Once I have read a graffiti that said, 'to err is human, but isn't it divine!'


It was a small family, a happy, upper middle class, urban family. Ranganath, the head of the family was a successful, practicing, forty five year old lawyer. His wife Sujatha (42) was a typical, South Indian middle class home maker more in the conservative mould. Their daughter Shanthi (23) was doing her post graduation in Arts and their son Sekhar (20) was doing his graduation in Engineering.

Shanthi was average looking, a little short at 5'1" and slim. She had a severe look about her, an introvert and was rather reserved and that didn help her looks either. She was, however, intelligent and did well in her studies but had very few friends. She mostly kept to herself.

Sekhar was quite the opposite, as often happens with siblings. He was tall at 5'10" and well built, an extrovert, outgoing and friendly. Less intelligent than his sister, he did alright with his academics, had lots of friends and hobbies and was always busy.

The siblings were not close to each other and lived in their own worlds which were poles apart. There was no friction or fights but neither was there any evidence of excessive love and affection.

The family was bound together by Sujatha. She loved all of them dearly and made their lives absolutely comfortable. As a matter of fact they constituted her whole universe and her life revolved around them. From early morning to late night, she toiled to make their lives comfortable and happy.

Ranganath, though loved his wife dearly, hardly had any time for her because he was totally busy with his professional work. Shanthi and Sekhar loved their mother but took her services and abundant affection for granted. As often happens in Indian households, the mother's selfless services are taken for granted and hardly ever praised.

Life was going on smoothly for the Ranganath Family and all was well till that fateful day. It was a Saturday in the monsoon month of August and quite early in the morning. Sujatha realized that there were not enough fresh vegetables at home. There was a persistent drizzle and the roads were practically empty at that hour.

Under the cover of her umbrella, she walked with quick steps to the small vegetable market that was just a kilometer away. Immersed in her thoughts, she rounded the bend in the road and was crossing to the other side, when the municipality truck that was driven by an apprentice hit her.

Sujatha had no chance and died on the spot.

The world suddenly became topsy turvy for the Ranganath family. It was as if the sun around which their solar system revolved had suddenly disappeared. For the next thirteen days, till all the religious rituals were completed as per the Hindu dharma, the family was in a daze, with relatives and friends helping them out at every stage. At the end of the period they were left alone to grieve the departed lady.

An old widowed aunt of Ranganath stayed back to help the family and to cook food for them. Time is the best healer. Slowly, the family limped back to normalcy and Shanthi took charge of the household. Without even realizing it, she started filling the role of her departed mother.

The relationship between the siblings underwent a dramatic change. Traumatized by the sudden death of their mother, they instantly closed their gap and sought mutual comfort and security. Shanthi had matured overnight and started mothering Sekhar, looking after all his needs just as their mother did. Sekhar, in turn, was grateful that his sister quickly filled the vacuum left by his mother. Life slowly returned to a level of normalcy, though nowhere near the happy days of the past.

Shanthi was basically a plain looking girl. She was short at 5'1". Her breasts were small, waist was slim and her behind was compact. She had a nice face that was more oval than rounded and looked nice when she smiled. But the problem was she rarely smiled. Though she was twenty three, due to strict upbringing and her own intrinsic fears, she kept away from boys and sex.

Her sexual desires were normal and occasionally she masturbated in the safe privacy of her bathroom after much deliberation and preparation. It was rarely satisfying except releasing some pressure and she remained basically a 'repressed woman.'

In the past she had always confined herself to her room and rarely went to her brother's room. But now, in her new role, she spent some time in her brother's room, tidying it up daily. She became aware of his clothes, his shoes, his books and umpteen other things. She loved the masculine feel of all those things.

One day, when Sekhar was away, she set about tidying up his room. While properly arranging his pressed clothes in his wardrobe, she came across the drawers where he kept his underwear and bunions. All of them were Jockey brand and mostly white; a few colored. Suddenly she felt the urge to take a Jockey short in her hand and feel it.

