Sangita Village Girl To Urban Maid

Her name was Sangita. She had been born in a village in North India to parents who farmed a small piece of land as their only means of sustenance. Growing up with her siblings, she began helping out the family in her early years, with education being a distant priority. She learned to cook, look after babies, till the land, harvest crops, draw water from a well, and everything else that 80% of the country's female workforce learned to do in the rural economy.

Her brother was born a year after her, and their younger sister another eighteen months later. Growing up, they lived in a mud-caked brick house which had just one room that was partitioned with a curtain. Their parents slept in the back and the siblings in front. There was a bathroom, little more than a hole in the ground, across from the mud packed courtyard on which hens, goats and two cows often rested in the shade of a large oak tree. They drew water from a bore well with a rusted hand-pump for all their washing and culinary needs. The cooking was done in the courtyard over a mud stove in one corner. They were poor but not on the brink of starvation.

Sangita, despite her lack of education, grew up smart and quick in a world dominated by the menfolk of her tiny village. By the time she was 19 years old, her body had blossomed and became increasingly difficult to hide despite the general modesty of her apparel. She knew she had a very beautiful face; large dark brown eyes and thick long hair that she braided into a pleat that fell down to her hips. She had a sharp jawline that accentuated the heart-shaped face, full lips that looked soft and delicate, and an elegant neck that merged with her rounded shoulders. Her enchanting looks had already begun to draw comments from passers by and relatives; something she was aware and innocently proud of.

Her breasts were already a firm 36 inches but she felt uncomfortable wearing the C-cup brassieres her mother had bought for her. Although they never had a full length mirror in their hovel, Sangita would run her hands all over her naked body when there was nobody in the house and she was changing clothes after a bath. She had seen pictures of Bollywood actresses and felt her figure was similar to many of them; the tapered waist and the swell of her hips. She was 5'4" tall, her pubic hair and the tufts of hirsute growth in her armpits were considerable, and she often masturbated thinking of one of the boys from a neighbouring village she had once spied urinating in the open fields. That was the first and only time she had seen a human penis.

Sangita was also discovering her body and its erogenous zones; the large nipples that stood out hard from her dark brown areolas, the wetness of her cunt when she teased the inner labia, the way her clitoris protruded from under the clitoral hood when she stimulated herself. She knew about her hymen and the importance of keeping her virginity intact till her marriage. But that knowledge had never dissuaded her from probing her vagina; sometimes with her fingers and on occasion with a freshly washed cucumber. And at some stage she did in fact tear her hymen; she didn't talk to anyone about it and after some time chose not to dwell on the subject. Technically she was still a virgin as long as she hadn't had penetrative sex with a man.

Her first sexual encounter was with her sibling. It was the end of March and Sangita's brother had just completed his school exams. Their parents had taken the younger sister to a neighbouring village where their mother's uncle lived; they had to do some shopping at the nearby town and had planned to stay for three days. Sangita was staying back to cook and generally look after her brother.

The sun had set and dusk was turning to night; there was one solitary lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, lighting up the room where the two sat gossiping. They had an easy relationship, having grown up together and were as much friends as they were siblings. After dinner and washing up, they laid out their mattresses on the ground and sat next to each other, talking into the night enjoying the freedom of being left alone by the rest of their family. They were both wearing loose pyjamas and long shirts, also called a kurta, as they sat with their backs against a wall of the room.

"Do you think I am beautiful, Brother?" Sangita suddenly asked.

"What!?" He was so taken aback with the unexpectedness of her query that he simply gaped at her.

She didn't respond; just looked at him with an earnestness that convinced him that she was actually waiting for an answer.

When Sangita's brother realised that his sister was not being rhetorical, he said "Of course! Everybody thinks you're beautiful, Didi, and you know that." He had always called her Didi, the generic but still respectful term for an elder sister.

"I don't mean just my face. What about my body? Do you think I have a good figure?" she persevered.

