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» Brother becomes sister pussy lover - Color of sister's panties Part 1
Brother becomes sister pussy lover - Color of sister's panties Part 1
Brother becomes sister pussy lover - Color of sister's panties Part 1 , Brother suck sister pussy love hot porn , My Cock Naps Inside Sister's Cozy Pussy , Step brother fucks sister's vagina close up.
"If you can tell the color of my panties..." Madhuri says, looking at brother. "Something may happen now." His bright eyes sparkle.
The word 'panties' kicks Dev. It guides him toward her, inexorably, in deep need of what he says his goldmine in his sister's womanhood. He is crazy about her panties because he says they cover his juice-well, the source of his life-potion when she wears them. With panties she has baptized him and got his allegiance and protection. In panties they have an interest which is powerful enough to live an entire life together.
Dev's eyes travel from her breasts to her jeansed crotch. His eyes seem to tear the hard fabric to see what color she has worn today. "And my bra, darling?" Madhuri says, sexily, caressingly. "It matches with my panties."
Dev looks at her breasts, jutting from inside her bra and white work-shirt; the two buttons on her chest are suffering from their weight. She has good breasts. She is proud of them. Two rich crowns of flesh that always remind her that she is a woman, that she has something between her legs too, something very important to a man, specially to her brother.
It is nice to have Dev here when she undresses after work. After a long weary day at office, scolding five executives of the five departments of her booming software company Ma-Tech, and countless software engineers, it is her time to enjoy with her kid brother in her own private world. Madhuri's father died of heart-attack in his private jet three months ago while shuttling from Dubai to Chennai, where he made a fortune in last 20 years in software business. Madhuri's mother left the busy businessman husband for a university professor when Dev was five. 16 years old then, Madhuri raised Dev as a single mother would do her son. Madhuri's father raised a mistress somewhere in the city. His death has left a legacy she has to deal with.
Dev takes the remote-control and lowers the temperature of the air-conditioner by two degrees. Dev has always been looking for her comfort. Madhuri's heart fills in tenderness as she feels her perspiration cooling. Her breasts swell in love, exerting extra pressure on the two shirt-buttons. Dev's eyes are glued to her stiffening nipples, which make their presence felt even from two layers of garments.
"Honey, don't you like to guess what color is your didi's panties today?"
Teasing Dev is such a great fun. She has no time for cinema or television. She would have, if she were not this much busy with Dev. What life is better than the one with such a brother who worships your breasts? Madhuri watches the change of color on Dev's face. The line of his manhood getting clearer against his cotton shorts as she flaunts her sisterly charms. She knows, by instinct, he is suffering. But she wants to be sure. She inquires, "What happened baby? Why are your cheeks dancing? What makes you --?"
"My mouth is watering, didi."
"What?" Madhuri snaps. "Why your mouth is watering? Am I naked? Aren't I in most presentable condition to the priest?"
Madhuri feels humidity smoking out of her pussy.
Dev says, "You know they are the most beautiful sight when they are naked. But they are no less beautiful when you are dressed."
"What they are, Dev, my transgressed brother?"
"Your breasts."
"You are always gentleman," Madhuri says. "But sometimes you can speak your mind."
"If I could I'd give them the most beautiful name. But I'm unable to. No word can express them, didi. There is no word that can express your breasts."
"More beautiful than Katrina's, Priyanka's, Dipika's."
"Phoo, didi." Dev retorts. "These girls? Only Priyanka has some nice titties. Others, Phoo. Besides I don't buy something that's in market. That's for business. They are only for making money, for flaunting, for making unlucky boys masturbate. Something that is so much on display is incapable of giving its possessor any feel of love or romance. I don't believe they have any feel. I like breasts which are for love, for enjoyment of somebody you care about, you love, you protect."
Madhuri swallows some sentiment. Her brother is an artist. She has him in companion of love. She feels herself to be the luckiest girl on earth. And something she notices. "Dev Khandelkar," Madhuri reproaches. "You know some bad words. You have just said 'tits'. Can't you call didi's breasts tits sometimes, only for the sake of being naughty?"
Dev drinks water in his mouth. And he is not ashamed of it. "Is it sweet, baby?" Madhuri asks. "The water in your mouth."
"Very much."
