Things i regret but get aroused.

Hey guys,

Recap of story till now how it started 

This is something I still regret but it gets me so aroused even today.

It was 2013. I was 18, living in our joint family house. We were a strict Muslim religious family. Our house had me, my elder sister Sajda, Mom, Dad, Uncle and Aunt.

One day Adil (23), son of Shamim Aunty, came over like usual. He used to help my Uncle with official documents.

That afternoon, while walking through the narrow alley behind our house, I overheard Adil bragging to his friends about secretly watching my sister Sajda bathe through the broken bathroom door. He described how water ran down her smooth fair skin, how her heavy breasts swayed, the curve of her wide hips, and especially that small dark mole on her right ass cheek. His voice dripped with lust.

Before that, I had never seen Sajda in any dirty way. She was just my bossy elder didi — the religious, pure one who scolded me for staying up late, fought with me over TV, and badmouthed girls in the alley who roamed with boys. But after overhearing Adil, everything flipped. Innocent thoughts vanished. Now every time she walked past in her loose salwar kameez, my eyes locked on the sway of her hips and the way her breasts jiggled under the fabric. I couldn’t stop picturing her naked — water dripping over her fair skin, those big tits bouncing, and that tempting dark mole right on her soft right ass cheek.

The guilt crushed me. She was my own sister in a strict Muslim family — this was so wrong. Yet no matter how hard I fought it, my cock throbbed rock hard. Every night I stroked slowly, replaying that forbidden bathroom scene Adil had stolen. Shame burned inside, but the arousal burned hotter. I couldn’t stop.

My regret started melting one evening when I secretly glimpsed a flirty, dirty message on her phone from some unknown boy. My pure, religious didi — who never talked to boys and always judged alley girls for roaming with them — was secretly chatting and teasing him. The messages were nothing like the modest sister everyone knew. He wrote how much he loved her lips, how he wanted to kiss them, bite them, suck on them. Those words hit me like Adil’s description of her naked body.

I started comparing everything. If Adil was wrong for peeking at her bathing, how was this boy wrong for wanting to devour her lips? And how was Sajda any better than the girls she loved to shame?

Now I was angry… and way more turned on. The guilt faded fast, replaced by pure throbbing lust. My cock got harder than ever imagining my religious didi secretly acting like such a slut behind closed doors.

Before that message, Sajda was the ideal Muslim girl in my eyes — always following customs, offering namaz five times a day, wearing modest clothes at home and never stepping out without her burkha. She never talked to unknown boys, always kept her gaze down, and acted so pure and pious. But after seeing those dirty texts, I started noticing every single activity of hers in a completely new way.

Although she wore modest clothes around the family, I now noticed that when she went out to give tuition to kids at their homes, she wore tight leggings and kurti. Even her burkha looked tight, clearly showing the shape of her body underneath. The alley boys she badmouthed all day never got a nice view from her — but she purposely took routes where multiple guys were sitting and openly commenting on her. And fuck… she loved every bit of it.

I also noticed during Adil’s visits to our home, Sajda would secretly notice him looking at her in that hungry way. She never said anything, but I saw the way she would adjust her dupatta a little slower, or how her cheeks would flush slightly while pretending to be busy. She knew exactly what he was staring at… and deep down, she seemed to enjoy it.

Sajda also noticed Adil hanging out with those same alley boys who commented on her on the way home, but she never complained to him or anyone in the family. She just kept acting all pure and pious like nothing was happening.

Things went from bad to worse one day when I came back from tuition and found the whole house in chaos. Mummy had caught Adil staring at Sajda’s body while she was bathing. She was arguing loudly with Shamim Chachi, blaming her for letting Adil keep coming to our home. Dad looked completely broken, sitting there with his head in his hands. Tabrez Chacha was trying to calm everyone down, warning that if word got out, Sajda’s name would be completely spoilt in the family and neighbourhood.

After a lot of shouting and crying, things finally calmed down with one agreement — Adil would never visit our home again.

While everyone else was shattered and tense, I noticed Sajda standing in front of the mirror in her wet clothes. She had a small smile on her face as she looked at her own body — amazed and clearly enjoying the way the wet fabric clung to her heavy breasts and wide hips, showing every curve.