"How would I know?" her brother replied, "I've never seen your body." That was a lie. He had found a hole in the brick wall of the common bathroom outside which the family used and had, on two separate occasions, taken the risk of being spotted while peering through. The first time was by chance, more than accident, when he was returning from school and had heard mug-fulls of water being poured inside the roofless lavatory and bath area. The walls were too high for him to peer over or even climb but he had been intrigued by who would be bathing that late in the day. Curiosity got the better of him as he side-stepped towards the back wall, adjacent to the mustard fields where the shimmering golden lustre danced in the late afternoon sunshine.

Careful not no make any noise with his footsteps, he had edged up to the wall and placed his eye almost flush against a hole in the brickwork. When he saw his sister ladling mugs of water out of a plastic bucket and pouring it over her head, he almost ran away in shock. His immediate reaction at that moment had been to snap his head backwards but the pull of his sister's nakedness was too strong for him to resist. She was hunched on the ground, squatting on her haunches, and pouring water over her shoulders and back, using the spare hand to wash away the soapy lather from her body.

"Would you like to see my body, Brother?" Sangita said, breaking into his reverie.

He wasn't sure he had heard correctly because her voice had been very low, almost a whisper. When he heard the question, he was already reminiscing about the couple of times he had in fact already seen her naked. His throat was parched when he tried to answer but no sound emanated from his mouth. Instead, he grunted and nodded his head in the affirmative, trying to keep the lust out of his eyes.

Sangita got up off the floor and walked to their parents' bedroom, drawing the curtain behind her. As her brother waited in desperate anticipation, feeling slightly wretched about his abject salaciousness, he was once again picturing his sister in the bath. Stooped on the floor, she had given him a profile view of herself which he drank in with libidinous abandon. The golden brown hue of her shoulders and back, the curved spine, as water trickled down along the flawless skin. The wholesome breasts that seemed heavy and the dark brown areolas that encircled her nipples; it was the most intoxicating view he had ever experienced in his young life.

But then, fear of being discovered had compelled him to turn around and leave despite the powerful allure of seeing his sister in the nude. Since then, he had constantly masturbated with that vision in his mind. Now, as he heard the curtain being pulled and saw her step out from behind, there was already a strong stirring in his groin.

Sangita looked bashful as she stood in front of him, wearing nothing but her panties and brassiere. "What do you think?" she asked, her voice still barely above a whisper.

His mouth opened wide before he could say anything, but finally gasped "Wow! Didi. You look stunning. You should leave your hair open more often like this." He still had his mouth agape as she twirled and gave her brother a 360 degree view of her body, feeling a little less shy now. His crotch was decidedly uncomfortable as his penis swelled and began to tent his pyjamas. He folded his knees and drew his thighs against his chest so that, fighting hard to keep an innocently platonic look on his face. He made a number of more complimentary comments, wishing he had the balls to ask her to take off her lingerie, before she went back into the curtained back room and donned her night clothes again.

While she was gone, Sangita's brother took the flashlight from the table where it always rested and made his way to the bathroom outside; night had fallen. As he walked, he was remembering the second occasion that he had seen his sister naked, again having a bath in the late afternoon. That time, he had caught her drying herself after her ablutions and was amazed at the thick forest of pubic hair that grew on her vulva, and the hairy armpits when she raised her arms to towel her hair. Every memory was firmly etched in his brain; the full heavy breasts, the deep navel embedded in her abdomen, the strong athletic shape of her thighs, the rounded contours of her buttocks, everything.

Now, as he approached the open air bathroom, he was already fumbling with the drawstring of his pyjamas. He stepped in and let the nightwear drop to the ground, pooling around his ankles, as he took his cock in his hand. With a tight fist, he began tugging at his shaft, pictures of Sangita from a few minutes ago flashing in a discombobulated collage with earlier memories. He was picturing himself touching her voluptuous body; so intense was his imagination that he thought he could actually smell her and feel her skin on his fingertips. He didn't need to spend too much time masturbating before he came in a vicious climax, his semen jetting across the width of the bathroom and splattering the wall opposite him. He hurriedly shook himself dry before pulling up his night pants and hastening back to the house.

