#Exhibitionism #Incest #Teen #Virgin

By Chagulu

She kept looking at me, the question still hanging between us.

“Have you been with someone recently?”

My face heated. I looked down at the rock, then at the drying clothes, anywhere except her eyes. The wet bra and panties still clung to her, and the thick shape in my underwear was impossible to hide now that she had asked that.

“Tell na…” she
muttered, voice low. I didn’t answer properly. I couldn’t. The memory of Lisha’s body from the night before and the truck still sat too fresh under my skin.

She waited. When I stayed quiet she shifted a little closer under the tree, knees almost touching mine.

I swallowed and spoke before I could stop myself.

“Will you let me feel you?”

The words came out rougher than I intended.

She froze. Completely wordless. Her lips parted but nothing came out. The only movement was the slow rise and fall of her chest inside the wet bra. For a long moment the wind in the leaves was the only sound.

I felt the heat climb higher in my face.

“Sorry. Nevermind.”

She finally found her voice. It was quieter than before.

“You know right… I am married?”

“Ahem… that’s why leave it.” I cleared my throat and tried to steer away. “Btw, when are you planning to take a child?”

She let out a long sigh and leaned her head back against the tree trunk. Her eyes drifted toward the valley, then slowly returned to me.

“Yesterday night we had sex,” she said. “You know my husband doesn’t have long. I enjoyed his thick one but… I think his sperm is not reaching my womb.”

While she spoke her gaze dropped openly to the front of my underwear. The bulge there had only grown heavier. She stared for a second too long.

“How long are you?”

The question landed soft but direct. I felt my cock twitch under the cloth.

I didn’t answer right away. The air between us felt thicker. I could still see the faint outline of her nipples through the damp bra, the way the panties had settled into the soft crease between her thighs. My mouth felt dry.

“Why do you want to know?” I asked finally.

She gave a small, almost tired smile. “Because I’ve been sitting here watching it push against that underwear since you took your pants off. And because my husband is thick but short. Sometimes I wonder what the difference feels like.” She paused, then added, “You don’t have to show me. Just… tell me.”

I stayed quiet for a few breaths. The honesty in her voice made it harder to keep the wall up.

“Longer than him,” I said at last. “Thicker too, I think.”

She nodded slowly, as if she had already guessed. “I thought so. The way it looks right now…” Her eyes stayed on the bulge. “Does it always get like that when you look at me, or is it only today?”

“Today is worse,” I admitted. “The climb… the clothes… everything.”

She shifted again, turning so one shoulder rested against the trunk, body angled toward me. The movement made her breasts press together slightly inside the bra.

“You used to look at me when we were younger too,” she said. “But never like this. Something really did change.” She tilted her head. “Was she good? The one you were with recently.”

I felt the heat return to my neck. “I didn’t say there was one.”

“You didn’t have to.” Her voice stayed calm. “Your face said it when I asked. And the way you’re breathing right now says it again.” She glanced down once more. “It’s still getting harder while we talk.”

I looked away toward the open sky, then back. The wet cloth of her panties had dried a little at the edges but still clung in the center. I could see the soft shape of her clearly.

“Does your husband know you talk like this?” I asked.

She gave a short, quiet laugh. “No. He thinks I only think about him. Most days I do. But some days… I remember how close we used to be. How easy it was to sit next to you without thinking about anything else.” She reached up and adjusted one bra strap that had slipped. The motion lifted her breast for a second. “Yesterday he finished inside me and rolled over. I lay there wondering if anything would happen this month. It never does. Maybe it never will.”

The words hung there. I felt my cock throb once, heavy against the fabric.

“You think longer would help?” I asked, almost without meaning to.

She looked straight at me. “I think it might. At least I would feel it deeper. Sometimes I need that.” Her voice dropped a little. “You asked if you could feel me. That shocked me. But it also… didn’t make me stand up and leave.”

I swallowed. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“But you did.” She drew one knee up, resting her forearm on it. The new position opened her thighs a fraction more. “And now you’re sitting there with that obvious thing in your underwear, and I’m sitting here in wet bra and panties, and neither of us is putting the clothes back on.”

Silence stretched again. A bird called somewhere below the ridge. I could hear my own heartbeat.

“What would you do,” she asked slowly, “if I said yes?”

My throat felt tight. “I don’t know. Touch you. See how soft you still are. Compare it to… whatever I felt before.”

She watched my face while I spoke. “And if I touched you back?”

“I’d let you.”

The honesty surprised even me. She nodded once, as if filing the answer away.

“My husband is thick,” she said again, almost thoughtfully. “When he pushes in I feel stretched, but it ends too soon. There’s this place deeper that never gets pressed. I can feel it staying empty.” She glanced at my lap again. “If you’re longer… that place might finally feel something.”

I shifted on the rock. The movement made the bulge more obvious. She noticed and didn’t look away.