Before she realized it, her hands took possession of one of her brother's Jockey briefs and started caressing it. Her breath quickened and she felt her blood rushing. Her fingers were frantic now and they found the opening in the shorts front. Shutting her eyes tightly, she pushed her fingers into the opening, imagining what lay behind when her brother wore it.

She felt her own heat emanating between her legs and the feeling of wetness there. Involuntarily, her hands, still holding the shorts, moved to the junction of her thighs. As she pressed his shorts against her mound through all those layers of clothing, a deep sigh escaped her.

With a quick move she reached under her sari and petticoat and pushed the jockey short of her brother against her own cotton panties and started rubbing it. She was literally crying now with the pleasure and passion, in throes of an impending orgasm. Fortunately for her, no one was at home except the old lady in down stairs kitchen, the one who could hardly hear. Any case, Shanthi was past caring.

Quickly she pushed the jockey short, by now a ball, under the side of her panties and directly on to her virginal pussy. Crying with passion, she rubbed it vigorously on her wet nether lips and her clitoris, visualizing for the first time her brother's cock in her hands. Her whole body shook with a mammoth orgasm and she reeled under its intensity and fell flat on her brother's bed.

For the rest of the day, Shanthi was greatly disturbed and agitated. Her upbringing and all the morals drilled into her by her conservative mother told her in no uncertain terms that she sinned; sinned badly. It was bad enough to masturbate, but to entertain such incestuous thoughts about her younger brother was a much bigger sin, her conscience told her. The feeling of guilt welled up.

On the other hand, she had experienced the biggest orgasm of her life thus far and she could feel the aftershocks for a long time. It was such a sweet experience and pleasure that her body kept longing for an encore since then. With such clashing thoughts, Shanthi went through the day as if in a daze.

That night she tossed in her bed a long time. Finally, she succumbed to the demands of her body and did something that was unthinkable previously.

First of all she shut the door to her bedroom and bolted it from inside. She removed all her clothes and stood in front of her mirror. Earlier in the day, she had carefully washed and dried her brother's jockey short and hidden it in her wardrobe along with a white bunion of his. She was sure that her brother wouldn't miss them because he had so many of them.

Standing in front of the mirror she examined her breasts. They were small but firm and well shaped. Her aureole was the size of a rupee coin and her small nipples were soft and pink. She took her brother's bunion and held it upright in her hands, its front facing her. Slowly she brought the cotton bunion to her naked breasts and started massaging them slowly with it.

Shutting her eyes, she visualized her brother's broad and manly chest with its sparse hair rubbing against her small breasts. She felt her nipples stiffen, lengthen and harden. She started tweaking them lightly with her brother's bunion using her own thumb and forefinger. Her left hand stayed there massaging her tits by rote while her right hand moved on.

Putting her right palm on the underside of his Jockey brief's opening, she started rubbing it on her young shaven pussy. Her pink lips quivered at the touch and opened shyly at the tender and caring rub. Shanthi's breathe quickened and so did her pulse. Looking into the mirror, she slowly pushed her three fingers bunched together, through the short's opening, simulating an erect male penis.

As here bunched fingers reached the pink opening of her pussy lips, Shanthi's thoughts were full of Sekhar's young and erect cock that she had never seen. It was his cock that was now entering her virginal cunt, she thought, as she whimpered and moaned with desire. She quickly fell on to her bed on her back.

Opening her slim legs wide apart, she pushed her fingers deep into her tight, squishy cunt and wiggled them with a hunger, hither to unknown. Softly, she moaned, "Fuck me Sekhar, my dearest brother and my lover. Fuck me with your big cock, please."

She cried out loud, muffling the noise against the pillow, as her body shuddered and shook with spasms, as a massive orgasm literally flooded her young cunt. She lost all her senses for a couple of minutes and drifted into oblivion.

She got up a little later and went to the bathroom, cleaned up and then put on her nightie. When she went to bed, she felt very relaxed and satisfied. She realized that her new found fetish has greatly enhanced her pleasure and she would continue doing it. She drifted into sleep soon.

Over the next few days Shanthi changed subtly. Both her father and brother noted that she had mellowed and lost here 'severe' look.