On closer inspection, I realized it was our mother’s dress, the one she wore for her marriage. I knew it because I had seen videos of our parents’ marriage. And my sister was looking just like our mom, just a few times prettier.
But it broke my heart. Our mom died giving all our home’s responsibility to our sister who was now going to get fucked by a man older than our father, in our house, in the bridal dress that she wore all those years ago.
Behind her, Kartar Singh stood in a simple kurta pyajama, one he usually wore at night.
“He’s sleeping!” He hugged her from behind and slid his hand across the bangles.
“Let’s go, I can’t wait to fuck you!” He tried to kiss her but she moved away.
“Wait jaan! Not in front of him! Let’s go to your room.”
They turned off the light and walked out, hand in hand, shutting the door behind them. I waited for a few minutes and then carefully walked towards Kartar Singh’s room. I picked my usual spot and got a complete view of what was happening inside.
My sister handed out a bowl of sindoor to Kartar Singh and asked her to fill her maang, a ritual in Hindu weddings. He took a pinch of it and filled the partition between her hair. Then, she handed him a manglasutra (a form of necklace that married women wear) and asked him to tie it around her neck. Which he did eagerly.
“I, Riya Singh, accept you, Kartar Singh, as my husband.”
She bowed down to touch his feet. Kartar Singh was in no mood for theatrics as he quickly pulled her up and started kissing her greedily. She stopped him, looked into his eyes, and then kissed him romantically. He removed her ghungat from her head and it fell down on her shoulders. He then untied her bun to let her hair down. She had done something on her hair as well as they looked shinier and curlier than before. He seemed to love it as he let his hand run wild in the softness of her hair and started eating her lips.
He then went for her throat, biting it and kissing it.
“Ahh!” She moaned.
They started kissing again as Kartar Singh untied the knot on my sister’s backless blouse. He then grabbed her hips over the netted lehenga which made her moan louder.
He then took her in front of a mirror and got behind her. He buried his nose in her hair and rubbed his erect dick on her ass. She was looking at herself in the mirror, mesmerized. I think she saw what I saw:
An innocent, gorgeous 20 year old bride, being primed to be fucked by a 50 year old monster. She kept moaning as she looked at Kartar Singh biting her ear, licking her neck and fondling her boobs. Kartar Singh stopped and seductively pushed her hair towards her right breast.
He then slowly removed the red netted dupatta from her shoulder and untied her necklace, planting kisses everywhere. He got down towards her stomach and kissed her there. After a few small kisses he took her navel in his mouth and sucked on it.
“Ahhhhh!” She went mad. In the mirror, you could see the face of a person deep in trance.
“I have wanted to fuck you since the day I came here. Ahhh!” Groaned Kartar Singh.