Chapter 25: Bike and my pussy is ridden
The engine whined beneath us as we sped south, the Goan coastline blurring into a streak of green palms and gold sand on our left. I clung to Vishal’s waist, the borrowed Enfield thrumming between my thighs. The salty wind whipped my hair, plastering my thin sundress against my skin. It was shorter than anything I’d worn around him before, barely covering my ass when sitting, the flimsy cotton clinging shamelessly to my curves. I’d felt his eyes on me all morning – lingering on the swell of my breasts under the low neckline, tracing the outline of my nipples hardened by the breeze. A thrill, dangerous and electric, crackled in the humid air.
"Enjoying the view, Jiju?" I called out over the engine’s roar, tightening my arms around him, pressing my chest firmly against his back. My voice was light, teasing, belying the hammering of my heart.
He glanced back, his sunglasses hiding his eyes but not the quick flicker down to where my breasts pressed against him. "View’s distracting, Nupur. Trying not to drive us into a coconut tree." His tone was gruff, but there was an underlying warmth, an acknowledgement of the tension.
"Let me drive then," I challenged, leaning closer, my lips brushing his ear. "I promise I won't get distracted by your... shoulders." The memory of the cinema, the belt, the brutal claiming in my bedroom flashed hot and shameful behind my eyes, mixing strangely with the current, lighter tension.
He chuckled, a deep rumble I felt against my chest. "Later. This stretch is tricky." But at the next long, deserted stretch of road, he pulled over onto the sandy shoulder, the engine cutting abruptly into the sudden quiet filled with crashing waves and chirping insects. "Your turn, chhoti behen," he said, swinging his leg off. "Try not to kill us." The nickname – ‘little sister’ – felt loaded now, a thin veil.
I took the handlebars, the metal warm from the sun. He settled behind me, his thighs bracketing mine, his chest a solid wall against my back. His hands rested lightly on my hips. "Ready?" I asked, kicking the engine to life. The vibration surged through me.
"Always," he murmured, his hands tightening slightly. As we accelerated, his grip subtly shifted. One hand stayed on my hip, the other drifted higher, resting possessively on my ribcage, just below the swell of my breast. The touch burned through the thin cotton. My breath hitched. I leaned into a curve, feeling his fingers flex, his thumb brushing the sensitive underside of my breast. It wasn't accidental.
"Careful, Jiju," I said, my voice breathier than intended. "Hands on the bike."
His thumb circled deliberately now, grazing my nipple through the fabric. "Bike's fine," he said, his voice low in my ear. "You seem a little tense though. Relax." His other hand slid lower on my hip, fingers splaying towards my inner thigh. The contrast between the beautiful, sun-drenched freedom of the road and this illicit, escalating touch was dizzying. The Goa air, thick with salt and frangipani, seemed charged with lust.
We rode for miles, the tension coiling tighter. His touches grew bolder – a squeeze of my breast, fingers tracing the hem of my shorts where they met my thigh. I leaned back against him, arching subtly into his hands, letting out small sighs drowned by the wind. The memory of his brutality warred with this new, predatory seduction, both terrifying and intoxicating.
Finally, we found it: a crescent of pristine, white sand, hidden behind a rocky outcrop. Secluded. Perfect. The sun hung low, painting the sky in fiery oranges and purples, casting long shadows. We parked the bike and walked towards the water, the silence punctuated only by the waves.
That’s when we saw them. About fifty meters down the beach, half-hidden by a dune: a foreign couple. She was bent over, holding onto a rock, her bikini bottoms around her ankles. He was behind her, pants down, thrusting hard and deep, his hands gripping her hips. Her cries, sharp and wanton, carried faintly on the breeze.
We froze. Vishal’s intake of breath was sharp beside me. My own pulse spiked, a hot flush spreading from my neck down. We watched, mesmerized, as the man slammed into her, his ass clenching with each powerful stroke. The raw, animalistic act unfolded against the idyllic sunset backdrop, a stark, potent display of pure fucking.
"Fuck," Vishal breathed, the word thick with arousal. His gaze was fixed, intense.
"Missing Didi?" I asked, my voice husky, surprising myself with the boldness. I turned to look at him, a teasing smile playing on my lips. "Seeing that... must make you wish you weren't stuck babysitting your boring virgin sister-in-law."
He tore his eyes from the couple, his gaze landing on me, dark and assessing. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. "Boring? Never, Nupur." He took a step closer, the heat radiating off him. "But virgin? Are you sure about that?" His eyes raked over my body, lingering on the tight peaks of my nipples pressing against the sundress. "That body... those sounds you were making on the bike... seems... experienced."
The challenge hung in the air. The distant moans of the woman fueled it. The memory of his cock splitting me open, the belt biting my skin, surged back, mixing with the present danger. My breath came fast. "How would you know?" I retorted, tilting my chin up, meeting his gaze. "Maybe I’m just a fast learner. Or maybe..." I took a deliberate step closer, closing the distance. "...maybe you don't know me as well as you think, Jiju."
His eyes flashed. He reached out, his hand closing firmly around my upper arm, pulling me roughly against him. The sudden contact, the strength in his grip, sent a jolt straight to my core. I could feel the hard ridge of his erection pressing against my belly through his shorts. "Enlighten me," he growled, his voice dropping to a raw whisper. His other hand cupped my face, his thumb brushing my lower lip. "Show me what you know, chhoti behen."
The forbidden endearment, the proximity, the distant soundtrack of sex – it shattered any pretense. I didn't pull away. Instead, I leaned into his touch, my lips parting slightly. The dam broke.