That night they slept peacefully next to one another, basking in the comfort of their togetherness and privacy. Sangita's mind still refused to recognise the fact that she thought her brother was a physically attractive male, but under the surface of her platonic love for him was a corporeal subconsciousness that had begun to stir. Her brother, temporarily satiated after his ejaculation, napped in a dreamless state for most of the night. It was only in the early hours, at dawn before sunrise the next morning, that he woke up with a throbbing hard-on. He opened his eyes at the same time that his hand instinctively moved to his crotch and gripped his erection.

He was lying on his side, facing the back of his sister's head; her knees were bent and she was in a semi-curled up position. Her nightshirt had ridden up her back and her waist was faintly visible above the band of her pyjamas. Unthinkingly, he pushed his hips forward and let his tumescent cock press against her buttocks slightly through the clothes they wore. For long minutes he stayed still in that position, anguished and fearful that he may overstep their strong moral compunctions but unable to move away. He wanted desperately to free his phallus from the confines of his sleepwear, wanted to cup her breasts in his masculine palms, wanted to feel her hand on his penis, wanted to touch the furry mound of her pudenda, wanted to kiss her on the mouth.

The intensity of his salacious desires may have penetrated her somnambulant brain because Sangita stirred at that moment, forcing him to back away in a reflex motion. He yawned and pretended he was just waking up as she turned on her back and opened her eyes. They looked at each other and smiled, then both got up rubbing their eyes. They spent the next hour getting ready, elder sister getting first crack at the lavatory so she could prepare breakfast while the younger brother had his bath and dressed in day clothes. After that, they went about their separate days and met again only in the evening.

Sangita had already prepared dinner and the two siblings sat outside on a charpai bed-set that was a simple design of four strong vertical wooden posts with a weave of jute ropes that formed the horizontal surface. Like the previous evening, after washing the utensils and themselves, they went inside and sat down on their floor mattresses. They whiled away their time talking, avoiding the subject of Sangita having stripped almost bare the previous night for her brother to examine and comment on her body.

"I've seen you with that girl, the tailor aunty's daughter," Sangita said as their conversation veered to the young adults of the village. "Is she your girlfriend?" she asked provocatively, arching her eyebrows as she looked at her brother.

"No!" he exclaimed rather vehemently, "She's just someone from my class, that's all."

Sangita saw the sheepish expression on his face and continued to impishly quiz him. "So you like educated girls? And she's good looking and sexy as well," she said, nudging him in the ribs.

How could he tell her that after he had seen her naked, he couldn't think of any other girls in that way. "She's just a friend," he mumbled shyly, a confusion of thoughts rushing through his mind.

After another half hour of casual banter, she stood up to switch off the overhanging bulb and then lay down on her floor mattress next to him. Sleep didn't come easily that night to either of them. While Sangita lay on her back with her eyes shut, her brother tossed and turned uneasily, visions of his sister tormenting his feverishly sensitive mind.

She wasn't asleep, only too aware of his restlessness. After a while, she turned to lie on her side, facing him, and whispered "Are you alright, Brother? What's the matter?" She reached a hand to his face and asked "Do you have a fever?"

He stayed silent, unable to respond, holding back his tears. Deep emotions and raging hormones fused in his very distraught mind for a minute before they burst out in a sudden release. He turned to his right and threw his left arm around his sister, burying his face in her bosom and wept; he held back all sound but the sobs racked his body as he heaved against her. She bent her elbow and brought her left hand to the top of his head, fingers buried in his thick tousled hair as she held him to her chest. She felt the wetness of his tears on her skin where her night shirt was open below the collar.

The darkness and the silence were complete in the room; the only sound came from the strident chirping of the night crickets outside. She felt her brother move against her as he lifted his head and placed it against the nape of her neck; he bent his left knee and wedged it between her legs as his hips moved and his groin pressed against her. She felt the hard nudge of his erect phallus push against the soft flesh of her thigh, aware that only the thin cotton fabric of their pyjamas offered a last bastion of their moral consciousness.