"I wish, I could taste," Madhuri says, regrettably.
Somebody taps on the door. Madhuri opens it. A servant girl leaves two tumblers of pineapple juice and a plate of sandwiches. The servants know Madam and her brother spend the evenings together when Madam returns home.
The word 'panties' kicks Dev. It guides him toward her, inexorably, in deep need of what he says his goldmine in his sister's womanhood. He is crazy about her panties because he says they cover his juice-well, the source of his life-potion when she wears them. With panties she has baptized him and got his allegiance and protection. In panties they have an interest which is powerful enough to live an entire life together.
Dev's eyes travel from her breasts to her jeansed crotch. His eyes seem to tear the hard fabric to see what color she has worn today. "And my bra, darling?" Madhuri says, sexily, caressingly. "It matches with my panties."
Dev looks at her breasts, jutting from inside her bra and white work-shirt; the two buttons on her chest are suffering from their weight. She has good breasts. She is proud of them. Two rich crowns of flesh that always remind her that she is a woman, that she has something between her legs too, something very important to a man, specially to her brother.
It is nice to have Dev here when she undresses after work. After a long weary day at office, scolding five executives of the five departments of her booming software company Ma-Tech, and countless software engineers, it is her time to enjoy with her kid brother in her own private world. Madhuri's father died of heart-attack in his private jet three months ago while shuttling from Dubai to Chennai, where he made a fortune in last 20 years in software business. Madhuri's mother left the busy businessman husband for a university professor when Dev was five. 16 years old then, Madhuri raised Dev as a single mother would do her son. Madhuri's father raised a mistress somewhere in the city. His death has left a legacy she has to deal with.
Dev takes the remote-control and lowers the temperature of the air-conditioner by two degrees. Dev has always been looking for her comfort. Madhuri's heart fills in tenderness as she feels her perspiration cooling. Her breasts swell in love, exerting extra pressure on the two shirt-buttons. Dev's eyes are glued to her stiffening nipples, which make their presence felt even from two layers of garments.
"Honey, don't you like to guess what color is your didi's panties today?"
Teasing Dev is such a great fun. She has no time for cinema or television. She would have, if she were not this much busy with Dev. What life is better than the one with such a brother who worships your breasts? Madhuri watches the change of color on Dev's face. The line of his manhood getting clearer against his cotton shorts as she flaunts her sisterly charms. She knows, by instinct, he is suffering. But she wants to be sure. She inquires, "What happened baby? Why are your cheeks dancing? What makes you --?"
"My mouth is watering, didi."
"What?" Madhuri snaps. "Why your mouth is watering? Am I naked? Aren't I in most presentable condition to the priest?"
Madhuri feels humidity smoking out of her pussy.
Dev says, "You know they are the most beautiful sight when they are naked. But they are no less beautiful when you are dressed."
"What they are, Dev, my transgressed brother?"
"Your breasts."
"You are always gentleman," Madhuri says. "But sometimes you can speak your mind."
"If I could I'd give them the most beautiful name. But I'm unable to. No word can express them, didi. There is no word that can express your breasts."
"More beautiful than Katrina's, Priyanka's, Dipika's."
"Phoo, didi." Dev retorts. "These girls? Only Priyanka has some nice titties. Others, Phoo. Besides I don't buy something that's in market. That's for business. They are only for making money, for flaunting, for making unlucky boys masturbate. Something that is so much on display is incapable of giving its possessor any feel of love or romance. I don't believe they have any feel. I like breasts which are for love, for enjoyment of somebody you care about, you love, you protect."
Madhuri swallows some sentiment. Her brother is an artist. She has him in companion of love. She feels herself to be the luckiest girl on earth. And something she notices. "Dev Khandelkar," Madhuri reproaches. "You know some bad words. You have just said 'tits'. Can't you call didi's breasts tits sometimes, only for the sake of being naughty?"
Dev drinks water in his mouth. And he is not ashamed of it. "Is it sweet, baby?" Madhuri asks. "The water in your mouth."
"Very much."
"I wish, I could taste," Madhuri says, regrettably.
Somebody taps on the door. Madhuri opens it. A servant girl leaves two tumblers of pineapple juice and a plate of sandwiches. The servants know Madam and her brother spend the evenings together when Madam returns home.
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