My name is Rahul Desai, 23 years old, working as a software engineer in Ahmedabad. This is the story of how a family wedding in Surat became the backdrop for the most forbidden and passionate chapter of my life with my cousin sister Nisha. Nisha was 18, just finished her 12th grade, and was the epitome of youthful innocence—fair skin glowing like porcelain, long black braids that reached her waist, almond-shaped eyes lined with natural kohl, and a body that had blossomed into perfection. Her 34C breasts were perky and full, straining against her choli during the festivities, her waist slim and hips flaring into a round, firm ass that swayed gracefully in her lehenga. Growing up, we'd seen each other at family gatherings, playing as kids, but as teenagers, there was always an unspoken spark—stolen glances, playful touches that lingered too long.
The wedding was for our uncle—lavish, spread over five days in a sprawling beach resort near Surat. Hundreds of relatives, colorful tents, live music, and endless food. Rooms were overbooked, and due to a last-minute cancellation, Nisha and I were assigned to share a luxury suite. It had two queen beds, a balcony overlooking the Arabian Sea, and a private jacuzzi. "Bhaiya, it's okay na? Hum cousins hain," she said shyly when we entered, her cheeks flushing. I nodded, trying not to stare at her in her travel salwar kameez, the dupatta slipping to reveal cleavage.
The first day was the mehendi ceremony. Nisha sat with the girls, hands adorned with intricate designs, laughing. I watched from afar, her smile lighting up the room. That evening, after dinner, we returned to the suite exhausted. She changed in the bathroom, emerging in a simple cotton nightie that hugged her curves, no bra, nipples faintly visible in the dim light. I was in shorts and t-shirt. We chatted on her bed—about school, my job, her dreams of becoming a fashion designer. "Bhaiya, aapki girlfriend hai?" she asked innocently. "Nahi, time nahi milta," I lied, my eyes drifting to her legs crossed under the nightie.
As the AC hummed, she complained of shoulder ache from sitting all day. "Massage kar do na, bhaiya." I sat behind her, hands on her shoulders, rubbing gently. The fabric was thin; I felt her warm skin. My fingers drifted lower, grazing the tops of her breasts. She sighed deeply, leaning back into me. "Kitna acha lag raha hai..." The tension cracked. I turned her face, our lips meeting in a soft kiss. She pulled away shocked, "Bhaiya... yeh kya?" But her eyes were dark with desire. I kissed her again, deeper, tongue slipping in as she moaned softly, responding hesitantly at first, then hungrily.
I laid her back, lifting her nightie to reveal her bare body—perfect tits, flat stomach, shaved pussy already glistening. "Nisha... kitni sundar hai tu," I whispered, cupping her breasts, thumbs circling nipples. She gasped, "Chhu lo bhaiya... please." I sucked one nipple, flicking with my tongue while kneading the other, her body arching, hands in my hair. "Ahhh... zor se chooso... dard nahi ho raha."
She reached for my shorts, pulling them down, eyes widening at my thick 7.5-inch cock. "Bhaiya ka... itna bada." She stroked shyly, soft hands gliding over the shaft. I guided her, "Muh mein le beta." She licked the tip tentatively, then took it in, sucking gently, bobbing with increasing confidence, saliva making it slick. I groaned, "Aise hi... good girl."
I spread her legs, kissing down her body to her virgin pussy. The scent was sweet; I licked slowly, tasting her juices, tongue circling her clit while fingers probed her tightness. "Bhaiya... oh god... mat rukna... ahhhh!" She came hard, thighs clamping my head, body trembling.
I rubbed my cock along her slit. "Dalun? Dard hoga thoda." She nodded, "Haan bhaiya... apni cousin ki virginity lo." I pushed in slowly—her walls gripping, she cried out in pain, nails digging. "Dheere... par rukna mat." Once fully in, I thrust gently, building speed. Her pain turned to pleasure, "Chodo mujhe bhaiya... zor se... haan!"
We fucked passionately—missionary with deep kisses, her legs wrapped around me; cowgirl where she rode awkwardly at first, then confidently, tits bouncing; doggy with me pulling her braids, ass slapping my thighs. She came twice more, pussy clenching. "Andar daalo bhaiya... creampie kar do!" I exploded, filling her with hot cum.
We lay entwined, but the wedding continued. Sangeet night: dancing close, her hand brushing my crotch. Quickie in a bathroom stall—her lehenga hiked, me fucking from behind. Haldi ceremony: slippery bodies from turmeric, leading to jacuzzi sex that night—her riding me in bubbling water.
