Hi friends, I’m back with another story. This one is about my sister, who would sleep with any random guy once she was attracted to him or fascinated by the size of his penis. I’m sure she’s definitely used to huge dicks; that’s why she would peek at men peeing by the roadside or anywhere else where she could get a view of their genitals.

This story involves my younger sister, myself, our mom and dad, and my two other sisters, Sharda and Sarita. We live in a village in Uttar Pradesh, in the northern part of the country. My village is slightly far from the city area, though the people are still modern, hardworking, and ambitious. Among the sisters, Sharda (21) is the eldest and is just a year younger than me. She is too shy to engage in or perform any sexual activity.

She is so shy that she wouldn’t go out alone because she couldn’t handle people looking directly at her body. Her figure is slightly curvy, though she looks really hot in a tight kurta suit. Sarita, the youngest of all, is 19. She is quite sexy, with an average body but good breasts and buttocks. She has an open mind and usually gets involved in conversations with guys.

People in our village are quite friendly. They don’t think much of a girl talking to local men because we form relationships based on mutual convenience—a sort of arrangement that villagers understand well. Sarita is more open about sex than I had ever imagined. Even though she is only 19, she looks for guys who possess strong manhood.

Our main occupation is agriculture. We have plenty of land where we cultivate crops for both living and luxury. Besides this, we have a mango orchard (bagh) in the northern part of the village. Next to the orchard flows a river. The riverbank is dense with bushes and groves of different trees, stretching for miles along the bank. On the way to the orchard, there is a brick factory that has recently grown larger, likely due to the quality of its bricks.

In the past few months, I’ve seen people from different parts of the district—and even other states—come there to work. They stay there at night, forming small huts for different groups. Many of these men are alone and away from their wives. These workers are generally between 30 and 35 years old, physically well-built, and hardworking. During the mango season, I noticed my sister Sarita eager to go to the orchard to look after the mangoes that were not yet fully developed.

My parents were usually busy with field work, and my elder sister stayed home for household chores. Dad appointed me for this task, but Sarita insisted that she would be happy doing it. She even said she would take her books along so she could study while looking after the mangoes.

Her insistence created doubts in my mind. From the very next day, I started stalking her. I was confident that something was going on in her mind, so I followed her at a distance, making sure she wouldn’t notice me. The first few days were normal. Nothing exciting happened, except that I saw my sister eyeing a group of workers who were bathing in the river. After finishing their bath, they walked out to the banks, changed into their lungis and shirts, and had taken off their underwear to dry them. They walked through the orchard, passing the place where my sister was sitting. They even stared at her, but neither side managed to start a conversation. For another couple of weeks, nothing seemed to happen besides the workers coming for their baths.

I started thinking that all this was just a misconception on my part, that I was reading into it wrong. I began to feel slightly bored because everything was happening contrary to what I had imagined in my mind. But then, I realized that this group of workers must be the target of my sister’s interest. So, I resumed spying on her. A few days passed, and despite some efforts from the workers to talk to my sister under the pretext of discussing the mangoes, I couldn’t see much happening.

I could see her getting excited whenever they tried talking to her. I had to maintain a specific distance to avoid being caught by my younger sister, which meant I couldn’t exactly figure out what they were saying. The next day, I tried to get even closer to where she usually sat. I noticed that the guys had already started teasing her; they would carelessly walk past her when heading back to the brick factory.

They wore wet underwear (kachchhas), which clearly outlined their penises. I found my sister enjoying the view. They would ask her jokingly if the mangoes were ripe enough for them to eat. In return, she would say yes in a teasing manner and add, “They are not yet ripe, but they’re full of juice. You just need to grab one and squeeze it.” I guessed the workers weren’t foolish enough not to understand the motive behind her words.

A few days passed like this. Now, the audacity of the workers increased as they received clear signals from my sister. Some would go sit next to her while returning, while others walked directly back to the factory. That day, after Sarita returned home, I looked for an even closer and safer spot to observe her usual sitting place so I could hear them properly and see what they were up to. I found a bushy area about ten meters from where she sat.

The next day, I hurried there and hid before she arrived at her spot. While the workers were bathing, Sarita was loitering around the riverbank. When they were about to finish, she took her usual seat. As the workers headed back to the factory, a few of the more lusty and daring ones stayed behind, chatting with her. They sat so casually that their penises were almost visible through their thin cloth underwear.

I could see her eyes darting repeatedly toward their genitals, almost as if she were calculating their size. Meanwhile, two guys came closer to the bush and started peeing. I could see their massive black penises as they faced toward me. I held my breath and watched them urinate. They talked about my sister, her youth, and their luck if they could fuck her, and my luck that no one saw me. After they finished, they went back and sat near her, resuming their conversation.

I heard one of them say that the mangoes were slightly bigger now and that he wanted to grab one and squeeze all its juice into his mouth. He said this while staring directly at her breasts. She replied, “Obviously, you can, if you get the chance to grab one.” This made them all giggle. The conversation shifted to the river. Someone brought up how she had been watching them from the bank top and suggested why she didn’t join them instead.

She said she didn’t know how to swim, which was why she just enjoyed watching them swim from the bank. One of the three men said they could help her learn. Her reply was that she was too shy to join them in front of so many men. They concluded that they would teach her how to swim the next day, starting a bit late after the others had returned to the factory. She readily agreed, showing that she was genuinely interested in swimming.