipper. Belt buckle. The soft thud of his shoes in the mud as he stepped back. I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. My body felt shattered. Used. Covered in cold mud and his sweat and the sticky evidence of his release dripping from my ass. My cunt ached, ignored and throbbing with its own confused arousal. Shame washed over me, cold and suffocating, worse than the mud.

All characters are over the age of 18.

“Vishal!” I gasped, mud splattering my cheek. His hand was rough, shoving my saree higher, bunching the wet silk around my waist. The chill air bit my exposed ass.

I felt the blunt, insistent pressure there. Not where he’d just been. Not my aching, wet cunt. Lower. Much lower. Terror seized me, cold as the mud. “Nahi! Vishal, please! Woh nahi! Bas karo!” My voice cracked, high-pitched with panic. I tried to scramble forward, but his grip was iron, pinning me down. My knee slid sideways in the slick muck.

A rough hand grabbed my shoulder, flipping me onto my back. Mud squelched beneath me. Vishal loomed over me, his pants undone again, his cock already thick and hard, glistening obscenely in the dim light. Mine. Her sister’s. My release. His eyes were dark pits, devoid of anything recognizable. "Round two," he growled, the words thick with menace. "You think one hole's enough? You filthy little rand."

"No!" The protest tore from my raw throat, weak and useless. "Vishal, please... it hurts... I can't..." My ass burned, a raw, torn ache radiating deep inside. The thought of him forcing himself there again... bile rose in my throat.

He ignored me. His knee shoved brutally between my thighs, forcing them apart despite my feeble resistance. Mud coated my legs, my belly, my breasts where my blouse gaped open. He looked down at me, sprawled and broken in the filth. "Look at you," he sneered. "Covered in shit and my cum. Perfect." His hand wrapped around his cock, slicking it with the mess leaking from my asshole. He rubbed the swollen head against my lower lips, already swollen and sensitive from neglect. "This cunt's been begging for it since I shoved my cock up your ass. Wet little slut."

He wasn't gentle. He didn't ease in. He gripped my hips, fingers digging into the fresh bruises, and slammed forward. Hard. My cry was strangled, swallowed by the dense forest air. He filled me instantly, stretching my aching cunt wide, a different kind of violation after the brutal anal assault. It was too much, too fast. "Fuck!" he groaned, his head thrown back. "Still tight... fuck... like a virgin again." He began to thrust, deep and punishing strokes that rocked my entire body in the mud. "Her cunt... looser... after the kid... but yours..." He slammed down, grinding his pelvis against my clit. "...yours is fucking perfect."

The conflicting sensations were overwhelming. The deep, rhythmic pounding in my core, the sharp, residual agony radiating from my asshole, the rough scrape of mud against my skin, the cold air on my exposed flesh. His cock dragged against sensitized walls, hitting spots that sent unwanted sparks through the haze of pain and degradation. "Feel that?" he grunted, leaning over me, his breath hot and sour on my face. His thumb found my clit, rubbing hard, almost cruel circles. "Feel how wet you are? Taking my cock like a cheap whore after I just fucked your ass raw?" His thumb pressed harder, sending a jolt of sharp pleasure-pain through me. "Say it. Say you love it."

I shook my head, tears leaking anew. "Nahi..." The word was a whisper.

"SAY IT!" His thrusts became brutal, jackhammering into me, the wet slap of flesh echoing louder than before. Mud splattered up my sides. He pinched my clit hard. A shocked gasp ripped from me, followed instantly by a traitorous moan as the sharp pain ignited a deeper, hotter wave. "Say you fucking love your brother-in-law's cock wrecking both your holes!"

The words choked me. Shame burned hotter than any physical pain. But my body betrayed me utterly. The relentless friction, the pressure on my clit, the sheer overwhelming force of him... it coiled tight, undeniable. "Ahhh... Vishal..." It wasn't assent. It was surrender.

"Louder!" He slammed into me, hitting my cervix, making me cry out. His thumb worked my clit furiously. "Tell me you're a filthy slut who loves getting fucked in the mud!"

The coil snapped. Pleasure detonated, white-hot and terrifying, tearing through the pain and shame. My back arched violently off the ground, a ragged scream tearing from my throat as my cunt clenched around his invading cock in uncontrollable spasms. "FUCK! YES! AH GOD!" The words were ripped from me, meaningless, primal. Wave after wave crashed over me, leaving me trembling, gasping, utterly broken.

