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In the morning I called on my sister phone to go home as we have to return for wedding by being freshen but found switched off. Then I went home alone only after few hours my sister came home I said to get freshen if she wanted to go for wedding she replied she had been tired and didn’t wanted to go for that I said okay and went for wedding after meeting Rakesh and greeting him for his wedding he gave me a envelope I looked at him he whispered in my ears that now he had won the bet when I opened the cover of envelope I found a DVD written with sketch pen Your Sister Got Fucked. I shocked there only went to my home leaving the wedding ceremony I went to my room closed the door and window and played DVD. I saw a girl in white saari facing wall I could see her face and Rakesh were standing behind him and were removing his shirt.Now he was standing only in his pants and his upper body was nude his chest and muscles visible made him more attractive then he sounded my sister name Salma. That night she had worn a light cotton dress with just a couple of spaghetti straps on her shoulders. I pushed the straps down, and as I did her ample breasts came into view. Wasting no time I leaned down planting kisses all over them. I could tell she was looking around nervously but after a moment I saw her eyes close. He pouty lips puffed out as I sucked and licked on her breasts. I knew she was getting excited.As I continued to work on her breasts I let a hand go up her dress and soon found the front of her panties to be quite damp. This caused me to moan and my cock started to get hard. I moved her panties aside and soon began to glide my finger over he swollen clit.Surprisingly instead of stopping me I felt her open her legs a little more. A few minutes more of this attention to her body and I could feel her starting to convulse a little. Suddenly I heard her moan loud as she held onto the walkway support for stability and came hard on my finger, her pussy gushing as she came.
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“That’s ok,” she said, casually lifting her shoulders, pulling on her cigarette and fiddling with the buttons on her blouse, an impossible cleavage bubbling between two mountainous breasts, her smile mischievous and her voice laden with flirtatious innuendo. “There’s a particular bush that needs some special care and attention,” she smiled, dropping her cigarette into a drain and walking back into the house. A clipboard and a pen in one hand and his tape measure in the other, Brenda following quickly on his heels like a bothersome fly, a glass of wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other, her life story unfolding in his wake. Stepping from the living-room and into a brightly lit entrance hall, a framed photograph of a man and woman on a small table next to an imposing grandfather clock caught his eye. There was no mistaking Brenda in the photograph. He presumed the man must have been her husband. ‘He looked familiar,’ he thought, pausing to study the photograph, scanning.

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