amishu and rohan

Kriti bustled in the kitchen, the aroma of spiced rice and curry filling the small family home. Her younger sister, Amishu, just fifteen, set the table with quick, eager movements, while their cousin Rohan, seventeen and visiting for the week, lounged against the counter, scrolling his phone. The house felt fuller with him there, sharing Amishu's room since it had two beds. Kriti had installed a hidden CCTV camera in that room weeks ago, a secret precaution after some neighborhood worries, accessible only through her phone app. She never mentioned it to anyone.

Dinner passed with light chatter. 'Pass the dal, Amishu,' Kriti said, spooning food onto plates. Rohan nodded along, his eyes flicking between the sisters. As plates cleared, he stretched and turned to Amishu. 'Hey, let's head to the room. Got a movie queued up—something fun.' Amishu glanced at Kriti, who shrugged. 'Go on, it's fine. I'll clean up.' They slipped away, laughter echoing down the hall. Kriti didn't think twice, wiping counters until the house quieted.

An hour later, Kriti lay in her bed, eyelids heavy, the day's fatigue pulling her under. But curiosity nagged—what were they up to? She grabbed her phone, thumbed open the app, and the feed flickered to life: Amishu's room, dimly lit by a bedside lamp. The two sat on Amishu's bed, backs against the headboard, Rohan's arm casual around her shoulders. Kriti hesitated, then tapped for audio. Static crackled, then voices.

'...see that? She's taking it all,' Rohan murmured, phone screen glowing between them. Amishu's eyes widened, a flush creeping up her neck. 'Rohan, this isn't a movie. It's... dirty.' He chuckled low. 'Better than any flick. Watch how he grabs her.' Kriti froze, heart thudding. Porn? With her fifteen-year-old sister? She should burst in, stop this. But her thumb hovered, curiosity rooting her. Rohan was family, just messing around. Right?

The video on their phone ended. Rohan set it aside, turning to Amishu. 'Like what you saw?' She bit her lip, shifting. 'It's weird. But... kinda exciting.' He leaned in, guiding her back onto the pillows. 'Just like in the movie, then.' His lips met hers, soft at first. Amishu stiffened, then relaxed, murmuring, 'Like that?' Kriti’s breath caught, phone gripped tight. This was crossing lines.

Rohan's hand slid up, cupping Amishu's breast through her thin top. She gasped, a soft moan escaping. 'Rohan...' He pressed firmer, kneading the flesh. 'Feels good, doesn't it?' Her body arched slightly, another moan bubbling out—her first real one. Kriti’s mouth went dry, shock rippling through her. Amishu, moaning? From him?

He tugged at her buttons, popping them open one by one, exposing pale skin. His fingers squeezed her bare breasts now, thumbs circling the peaks. Amishu whimpered, 'That tickles... but don't stop.' Rohan grinned, unhooking her bra with a flick. It fell away, and he latched onto a nipple, sucking hard, tongue flicking. She moaned louder, back bowing. 'Oh... Rohan!' He clamped a hand over her mouth mid-cry, diving back in for a kiss, his other hand still squeezing, pinching. Muffled sounds filled the audio, Amishu's protests melting into sighs.

Kriti’s pulse raced, worry twisting in her gut. She should intervene. But her eyes stayed glued, a strange heat building between her thighs. What was wrong with her?

Rohan trailed kisses down, yanking her skirt and panties off in rough pulls. Amishu naked now, she crossed her arms over her chest, legs clamping shut. 'Rohan, no—cover up?' He pried her thighs apart gently once. 'Let me see. Please?' Blushing furiously, she parted them, exposing her smooth pussy. Kriti leaned closer to the screen, breath shallow.

His fingers brushed her folds, stroking slow at first, then dipping in. Amishu’s legs snapped shut again, a yelp escaping. 'Ow! Too fast!' Rohan coaxed, 'Open up, Amishu. Just relax.' She whimpered but complied, thighs trembling as he rubbed her clit, sliding a finger inside her tightness.

