That night, Pradip saw a very strange dream.
It was about that girl—
His uncle's daughter.
Only nineteen years old.
Her name was Sangini.
Pradip used to teasingly call her "Petni," meaning ghost girl.
Late in the night, he heard someone knocking on the door, and the sound woke him from sleep.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
When he opened the door, he saw Sangini standing outside.
She was wearing a beautiful bright red sari.
The moment the door opened, Sangini silently stepped inside the room without saying a single word.
His uncle's daughter. Nineteen years old. The girl he had teasingly called "Petni" for years—ghost girl—because of her quiet, ethereal way of moving and her pale, luminous skin. Tonight, she looked nothing like the shy cousin who avoided his gaze at family functions.
She wore a beautiful bright red sari, the kind meant for brides and special nights. The fabric shimmered like fresh blood under moonlight, draped elegantly over her slender frame. The pallu had slipped slightly off one shoulder, revealing the smooth curve of her collarbone and the delicate gold chain resting against her throat. Her long black hair was loose, falling past her waist in soft waves. A small bindi adorned her forehead, and her lips were painted a deep rose. She looked older than her nineteen years—seductive, almost otherworldly.
Without a single word, Sangini stepped inside the room the moment the door opened. Her bare feet made no sound on the floor. The scent of jasmine and sandalwood trailed after her, filling the small space.
Pradip's mouth went dry. "Sangini… what are you doing here?"
She said nothing. Her dark eyes, lined with kajal, met his with quiet intensity. There was a strange hunger in them, mixed with something shy and uncertain.
A sudden, powerful sensation surged between his legs. Heat pooled low in his belly as blood rushed downward. He was instantly, achingly hard beneath the thin fabric of his lungi. The sight of her in that red sari—his forbidden cousin, the girl he had only ever teased—ignited something primal.
He moved closer, almost involuntarily. His hand reached out and boldly cupped her round butt through the silky sari. The flesh was firm yet yielding, warm under his palm. Sangini's breath hitched. A faint blush colored her cheeks, and she looked down, suddenly shy, biting her lower lip. But she didn't pull away.
Emboldened, Pradip squeezed gently, feeling the curve of her ass. "Petni…" he whispered, using the old nickname, but this time his voice was thick with desire. "You look… incredible."
He pulled her closer until her breasts pressed against his chest. Even through the layers of fabric, he could feel their softness. Sangini's hands rose hesitantly, resting on his shoulders. Her touch was cool at first, then warming.
Pradip leaned in and kissed her. Her lips were soft, tasting faintly of paan and sweetness. She responded slowly, shyly at first, then with growing eagerness as their mouths moved together. His tongue slipped past her lips, exploring, and she let out a tiny, muffled whimper that sent another jolt straight to his cock.
He kicked the door shut behind her and locked it with a decisive click. The sound echoed in the quiet room like a promise.
"Come," he murmured against her mouth, guiding her toward the bed.
They tumbled onto the thin mattress together. Pradip's hands roamed greedily over her body, tracing the curves he had only ever imagined in passing guilty thoughts. He tugged at the pallu of her sari, pulling it away to reveal the tight black blouse beneath. Her breasts strained against the fabric, nipples already visible as hardened peaks. He cupped one breast, thumb circling the nipple through the cloth, drawing a soft gasp from her.
Sangini's shyness melted away as the dream deepened. She arched into his touch, her fingers threading through his hair as he kissed down her neck, sucking lightly at the sensitive skin. His other hand slid down her waist, over the swell of her hip, and back to her ass, squeezing harder this time.
"You feel so good," he groaned.
He helped her out of the sari with urgent but trembling hands. The red fabric pooled on the floor like spilled wine. Beneath it, she wore only a simple petticoat and blouse. Pradip unhooked the blouse, letting her breasts spill free—full, round, with dusky pink nipples begging for attention. He took one into his mouth, sucking and licking while his hand kneaded the other. Sangini moaned softly, her back arching off the bed, pressing herself closer.
Her hands grew bolder. She reached down and untied his lungi, freeing his erection. It sprang up, thick and throbbing. Her fingers wrapped around him, stroking tentatively at first, then with more confidence. The coolness of her palm against his burning heat made him hiss with pleasure.
Pradip pushed the petticoat down her legs, revealing her smooth thighs and the dark triangle between them. She was already wet. He could see the glistening arousal on her folds. He slipped a finger between them, rubbing her clit in slow circles. Sangini gasped, her thighs parting wider for him.
"Please…" she whispered, the first word she had spoken in the dream.
That single word broke whatever restraint remained.
Pradip positioned himself between her legs. He rubbed the head of his cock against her slick entrance, teasing her for a moment, watching her face flush with need. Then he pushed in slowly, inch by inch, savoring the tight, velvety heat that enveloped him. Sangini cried out softly, her nails digging into his shoulders as he stretched her.
Once fully seated, he paused, breathing hard, letting her adjust. Their eyes met—his filled with raw lust, hers with shy surrender and desire. He began to move, slow deep thrusts at first that made the old bed creak rhythmically. Each stroke drew soft moans from her lips.
The pace quickened. Pradip gripped her hips, driving into her harder. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, along with their mingled gasps and moans. He leaned down to kiss her breasts, sucking on her nipples while pounding deeper. Sangini wrapped her legs around his waist, heels pressing into his lower back, urging him on.
"You're so tight… so perfect," he panted.
He flipped them so she was on top. Sangini straddled him, the red sari pallu still partially tangled around one arm. She looked like a vision—hair wild, lips swollen, breasts bouncing as she rode him. Her hands rested on his chest for balance while she moved her hips in a sensual rhythm, grinding down on him, taking him as deep as possible.
Pradip's hands roamed everywhere—squeezing her ass, pinching her nipples, rubbing her clit to heighten her pleasure. Her moans grew louder, more desperate. He could feel her tightening around him, her body trembling on the edge.
When she came, it was beautiful. Her head fell back, mouth open in a silent cry, her inner walls pulsing and squeezing him rhythmically. The sight and sensation pushed Pradip over the edge. With a deep groan, he thrust up hard and released inside her, wave after wave of hot pleasure flooding through him.
They stayed locked together for long moments, breathing heavily. Pradip pulled her down into his arms, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her lips with surprising tenderness. Sangini nestled against his chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin.
The night continued in the dream—slow, exploratory touches turning into another round of passionate lovemaking. He took her from behind this time, admiring the curve of her back and the way her ass jiggled with each thrust. Then once more with her legs over his shoulders, going deeper than before. They explored each other's bodies with hands, mouths, and whispered words of pleasure. Time stretched luxuriously in the dream, every sensation heightened.
By the time the dream began to fade, Pradip felt utterly spent yet strangely fulfilled. Sangini lay curled against him, the red sari partially covering them both like a shared blanket. She smiled shyly at him one last time before the knocking sound returned—only this time it was distant, pulling him back toward waking.
Pradip's eyes opened in the real world. His room was dark and quiet, the fan still spinning. His heart raced, and his body was covered in sweat. Between his legs, he felt the sticky evidence of what had happened in the dream.
He stared at the ceiling, breathing hard.
Just a dream… but it had felt so real.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, the image of Sangini in that bright red sari refused to fade.