His mouth crashed down on mine, not gentle, not seeking permission, but claiming. It was a kiss of hunger and dominance, his tongue forcing its way past my lips, tangling with mine. The taste of him, salt and something uniquely male, flooded my senses. My hands flew up, not to push him away, but to clutch at the back of his t-shirt, pulling him closer. A low moan escaped me, muffled against his mouth.
He pulled back slightly, breathing hard, his eyes blazing. "Not so innocent, huh?" His hands dropped to my waist, then lower, roughly grasping my ass through the thin dress, squeezing the firm flesh. "Fucking hell, Nupur... this ass..."
Before I could respond, his hands were on the straps of my sundress. He yanked them down my shoulders in one swift motion. The flimsy fabric pooled around my waist, leaving my breasts bare to the warm, fading light and his hungry gaze. The sea breeze pebbled my nipples instantly.
"Jiju!" I gasped, instinctively crossing my arms, a flicker of modesty surfacing despite the heat coursing through me.
Vishal didn’t let me hide. His big hands wrapped around my wrists, pulling my arms away from my bare chest with deliberate, unyielding force. "None of that," he growled, his eyes raking over my exposed breasts, lingering on my stiff, dark nipples. "Look at these fucking tits, Nupur. Been driving me crazy all day in that flimsy rag." His thumbs brushed roughly over my nipples, sending electric jolts straight to my soaked cunt. "See? Already hard. Begging for it. Just like your slutty little cunt must be."
"Jiju, please," I breathed, shivering as the warm breeze caressed my skin, contrasting sharply with the heat of his stare. I arched my back slightly, an involuntary invitation he immediately seized.
"Please what?" he taunted, pinching a nipple hard, twisting it. "Please stop? Or please touch my virgin tits harder?" He leaned down, his breath hot on my skin, and licked a slow, wet stripe across the peak. I gasped, my knees going weak. "Bet they've never had a real man's mouth on them. Bet you touch yourself at night, thinking about this."
I moaned, the sound ripped from me. "You... you don't know..." The denial was weak, drowned by the memory of countless nights spent alone, fantasizing about this forbidden touch.
"Don't I?" His mouth closed over my nipple, sucking hard, his tongue working the tip relentlessly. The sensation was overwhelming – sharp, deep pleasure that had me grabbing his head, my fingers tangling in his hair. He sucked like a man starved, biting down gently, then soothing with his tongue. "Fuck, you taste good," he muttered against my skin, switching to the other breast, giving it the same brutal worship. My sundress hung uselessly around my waist. "How many times did you imagine your Jiju sucking these pretty tits while you fingered your tight little pussy?"
"Too many," I confessed, the words a ragged whisper. His hand slid down my bare stomach, fingers splaying possessively over the thin fabric of my shorts, pressing hard against the heat between my legs. I bucked against his palm.
He pulled his mouth off my breast with a wet pop, leaving the nipple glistening and swollen. "Show me," he demanded, his voice thick. His fingers hooked into the waistband of my shorts. "Take these off. Slowly. Show your Jiju what he's been fantasizing about too." His eyes, dark and predatory, held mine. "The belt made your ass perfect, Nupur. Now I want to see the cunt I'm going to break next."
The raw reference to that violent claiming in my bedroom sent a fresh wave of heat and shame flooding through me. Obediently, trembling, I pushed the sundress the rest of the way down my legs, stepping out of the puddle of fabric. I stood before him on the warm sand in just my tiny lace panties, the damp patch at the front obscenely visible. He made a choked sound, his gaze burning a path down my body.
"Those too," he ordered, nodding at the panties. His own erection strained fiercely against his shorts. "Nice and slow. Make me wait."
My fingers trembled as I hooked my thumbs into the delicate lace sides. I met his gaze, the challenge still sparking inside me despite the wildfire he’d lit. "Why should I?" I whispered, pausing, letting my thumbs stroke the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. "Maybe I like watching you squirm, Jiju. Maybe I want to see how much you really want it." The Goa air, thick with salt and sex, crackled between us.
He surged forward, grabbing my hips and yanking me hard against the solid ridge in his shorts. I felt his cock throb against my lower belly. "You little tease," he ground out, one hand sliding down to cup my ass, kneading the flesh. "Think this is a fucking game?" His other hand slid between us, his middle finger finding the soaked gusset of my panties, pressing hard against my clit through the thin lace. "Feel that? Your pussy is fucking dripping. Begging me to fill it. Just like it remembers my cock."
I cried out, grinding against his hand. "Oh god..."
"Panties. Off. Now." His voice brooked no argument. He pressed harder, rubbing in a rough circle. "Or I rip them off and fuck you right here in the sand like the animal you're turning me into."
The threat, the promise, the sheer dominance shattered my resistance. With a shaky breath, I pushed the panties down over my hips, letting them fall to my ankles. I stepped out, completely naked under the setting sun. His gaze was like a physical touch, searing every inch of me. He stared at my bare pussy, my dark curls glistening with my arousal. A low groan escaped him.
"Fuck, Nupur. Look at that." His thumb found my bare clit, slick and swollen. He rubbed it firmly, sending sparks shooting through me. "So fucking pretty. So fucking wet." He pushed a thick finger against my tight entrance. "And so fucking virgin tight." He didn't push in. He just rubbed the head of his finger against my opening, teasing. "Your Didi taught me patience," he murmured, leaning down to nip at my collarbone. "Taught me how to make a woman scream before I even put my cock in her." His thumb worked my clit faster. "You want to scream for me yet, chhoti behen?"