Kriti shifted on her bed, thighs pressing together. Wetness soaked her own panties—watching this live felt forbidden, intoxicating.

Rohan dropped lower, spreading her wide. His mouth covered her pussy, tongue lashing roughly, teeth grazing. Amishu thrashed, hands pushing his head. 'Stop! It hurts—Rohan, please!' Tears streaked her cheeks as he sucked her clit hard, fingers plunging deep, ignoring her cries. She sobbed, body jerking in pain. Kriti bit her lip, the scene raw, like live porn unfolding. Her hand slipped under her waistband, circling unconsciously.

Rohan reared up, stripping naked. His cock stood hard, veined and thick. He grabbed Amishu's hair, pulling her toward it. 'Suck it. Like the girls do.' She turned away, gagging at the musky scent. 'No, gross—Rohan, I can't!' He forced her mouth open, thrusting in shallow. 'Open wider. Good girl.' She choked, tears flowing, but he held firm, fucking her face slow. 'That's it, tongue out.' Disgust twisted her features, pleas muffled around him.

Kriti’s stomach churned—bad, so bad. Yet she couldn't look away, fingers moving faster on herself.

Then the worst: Rohan positioned between her legs, cockhead nudging her virgin slit. Amishu panicked, shoving at his chest. 'No sex! Please, Rohan—I'm scared!' He pinned her wrists. 'Shh, it'll fit. You're mine now.' Kriti knew it—rape, plain. She could call out, stop him. But the phone stayed in hand, feed unpaused.

He thrust in brutal, tearing through her tightness. Amishu screamed, 'It hurts! Stop—Rohan, you're my cousin!' Blood trickled as he pounded deep, grunting in pleasure. 'Fuck, so tight. Take it.' She begged through sobs, 'Leave me! Please, no more!' He ignored, slamming harder, balls slapping her ass. Her cries filled the audio, body convulsing under the assault.

Kriti watched, tears pricking her eyes, worry flooding her. Her sister—raped. But the explicit brutality held her, a dark thrill mixing with guilt.

Rohan flipped her onto stomach after the first brutal fuck, her pussy gaping and raw. 'Ass now.' She clawed the sheets. 'No! Not there—please!' Lubed only by her juices and spit, he forced his cock into her tight asshole, inch by inch. Amishu wailed, 'It burns! Stop, Rohan!' He groaned, 'God, even tighter,' and rammed full, hips pistoning. She buried her face in the pillow, muffled screams as he reamed her, pulling hair to arch her back. Sweat slicked their bodies; he spanked her cheeks red, thrusting erratic until he came, flooding her ass with hot spurts. 'Take my cum, slut.' She collapsed, sobbing as he pulled out, cum leaking.

Barely pausing, he rolled her over, cock hardening again. 'Pussy round two.' Amishu shook her head weakly. 'Can't... hurts too much.' He spread her legs, plunging back into her swollen cunt, fucking with long, vicious strokes. 'Beg all you want—feels too good.' Her moans mixed pain and unwanted sparks; he pinched her nipples, biting her neck, marking her. She gasped, 'Cousin... why?' He laughed breathlessly, speeding up, until another orgasm hit him, pumping seed deep inside her battered pussy.

He dragged her up by the hair for her mouth next. 'Clean me.' Cock smeared with cum and blood, he shoved into her throat. She gagged violently, 'No more—disgusting!' But he face-fucked her relentlessly, hands gripping her head, balls tapping her chin. Tears and drool streamed; she choked pleas around him. 'Swallow it all.' He erupted, forcing her to gulp his load, excess spilling from her lips.

This cycled for two hours—pussy, ass, mouth, rotations brutal. In one ass session, he bent her over the bed's edge, pounding while fingering her pussy, making her squirt unwillingly amid cries. Pussy fucks grew sloppier, cum squelching out with each thrust. Mouth uses left her jaw aching, voice hoarse from begging. Rohan moaned constantly, 'Fuck yes, cousin pussy,' while Amishu devolved to whimpers, body limp.