“Show me,” she said quietly.

I hesitated. “You sure?”

“I’m sitting here in almost nothing asking about the length of your cock after telling you my husband can’t get me pregnant. I think we’re past being careful with words.” She kept her eyes on mine. “Show me how long you are.”

My hands moved before I could talk myself out of it. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of the underwear, lifted my hips slightly, and tugged the cloth down. My cock sprang free—thick, heavy, already fully hard from the long talk and the sight of her. The length of it rested against my stomach for a second before I adjusted and let it stand.

The open air touched the heated skin. I watched her face while she looked.

She stared for a long moment, lips slightly parted, eyes moving slowly from the base to the head and back again.

Neither of us spoke.

The clothes continued drying on the rock. The wind moved through the leaves. And she kept looking at what I had just shown her.

She reached out without asking again.

Her fingers touched the underside of my cock first, light and curious, tracing the thick vein that ran along the length. The contact made me suck in a sharp breath. She watched my face while she did it, then wrapped her whole hand around the shaft and gave a slow experimental stroke from base to head. The skin was hot under her palm. She felt the weight of it, the way it pulsed once against her fingers.

“It’s heavier than I expected,” she murmured. She used both hands now—one at the base, the other sliding up to the head, thumb brushing over the tip where a bead of wetness had already gathered. She spread it in a small circle, then stroked down again. “My husband is thick… but this is longer. Definitely longer.”

She sat closer on the rock, knees almost touching mine, still only in the damp bra and panties. Her eyes stayed on my cock while she explored it properly—lifting it, weighing it in her palm, running a fingertip along the ridge of the head, then closing her fist and giving several slow pumps that made my hips twitch.

“When he pushes in I feel the stretch right away,” she said, voice thoughtful, almost clinical, “but it ends before it reaches the place that always stays hungry. This…” She stroked the full length again, measuring it against her forearm for a second. “This would go deeper. I can already tell.”

She kept working me with steady, curious hands. Sometimes she used just her fingertips, teasing the sensitive spot under the head. Sometimes she gripped tighter and stroked the whole shaft, watching the way the skin moved over the hardness underneath. Every few strokes she glanced up at my face to see the effect.

“Does it feel different when someone else touches it?” she asked.

“Yes,” I managed. My voice came out rough. “Very different.”

She smiled a little at that and kept going. The minutes stretched. She explored every inch—cupping my balls gently, rolling them, then returning to the thick shaft, spreading more of the wetness that kept leaking from the tip. The air felt hotter. My breathing had grown heavier. She noticed and slowed her hand deliberately, making me feel every centimeter of the stroke.

“You can touch my boobs,” she said suddenly.

I didn’t wait.

I lunged forward, both hands closing over the soft mounds still trapped inside the wet bra. The fabric was cool from the earlier sweat but her skin underneath was warm. I squeezed hard, feeling the heavy give of her flesh, then hooked my fingers under the cups and pulled the bra down so her breasts spilled free. They were full, soft, the nipples already tightening in the open air. I grabbed them again—bare this time—massaging with firm, hungry movements, thumbs circling the nipples, fingers digging into the sides, lifting and pressing them together.

She kept stroking my cock the whole time. Her hand moved in the same rhythm as my hands on her breasts—slow when I slowed, faster when I squeezed harder. The dual sensation made my head drop forward. I leaned in and took one nipple into my mouth, sucking while I continued to massage the other breast. She let out a quiet sound and her hand tightened around my shaft.

“Like that…” she whispered. “Keep doing that.”

I switched to the other breast, licking across the nipple before sucking it deep. My hands never stopped—squeezing, lifting, pressing the soft flesh against my face while she stroked me with longer, firmer pulls. The wet sound of her hand working my cock mixed with the soft wet sounds of my mouth on her skin. Her breathing turned uneven. Every time I sucked harder she answered with a tighter stroke.

We stayed like that for a long time—me lost in the softness of her breasts, her hand never leaving my cock, both of us learning the feel of each other under the open sky. She would pause sometimes just to hold me, thumb brushing the head, then start stroking again while I went back and forth between her nipples. The bra hung useless around her ribs. Her panties were still on, but the front was visibly damp now.

Finally she pulled her hand away and stood.

She walked the few steps to the nearest sturdy tree, placed both palms against the trunk, and bent forward at the waist. The position pushed her ass out toward me. Without looking back she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of the panties and pushed them down over her hips. They slid down her thighs and caught at her knees. She stepped one foot free so the fabric didn’t restrict her, then spread her stance a little wider.

I rose and moved behind her. My cock was still slick from her hand. I aligned the thick head against the soft, wet entrance she had just exposed. The heat of her kissed the tip. I pushed forward slowly.