He roared above me, his rhythm faltering. His cock swelled impossibly thicker inside me. "Take it! Take my fucking cum, you dirty bitch!" He buried himself to the hilt, grinding deep as his release pulsed hot and thick into my convulsing core. His hips jerked erratically, emptying himself with guttural groans. He collapsed forward, his weight crushing me deeper into the mud, his face buried in the crook of my neck, his breath hot and ragged.

I had loved it. Wanted to say thanks to my dear Jiju.

His weight crushed weight pinned me deep in the mud's cold embrace, his damp shirt plastered to my cheek, his breath rasping from him against my ear like it smelled of sweat and pine needles rotting underfoot and sex.

The warmth of his cum was already turning clammy inside my used cunt a sickly feeling.

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Vishal’s deadweight crushed me into the mud, his damp shirt rough against my cheek, his breath hot and sour in my ear. I lay trapped, the forest’s chill seeping into my bones. Cum leaked from my ravaged cunt, warm at first but now cold and sticky, mingling with the mud plastered to my skin.

He shifted abruptly, rolling off me with a grunt. "Fuck," he muttered, wiping his hands on his ruined trousers. His cock, still half-hard and glistening with my fluids, swung heavily as he stood. I stared up through the tangled branches, rain dripping onto my forehead, my body a map of bruises and filth.

"Get up." His voice was flat, devoid of the fury from minutes ago. Commanding. Distant. Like he was ordering a servant. "We’re miles from the car, and this storm isn’t done."

I tried. My limbs trembled, raw from being pinned, spread, fucked. Mud sucked at my elbows as I pushed myself up. My ass screamed—a deep, shredded ache from where he’d forced himself first. Between my thighs, my cunt throbbed, swollen and tender. Every movement made his seed trickle down my inner thigh. "I... I can’t—"

"Don’t fucking whine." He yanked his zipper up, not looking at me. "You begged for it by existing, Nupur. Wearing those fucking sarees, smiling like some innocent." He kicked my crumpled blouse toward me, soaked and streaked with dirt. "Cover yourself. Now."

I fumbled with the wet silk, fingers numb. The fabric clung, cold and slimy. My nipples hardened against it, sensitive from his biting, a brutal echo of pleasure. Shame burned through me. How could my body still react? I kept seeing his face when he came—that raw, possessive snarl. "Take every fucking drop."

He grabbed my arm, hauling me upright. Pain shot through my hip where his fingers dug. "Walk." He didn’t wait, dragging me toward the shadowed trail. My bare feet slipped on roots and slick leaves. Thunder rumbled, closer now. The air smelled of ozone and sex.

We stumbled into a narrower path, thorns snagging my saree. He stopped suddenly, shoving me against a massive oak. Bark scraped my back. "You made a mess of me," he hissed. His eyes were dark, unreadable. One hand pinned my shoulder; the other slid between my legs, fingers probing the sopping silk. "Still wet? Even after taking it twice?" He laughed, low and cruel. "My perfect little rand."

His fingers pushed inside my cunt, rough and unforgiving. I gasped, arching as he curled them, scraping over that spot—that fucking spot he’d hammered earlier. Pleasure-pain spiked, sharp and electric. "Vishal, nahi—"

"Shut it." He added a second finger, stretching me, his thumb grinding my clit. "Feel that? Your cunt’s sucking me back in. Starving for it." He leaned close, his breath hot. "Tell me you want my cock again. Tell me, or I leave you here for the jackals."

Tears blurred my vision. The threat coiled in my chest, cold and real. But deeper, lower—a treacherous heat pooled. My hips rocked against his hand, seeking friction. Betraying me. "P-please," I whispered. Not for mercy. For more.

He unzipped his fly, freeing his cock—already thick, angry-red. "Beg properly, bahinchod."

"Fuck me," I choked out, the words ash in my throat. "Please, Jiju. I need it."

He didn’t hesitate. He lifted me, my back scraping bark, and slammed into my cunt with one brutal thrust. I cried out, the stretch burning, but my legs locked around his waist, pulling him deeper. "That’s it," he growled, pistoning hard. "Take it like the cheap slut you are." Each drive battered my cervix, igniting sparks in the ache. His balls slapped my ass, still tender from his first violation. The contrast was filthy. Perfect.

I came undone fast, violently. Screaming into his shoulder as my cunt clenched around him, milking his cock. He followed with a roar, flooding me hot and deep, his hips jerking. We sagged against the tree, gasping. Rain slicked our skin.

Later, as he zipped up again, he didn’t look at me. "Move." He started walking. I staggered after him, dripping, raw, his cum leaking down my legs with every step.

I had loved it. Wanted to say thanks to my dear Jiju. All characters are over the age of 18.