Sangita had broken into a sweat, a thin film of perspiration erupting on her chest and forehead. She felt the exudation in her armpits and also realised that her cunt was wet; it had happened so suddenly that she froze with the realisation of what was happening to her body. Arousal and desire washed over like an onrushing avalanche, burying her senses in a deluge of debauched turpitude as she felt her brother's warm breath on her skin. A heat spread from her central core to the far reaches of her body as her fingers clenched at her brother's hair and she found herself responding to the pressure from his crotch.

She felt his hand pull forward from over her back and rest on one of her breasts; she was not wearing a brassiere and he immediately felt the hard jut of her nipple against his palm. When he moved his hand over the cotton covered protrusion, her breath caught as a moan escaped from her throat. He opened his eyes and lifted his head from the crook of her neck when he heard another groan, continuing to rub circles over her nipple and full breast with his palm. Their lips touched briefly as they both moved their faces, not really cognisant of the passion and prurient lustfulness that was overtaking their bodies.

She searched for his mouth again and rested her lips against his, not quite certain what to do next. Meanwhile, his strong masculine hand was groping both her breasts, fingers gently pinching one nipple after another. Sangita snaked her hand under his nightshirt and felt the taut abdominal muscles on his torso; she ran her fingers across the smoothness of his chest till she felt the tiny nub of one of his nipples. Neither had time to think; it was their very first experience of having another person titillate their bodies. They had only ever gratified themselves, masturbating to vivid pictures of erotic situations involving the opposite sex.

But this was completely different; even though they had not progressed too deep into their sexual transgression, the sensations being triggered off in their bodies and minds were beyond anything they had felt while pleasing themselves. Her brother was thrusting his groin against Sangita's upper thighs as his hand moved to undo the top three buttons of her nightshirt. He mashed his lips against hers as he groped one naked breast and extracted it from the garment, pinching the extremely hard and long nipple. She moaned loudly, her hips beginning to squirm and push against his solid erection.

Then her brother did something he had long dreamed of; he lowered his head and took her nipple into his mouth while furiously scooping her other breast out of her open fronted shirt. He sucked hard on her mamilla as he lifted his body off the mattress and raised his trunk over her, forcing her to twist from her side and lie on her back. Her right hand went to the top of his head and she intertwined her fingers in the tousled mop of his hair. With her other hand, she desperately sought out the drawstring of his pyjamas and pulled it loose, thrusting her fist inside and grabbing hold of his ramrod penis.

They were reaching a point of no return without ever being conscious of the potential ramifications; their mind had lost control over their feverish bodies. Pure animal instinct was driving them with the most erotic sensations either of them had ever experienced in the entirety of their young lives. The jump from innocent adolescence to a new found world of impassioned eroticism had been too sudden, the primal wantonness of their promiscuity too overpowering.

Sangita never stopped to wonder or marvel at how enormous her brother's phallus was, not that she had a yardstick to judge by. His erect penis was almost eight inches in length with a diameter of about two and a half inches. She didn't realise that droplets of pre-cum had slicked the fiery head of his rock-hard manhood, or that his testes were drawn up into his scrotum as his arousal reached new heights. He didn't stop to think of how large and wholesome his sister's breasts were or the fact that her erect nipples were longer than he could have ever imagined.

When he felt his sister's hand grip his cock, he whimpered as his body reacted to the shivers that ran through his nerves. He took is hands away momentarily from her bosom and clutched the helm of her nightshirt, pulling it up along her torso and bunching the garment in folds around her neck. Then his mouth swooped back to one of her breasts as his hand groped at the other, mauling her nipples. Sangita was now tugging his penis, yanking it back and forth in a motion she knew instinctively was what he would want.

But he growled, lifted his head up from her boobs and in a gratingly raspy voice implored her, "Didi, dont!"