Over days, we explored—oral in the balcony at dawn, anal attempt (too tight, but fingering led to orgasm), role-play as bride-groom. Emotional confessions: her crush since puberty, my fantasies. By wedding end, addicted. Still meet secretly in Ahmedabad—our bond unbreakable.
The wedding was for our uncle—lavish, spread over five days in a sprawling beach resort near Surat. Hundreds of relatives, colorful tents, live music, and endless food. Rooms were overbooked, and due to a last-minute cancellation, Nisha and I were assigned to share a luxury suite. It had two queen beds, a balcony overlooking the Arabian Sea, and a private jacuzzi. "Bhaiya, it's okay na? Hum cousins hain," she said shyly when we entered, her cheeks flushing. I nodded, trying not to stare at her in her travel salwar kameez, the dupatta slipping to reveal cleavage.
The first day was the mehendi ceremony. Nisha sat with the girls, hands adorned with intricate designs, laughing. I watched from afar, her smile lighting up the room. That evening, after dinner, we returned to the suite exhausted. She changed in the bathroom, emerging in a simple cotton nightie that hugged her curves, no bra, nipples faintly visible in the dim light. I was in shorts and t-shirt. We chatted on her bed—about school, my job, her dreams of becoming a fashion designer. "Bhaiya, aapki girlfriend hai?" she asked innocently. "Nahi, time nahi milta," I lied, my eyes drifting to her legs crossed under the nightie.
As the AC hummed, she complained of shoulder ache from sitting all day. "Massage kar do na, bhaiya." I sat behind her, hands on her shoulders, rubbing gently. The fabric was thin; I felt her warm skin. My fingers drifted lower, grazing the tops of her breasts. She sighed deeply, leaning back into me. "Kitna acha lag raha hai..." The tension cracked. I turned her face, our lips meeting in a soft kiss. She pulled away shocked, "Bhaiya... yeh kya?" But her eyes were dark with desire. I kissed her again, deeper, tongue slipping in as she moaned softly, responding hesitantly at first, then hungrily.
I laid her back, lifting her nightie to reveal her bare body—perfect tits, flat stomach, shaved pussy already glistening. "Nisha... kitni sundar hai tu," I whispered, cupping her breasts, thumbs circling nipples. She gasped, "Chhu lo bhaiya... please." I sucked one nipple, flicking with my tongue while kneading the other, her body arching, hands in my hair. "Ahhh... zor se chooso... dard nahi ho raha."
She reached for my shorts, pulling them down, eyes widening at my thick 7.5-inch cock. "Bhaiya ka... itna bada." She stroked shyly, soft hands gliding over the shaft. I guided her, "Muh mein le beta." She licked the tip tentatively, then took it in, sucking gently, bobbing with increasing confidence, saliva making it slick. I groaned, "Aise hi... good girl."
I spread her legs, kissing down her body to her virgin pussy. The scent was sweet; I licked slowly, tasting her juices, tongue circling her clit while fingers probed her tightness. "Bhaiya... oh god... mat rukna... ahhhh!" She came hard, thighs clamping my head, body trembling.
I rubbed my cock along her slit. "Dalun? Dard hoga thoda." She nodded, "Haan bhaiya... apni cousin ki virginity lo." I pushed in slowly—her walls gripping, she cried out in pain, nails digging. "Dheere... par rukna mat." Once fully in, I thrust gently, building speed. Her pain turned to pleasure, "Chodo mujhe bhaiya... zor se... haan!"
We fucked passionately—missionary with deep kisses, her legs wrapped around me; cowgirl where she rode awkwardly at first, then confidently, tits bouncing; doggy with me pulling her braids, ass slapping my thighs. She came twice more, pussy clenching. "Andar daalo bhaiya... creampie kar do!" I exploded, filling her with hot cum.
We lay entwined, but the wedding continued. Sangeet night: dancing close, her hand brushing my crotch. Quickie in a bathroom stall—her lehenga hiked, me fucking from behind. Haldi ceremony: slippery bodies from turmeric, leading to jacuzzi sex that night—her riding me in bubbling water.
Over days, we explored—oral in the balcony at dawn, anal attempt (too tight, but fingering led to orgasm), role-play as bride-groom. Emotional confessions: her crush since puberty, my fantasies. By wedding end, addicted. Still meet secretly in Ahmedabad—our bond unbreakable.