Mansi’s dining room

Mansi sat at the breakfast table in a short silk robe, legs crossed, still flushed from the morning session with Arif.

He had woken her with his tongue between her thighs, then fucked her slow and deep on the kitchen counter while Pushpa watched from the doorway, waiting for her turn.

Arif was now showering; the house smelled of sex, coffee, and fresh toast.

Pushpa entered in her usual modest cotton saree, the one she wore for the bus ride.

She greeted Mansi with her normal shy smile.

“Good morning, didi.”

Mansi smiled back, sipping orange juice.

“Good morning, meri jaan. Aaj jaldi aayi?”

Pushpa hesitated, cheeks colouring.

She stepped closer, pulled out her phone, and after a quick glance toward the bathroom door (to make sure Arif was still in the shower), opened her gallery.

“Didi… ek cheez dikhani hai. Aap shock ho jaayengi.”

She turned the screen toward Mansi.

The photo filled the display: Raju fast asleep, sheet pulled aside, that monstrous, jet-black, 12-inch cock lying thick and heavy against his thigh, the swollen head glistening, veins like cables under the skin.

Mansi’s fork froze halfway to her mouth.

Her eyes went wide.

Her pussy gave an involuntary clench so hard she felt it in her throat.

“Ye… ye kaun hai??” she whispered, zooming in shamelessly.

“Raju… mera cousin. 18 saal ka. Kal raat dekha… soya hua tha… maine photo le liya.”

Pushpa’s voice was shaky with lust and nervousness.

“Virgin hai, didi. Kabhi kisi ladki ke paas bhi nahi gaya.”

Mansi kept staring, licking her lips unconsciously.

The colour (deep, glistening black), the thickness (easily 2.5–3 inches around), the length even soft… it was the kind of cock that made legends.

She finally looked up at Pushpa, eyes dark with hunger.

“Tu chahti kya hai, Pushpa?”

Pushpa swallowed, hands trembling.

“Jo aap bolo, didi. Agar aapko chahiye… main help karungi laane mein.

Agar aap share karna chahein… toh bhi theek hai.

Par… pehle main taste kar loon? Please?”

Mansi put the phone down, reached across the table, and pulled Pushpa into her lap, kissing her hard.

“Sun meri pyari… tu uski pehle haq rakhne wali hai.

Uske virginity tu legi.

Use apni chut mein leke, uska pehla maal pi ke, usko pura mard bana.

Phir… jab tu ready samjhe… usko bungalow le aana.

Woh bhi humara fuck-boy banega.

Arif ke saath.

Dono jawan, dono 12-inch, dono humare.”

Pushpa’s eyes filled with tears of gratitude and lust.

“Didi… sach mein? Main… main usko taiyaar kar dungi aapke liye.”

Mansi kissed her again, hand sliding under Pushpa’s saree to cup her already-wet pussy.

“Haan. Par jaldi.

Ek hafte mein uska lund yahan hona chahiye.

Ab ja… breakfast ke baad ghar jaake apne cousin ko “welcome” kar.”

Pushpa stood, legs shaky, eyes shining.

“Ji didi… aaj hi shuru karti hoon.”

Mansi watched her go, then looked back at the photo on the table, biting her lip hard.

Two perfect 12-inch cocks under one roof.

One already hers.

One about to be broken in by her favourite girl.

She leaned back, spread her legs under the table, and texted Arif upstairs:

“Come down. Your memsaab is very, very wet thinking about her new toy.”

The breakfast could wait.

The planning had just gotten deliciously interesting.