The first inch sank in with a tight, hot resistance. She drew a sharp breath and pressed her forehead against the tree bark. I kept going—steady, controlled—feeling her walls stretch and grip around the thick shaft as more of me disappeared inside her. Halfway in I paused, both hands settling on her hips, and then pushed the rest of the way until my hips met her ass and every inch was buried.

She stayed bent over the tree, breathing hard, taking the full length of me in the open air of the hilltop.

I held still for a moment, deep inside her, feeling the pulse of her body around mine.

I stayed buried to the hilt for only a few breaths before the need to move took over.

My hands tightened on her hips and I pulled back until just the thick head remained inside her, then drove forward hard. The wet sound of our bodies meeting cracked through the quiet hilltop air. She gasped against the tree bark, fingers digging into the rough trunk. I set a steady, powerful rhythm—long strokes that dragged every inch of my cock through her tight heat, then slammed home again. Each thrust forced a soft, broken moan from her throat.

“Harder, Bhai…” she managed between breaths.

I gave her harder. My hips snapped forward faster, the slap of skin against skin growing louder. Her breasts swung freely with every impact; I reached around with one hand and grabbed one, squeezing the soft flesh while I kept pounding into her from behind. The other hand stayed locked on her hip, holding her steady so she couldn’t pull away even if she wanted to. Her walls clenched and fluttered around me with every deep stroke, hot and slick, coating my cock until the wet sounds turned filthy.

Sweat ran down my chest and dripped onto her back. The sun filtered through the leaves, warming our skin. I could feel every ridge inside her, every small spasm when I hit the deepest spot she had talked about earlier. She pushed back to meet my thrusts, ass bouncing against my hips, panties still tangled around one ankle.

The first climax built fast and heavy. My balls tightened. The pleasure concentrated at the base of my spine until it became almost painful. I leaned over her, chest against her back, and drove in as deep as I could go.

“I’m going to—”

“Inside,” she cut me off, voice raw. “Do it inside.”

I slammed forward one last time and came hard. Thick pulses shot deep into her, flooding her while her walls milked every drop. My hips jerked involuntarily, grinding against her ass as the orgasm ripped through me in long, intense waves. She moaned loudly, forehead pressed to the tree, taking it all. I kept her pinned there until the last spurt faded and my cock stopped throbbing.

We stayed locked together, both breathing hard. My cock softened only a little; the heat of her body kept it from going fully soft. After a minute I pulled back slowly. A thick trickle of cum followed and ran down the inside of her thigh.

She didn’t straighten up. Instead she looked back over her shoulder, eyes still dark with need.

“Again.”

I didn’t need more than that.

I pushed back into her while she was still dripping with my first load. The slide was easier this time—slick, filthy, perfect. I started thrusting again immediately, faster than before. The second round had no slow build. I fucked her with raw intensity, hands gripping her waist hard enough to leave marks, hips slamming forward without pause. The wet squelch of my cock driving through the mixture of her juices and my cum filled the air. Her moans turned sharper, higher.

I reached around again, this time finding her clit with my fingers while I kept pounding her. She cried out and pushed back harder. Her bra still hung loose under her breasts; they bounced wildly with every thrust. I leaned down and bit the side of her neck, then the soft skin of her shoulder, never slowing the relentless pace.

“Don’t stop—don’t you dare stop—”

I didn’t. The second orgasm built even stronger than the first. My cock swelled inside her. She felt it and clenched deliberately around me, milking me while I fucked her through it. When I came the second time it was deeper, longer—pulse after thick pulse flooding her already-full pussy until it overflowed and dripped down both our thighs. My legs shook. I had to brace one hand against the tree beside hers just to stay upright while I emptied everything I had left into her.

We stayed exactly like that—me buried deep, her bent over the tree, both of us trembling and panting. My cock twitched with aftershocks inside her. Neither of us moved for a long time.

Finally she spoke, voice quiet but clear.

“Don’t mention this to anyone. Not a word.”

“I won’t,” I answered, still catching my breath.

Only then did I slowly pull out. More cum followed, thick and white, running down her legs. She straightened carefully, pulled her panties back up, and fixed her bra. I found my underwear and stepped into them. The clothes on the rock were mostly dry by now. We put them back on in silence—tank top and leggings for her, t-shirt and half-pants for me.

We sat again under the tree, this time side by side, looking out over the valley. The intense heat between us had settled into a heavy, satisfied quiet. After a while she opened one of the bags and took out the food my mother had packed—simple roti, some sabzi, a couple of bananas. We ate slowly, sharing the water from the thermo flasks, watching the view as if the last hour had been nothing more than a long rest.

When the food was finished we packed everything, checked the bags, and started the walk back down the hill. The path felt easier now. Neither of us spoke much, but every so often our eyes met and the memory of what had just happened passed between us without a single word.

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By Chagulu
#Exhibitionism #Incest #Teen #Virgin