Sunita Aunty’s Secret Recipe

Categories: Aunty, Devar-Bhabhi, Kitchen Sex, Mature Housewife, Bangalore

Sunita aunty was the heart of the family. At 45, the Bangalore homemaker was everyone’s favorite — always smiling, full of wise advice, and famous for her mouth-watering aloo paratha and chicken curry. Her husband was away on a week-long business trip to Mumbai, so her devar Rahul (26, working in IT) came to “keep her company.”

The first few days were innocent. Rahul helped with groceries, ate her delicious food, and listened to her stories. But he couldn’t ignore how sexy she looked in her simple cotton sarees — pallu slipping to reveal deep cleavage, soft mature belly peeking above petticoat.

One night, around 11 PM, Rahul couldn’t sleep. He went to the kitchen for water and found Sunita aunty making hot chocolate, wearing a thin nighty that hugged her full figure.

“Rahul beta, can’t sleep?” she asked with her warm smile, stirring the pot.

He stared — her heavy breasts swayed freely, nipples faintly visible through the fabric.

“Aunty… you look… beautiful,” he blurted.

She blushed but didn’t cover up. “Arre, old woman like me?”

He stepped closer. “Not old. Perfect.”

The air thickened. She turned off the stove, hands trembling.

Rahul took the spoon from her, tasted the chocolate from her finger. Then he kissed her — soft at first, then deep.

“Aunty… I’ve wanted this so long…”

She moaned softly. “Rahul… this is wrong… but… don’t stop.”

He lifted her onto the kitchen counter, saree hiking up thick thighs. His hands explored her soft belly, then cupped her massive breasts, pinching nipples until she gasped.

He dropped to his knees, pushed her petticoat up, pulled panties aside. Her pussy was hairy, wet, smelling of desire. His tongue licked slowly — tasting her like her homemade sweets.

“Beta… ahh… yes… lick aunty there…”

She came hard, thighs clamping his head, juices on his chin.

Then she wanted more. She slid down, unzipped him. His young cock was rock hard, thicker than her husband’s.

“Feed aunty,” she whispered, taking him deep in her warm mouth, sucking with years of hidden experience.

Rahul groaned, hands in her hair.

He bent her over the counter — pallu fully down now, blouse open, breasts swinging as he entered from behind.

Slow at first… then faster. Deep strokes hitting spots her husband never reached.

“Fuck your aunty… harder beta… make me yours…”

The kitchen filled with wet slaps and her moans. He pounded relentlessly, one hand rubbing her clit.

She came again, pussy milking him.

Rahul pulled out, spun her around, came hot ropes across her breasts and belly.

They panted, chocolate forgotten.

Sunita aunty wiped herself with her pallu, smiling shyly.

“Tomorrow… I’ll make your favorite biryani. And maybe… dessert?”

The hunger is just beginning…