The Facebook Deception: From Sisterly Friendship to Intimacy

My name is Rajiv, and I’m a 22-year-old resident of Dehradun. I work at a company, while my sister is 24 years old – two years older than me. I harbored a secret desire for my sister, often gazing at her body with lustful intent. Sometimes, I would question the morality of my thoughts, but then I’d convince myself that “what happens in the house stays in the house.”

I would try to catch glimpses of her changing clothes or bathing, and I succeeded in seeing her intimate areas on occasion. However, my ultimate goal was to have sex with her. Several times, I attempted to befriend her, but she would rebuff me, asking what I was doing and why I was touching her inappropriately. This fear of getting caught by our father kept me from pursuing things further.

One day, an idea struck me: why not become friends with her on Facebook? I created a fake profile, using a handsome photo copied from the internet and crafting a convincing persona – a well-educated manager at a company. Knowing my sister’s Facebook profile, I sent her a friend request. After numerous attempts, she finally accepted.

I started commenting on all her posts, showering her with compliments and praise. For almost a month, I consistently engaged with her content, praising her pictures, poems, and everything else she shared. This constant attention fueled my desire for her. Then, I decided to take the next step.

One day, I messaged her, saying that I was going to Rishikesh for work and asked if she could meet me at a hotel. I gave her ten days’ notice, and she agreed. Our conversations became increasingly sexual over the next few days. After five days of this, I convinced her to engage in a webcam chat, but with one condition: neither of us would show our faces on camera, only the parts below the neck. We decided to meet face-to-face at the hotel. She agreed, and for the next five days, I was able to see her entire body. I was consumed by lust, seeing her every day, but now I could finally experience her physically.

Two days before my planned trip, I told my parents that I had to go out of town for work. My sister also concocted a story about needing to study outside the house for an exam. Our father is in the army and rarely home, while our mother is a housewife – easily manipulated with excuses about studies. My mother agreed to let her go out for a day.

I left on March 22nd, and my sister left on March 23rd. I had already given her the hotel address and told her I’d been staying there for the past seven days. Around 8 pm that evening, she arrived at the hotel and knocked on my door. My heart pounded with a mixture of fear and excitement. What if she recognized me? What would she think?

I stood there for three or four minutes, agonizing over these thoughts before finally opening the door. My sister stood there, stunned. She looked at me in disbelief and exclaimed, “You?” Tears welled up in her eyes as she started cursing me, calling me a disgrace for behaving this way with her, my own sister.

I invited her inside, offered her water, and apologized. She sat silently for about ten minutes before finally speaking, “Your… your manhood is so big,” she said, breaking into a laugh.

I realized then that she was pretending to be angry. I pulled her into my arms and kissed her passionately. She responded with equal fervor. We closed the door, lay on the bed, and continued kissing.

“What’s the rush?” she whispered. “Tonight, we are husband and wife.” She added, “I’m hungry. Let’s go eat something outside.”

We went out for dinner, holding hands as we walked back to the hotel. As soon as we were inside, we shed our clothes and my sister took my penis in her mouth, sucking on it like ice cream. I ran my fingers through her hair and we lay down on the bed. The rest of the night was a blur of passion. My sister was a virgin, and there was a lot of blood. We made love four times that night.

Now, every two months, I feel the urge to be with her again. Her exams are coming up soon, and you can imagine what that means for both of us. I won’t say much more about my sister. After all, she is still my sister.