Kriti’s phone trembled in her hand, screen showing every violation. Worry clawed her—Amishu broken, family shattered. Bad, so bad. Yet she watched till the end, her own climax hitting shamefully.

Midway through a final pussy pounding, Rohan grabbed his phone, dialing video. 'Guys, check this—fucking my hot cousin.' Two faces appeared: his friends, eyes wide. 'Holy shit, Rohan! She's tight?' He angled the camera, showing Amishu's tear-streaked face, then her spread legs as he thrust. 'Virgin till now. Watch me cum inside.' She sobbed, 'No—don't show!' But he did, grunting as he unloaded deep, pulling out to display the creampie. 'See that? Dripping out.' The call lasted an hour, him demoing her holes—fingering her ass on cam, making her suck briefly, sharing close-ups of bruises and bites. 'Wanna enjoy? Come tomorrow night.' They whooped agreement. He ended the call, collapsing beside the exhausted girl.

Kriti slammed her phone down, heart pounding. What had she let happen?

Morning light filtered in. Kriti poured tea, eyeing them at breakfast. Rohan shoveled food, Amishu poked at hers, silent. 'Sleep well, you two?' Kriti asked, voice light. Rohan shrugged. 'Yeah, fine.' Amishu stared at her plate, no words. Kriti’s gaze caught the purple love bite blooming on her neck, the way she winced sitting, subtle limps. Cries hidden in her downcast eyes. Guilt surged—Kriti knew, but said nothing.

Evening came. Doorbell rang; Rohan answered, letting in two boys—his friends, backpacks slung like cover. 'Hey, Kriti,' one said. 'Here to study with Rohan.' She nodded, forcing a smile. 'Kitchen's free.' But she knew—their smirks, Rohan's wink. As they headed to the room, Kriti retreated to hers, locking the door, phone ready.

Feed activated: Amishu on the bed in nightie, cornered. 'What—friends? Rohan, no!' The three stripped her turn by turn. First Rohan yanked off her top, exposing breasts; a friend—tall one—pinned her arms, sucking nipples while the other filmed on his phone. 'Smile for the camera, little slut.' She twisted, 'Stop! Please, let me go!' They laughed, clothes shedding.

Rohan went first again, bending her over, cock slamming her pussy. 'Who's first hole?' The tall one took her mouth, forcing deep. 'Suck it good.' Short one waited, stroking. Amishu gagged, tears flowing, begging around the dick, 'Mmmph—no more!' They rotated: tall one in her ass now, rough and deep, while Rohan fucked her pussy, short one in mouth. Triple penetration—her body rocked between them, holes stretched, cries constant. 'Hurts! Begging you—stop!'

They came in waves: Rohan flooding her pussy first, pulling out for the camera to catch the overflow. Tall one yanked from ass, spraying her face, then shoving back in mouth for the swallow. Short one finished in her ass, plugging with fingers to hold it. Videos rolled, flashes capturing every angle—her spread wide, cum-glazed skin, bruises multiplying.

Turns blurred: One held her legs for the next to pound pussy, another filming close-ups of her clit swelling. They double-teamed her ass once, two cocks stretching impossibly, her screams peaking. 'Can't—too much! Cousins, friends—please!' Mouth never empty, cum gulped after gulp. She begged through it all, voice breaking, body quaking.

Hours passed in the feed, Kriti watching frozen. The gang-rape unfolded merciless—three boys using her relentlessly, cumming inside ass, pussy, mouth repeatedly. Amishu’s pleas faded to whimpers, then silence, as they finally dressed, high-fiving. 'Best study session.' Rohan kissed her forehead mockingly. 'Tomorrow again?'

Kriti powered off the phone, curling into bed. Worry consumed her now, the arousal gone. What had she allowed? The house silent, but screams echoed in her mind. She had to act—tomorrow. Or never.