Disclaimer
This is a work of erotic fiction. The subject is erotic in nature and may not be to your liking. The author does not endorse the lifestyle or acts that are described here. It is meant solely for the reader's pleasure. If such literature turns you off, you are requested to stop reading here. Please do not try these things at home. What may read as exciting acts may be fatal to the participants if performed in real life.

If you are still here, I hope you enjoy the story. Your comments, brickbats, and praise are all equally welcome. You can write to me at bentspoon@excite.com.
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Sister-in-law Fantasies 01 – Photo Shoot

Sandhya is a year younger to me, separated and sexy as hell. She stands at 5’4”, weights about 45 kilograms, has long, jet-black hair that falls almost to the rise of her butt, thin lips, doe eyes, 32 B cup breasts, a slender body which flares out just enough at her hips to give her a well proportioned figure. 

For reasons unknown to any of us, she remained single. All attempts to get her married were met with a hard-headed refusal. She never gave us any reasons for her decision although each one of us pressed her in our own way. 

From time to time when she would get bored of life with her parents, she would join my wife and me in the city. 

Initially I never really noticed her. She was my wife’s sister and that was it. But when you have a woman living with you over a period of time, one begins to notice her. Once I began to look at her as a “woman” and not a “sister”, I saw that she was immensely sexy and that was the beginning of my fantasies. 

Sandhya was never any trouble when she lived with us. She would spend the whole day alone in the house and never once asked us to take her out or told us about anything she wanted to do. Both my wife and I were too busy building careers and setting up our lives to think that maybe she had interests and dreams of her own. 

We included her in all out activities. She knew all our friends and went to all the parties with us. She was, by nature, an introvert and never really made any friends. 

My first real sexual thought of her was when she had left her nightdress in the bathroom after a bath. I had gone into the bathroom almost immediately and when I hung my clothes us, I saw her clothes. 

I have a fetish for the scent of a woman. So, I picked up her dress and smelt the armpits. The reaction in my crotch was instant. I found myself sporting a huge hard-on. Her smell was both musky and tangy at the same time. As a reflex, I began to stroke myself with her dress. My nose buried in her armpits, no particular fantasy in mind, I just kept stroking myself, and before I knew it, I had ejected a load of cum on her dress. 

Not surprisingly. I was very embarrassed after the act. I quickly cleaned up the cum, and left her dress where I had found it. 

But from then on I began to watch her and notice her more closely. 

However, nothing ever happened until the week when my wife had to go out of town on work. Sandhya and I were alone in the house and during that week we spoke more to each other than we had done in all the time that we had known each other. 

One evening I decided I needed to shop for some clothes, and asked her if she would like to join me. We ended up doing quite a bit of shopping, some for her. While she was shopping for clothes for herself, I found myself suggesting she pick up some jeans and t-shirts. Sandhya always wore salwars, and at times sarees. But she never wore Western clothes. She vehemently opposed the idea and I didn’t push her. 

During the weekend, I brought up the topic again. To my question, she replied that she would feel uncomfortable in them. I suggested that it was because she was not used to it. I asked her to try on some of her sister’s jeans and t-shirts. She refused, but I found the refusal wasn’t too vehement and pushed her a little more. Surprisingly she agreed. 

I chose my wife’s tightest jeans, as Sandhya was much more petite than my wife, and knowingly selected her tightest and shortest t-shirt. 

I waited in the living room while Sandhya changed. 

She came out very hesitantly. She looked awkward, because she felt awkward. 

“Not good, know?” she asked me. 

“Well if you keep your face screwed up like that, it won’t be good no matter what you wear. Why don’t you relax?”

I let my eyes wander freely over her body. I wouldn’t get this chance too often. I could ogle at her in the guise of studying what she was wearing. 

She became more uncomfortable as my gaze lingered in all the “right” places. 

“I’ll change back”, she offered. 

“No. No. Wait”, I told her. 

“I am feeling uncomfortable”, she told me. 

“No. No. You look great. We just need to make some minor adjustments”, I said, Studying her intently. 

“Open your hair”, I told her. 

“Why?”

“Just open it”, I insisted. 

She reached behind her to undo the clip that held her hair up. As she did that, the t-shirt rode up, revealing her bare stomach. 

Somewhere in that motion, our eyes met and she knew what I was up to. At that point, for some reason, she decided to enjoy the attention.

Her hair fell over her shoulders, in waves. 

“You look great”, I told her. 

The tension leaving her body was obvious. She was relaxing. 

“You think so?” she asked. 

“Definitely”, I assured her. 

“Why don’t I take some pictures of you?”

“What pictures?”

“Some glamour shots. You look like a model in those clothes. In fact, now that I think of it, you look fabulous is all clothes. Come on, just for fun, let’s take some pics.”

“No. No. How will we explain those pics?”

I liked that. She was agreeing, provided I gave her a good reason. What I also like was her attitude that this was something wrong and clandestine. 

“Believe me, nobody will see these pics. It’ll remain just between the two of us.”

“Promise?”

“Promise”

“Okay”

I rushed to pick up my digital camera. I got a couple of pics of her sitting and then some of her standing before asking her for more. 

“Why don’t you reach behind your head and hold your hair up?” I suggested. 

She reached behind and held it up clumsily. 

“No. No”, I said and went up to her. 

I reached around her, showing her how I wanted her to hold her hair up. Her breathing was warm and sensual on my neck. The good sign was that she showed no inclination to pull away from me. 

“I want you to feel sexy when you strike the pose. That comes through in the photograph. Ok?” I asked her, whispering in her ear. 

She nodded. I guess she was not confident enough to open her mouth and speak. 

I moved back to the camera, and waited. The conflicting emotions within her played out on her face. It was making me very horny just watching her discomfort. She was having to break a lot of mental barriers. 

She reached behind and pulled her hair up; the sex was oozing out of her. There was no doubt about what she was telling the camera. She was begging to be loved, caressed and ultimately fucked. 

I clicked off a few rapid shots. 

“Can you pull up so some more of your stomach can be seen?”

Her face and eyes mirrored the battle yet again. Then she complied, pushing upwards so that the t-shirt rode up higher, displaying her flat stomach. I shot off another round of clicks. 

“Can we have the jeans a little lower on your hips so that the navel is completely exposed?”

This time she readily complied. Again I shot off a few more clicks. 

The next question was crucial. 

Very casually I asked her, “Why don’t you open the button and zipper of the jeans, and lift the t-shirt so the bra can be seen?”

“Are you joking?”

“No. I told you it’s a glamour shoot. It’s a common picture, it shows nothing but promises everything. Do it only if you feel comfy.”

When she reached for her jean button I knew I had her. 

She undid the button and pulled the zipper down. She opened the flaps to either side showing her blue panties. Then she lifted her top and displayed her cream bra. She struck a sexy pose and I shot off a few pictures. 

“Why don’t you change into the pink panties and red bra? Those will contrast well with the jeans and top. The picture will be better.”

“How do you know what color underclothes I have?”

“Oh! I know exactly what you are wearing on any given day. But that is beside the point. Will you change and come?”

“Ok” she said casually and went into her room. 

She came back, undid her trousers and lifted her top again for another set of pictures. 

“How about some pics without the bra?” I asked her.

“No way. No nude pics” she said strongly. 

“Not nude. The t-shirt will be over the breast, but without the bra the nipples will show clearly. That is what I want.”

“No. This is enough. Let us stop.” 

With that she went into her room and changed into her regular dowdy housecoat. 

I wonder if there will be a next time.
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