My name is Vihaan Malhotra and I am twenty-three years old, living in a sprawling joint family bungalow in the upscale Bandra West area of Mumbai. Our home is one of those rare old Portuguese-style villas that survived the real estate boom — three storeys high with red-tiled roofs, wide verandas overlooking palm trees, a private swimming pool in the backyard, marble floors that stay cool even in forty-degree summers, and multiple bedrooms filled with the constant chaos of cousins, aunts, uncles, and the endless smell of maa’s Parsi dhansak, papa's whiskey collection, and the salty sea breeze from Bandra Bandstand just a kilometer away. Papa is a successful diamond merchant with offices in Zaveri Bazaar and Antwerp, always traveling. Maa is the social butterfly — organizing family get-togethers, kitty parties, and making sure every cousin's birthday is celebrated with cake from Theobroma. I am doing my MBA from a top college in Powai, classes only till afternoon, rest of the day free for "internships" which usually means gym, bike rides along Carter Road, or chilling with friends at Pali Hill cafes.
We have a big extended family — uncles, aunts, cousins coming and going all year. But the one cousin who always stood out is my phuphi's daughter — my cousin behen — Natasha. Natasha is twenty-four, born and brought up in London where phuphi moved after marriage to a NRI businessman. She is half-Parsi half-Gujarati like me — fair glowing skin with a golden tint from London sunbeds, long wavy brown-highlighted hair that reaches her lower back, large green-hazel eyes inherited from her father, full glossy lips, and a body that looks like it was sculpted for Instagram — heavy D-cup breasts that bounce in her crop tops, tiny waist with a navel piercing, flared hips, and a perfectly round gaand that jiggles in her tight jeans or short dresses. She is the modern NRI cousin — speaks with a British accent, wears bikini tops and shorts at home, posts thirst traps on Instagram, dates openly (or so rumors say), and teases everyone with her bold attitude.
Natasha visits every summer for a month — “to connect with roots” she says. Everyone loves her — maa pampers her with homemade food, papa buys her expensive gifts, cousins follow her fashion. I was always close to her since childhood — she used to call me “chhote bhai” even though we are almost same age, teach me English swear words, take me to Marine Drive for ice-cream when we were kids. Those memories felt innocent then. But this summer — June-July 2025 — everything changed.
Natasha arrived on 10th June with two huge suitcases full of London clothes — crop tops, mini skirts, bikinis, lace lingerie peeking out when she unpacked. She was tanner, curvier, more confident. The first day she hugged me tight at the airport pickup — her breasts pressing against my chest, perfume (something expensive like Chanel) filling my nose. She whispered “missed you chhote… kitna bada ho gaya hai tu”. I felt my lund twitch. Told myself stop she is cousin behen family.
But over the next days the teasing started. She wore tiny shorts and sports bra for morning yoga on the terrace — bending in downward dog showing her gaand outline, sweat making the fabric cling. She swam in the pool in string bikinis — triangles barely covering her nipples, thong bottom showing her full gaand. She “accidentally” brushed against me in narrow corridors, sat on my lap during family movie nights “because no space”, whispered dirty jokes in my ear when no one was listening. I tried to avoid her — went to gym longer, stayed in my room — but my lund betrayed me every time, hardening at the sight of her.
The turning point came on a rainy afternoon in mid-July. Heavy Mumbai monsoon — power cut, thunder, everyone napping or watching TV downstairs with generator. Natasha called me to the terrace saying “chhote help kar na, mera phone gir gaya pool ke paas”. I went up. The terrace was empty, rain pouring hard, pool water overflowing. She was standing under the covered area wearing a white crop top (soaked from rain, completely transparent, black lace bra visible, nipples poking hard) and tiny denim shorts unbuttoned at the top showing her black thong waistband. Hair wet, loose, sticking to her back. She smiled that knowing smile and whispered “phone toh bahana tha chhote… asli baat kuch aur hai”.
I felt my throat dry. My lund hardened instantly. Guilt exploded — she is cousin behen family blood relative — but the forbidden heat was stronger. She stepped closer, so close I could feel her breath, her wet body heat. She placed her hand on my chest, felt my heartbeat, whispered “chhote… tu kitna strong ho gaya hai… gym ka asar hai”. Then she kissed me — soft lips tasting like strawberry gloss and rain. I kissed back — hungry, desperate after weeks of tension. Her tongue slid into my mouth exploring deeply. My hands went to her waist pulled her closer, squeezed her gaand through wet shorts. She moaned into my mouth uffff chhote kitna zor se pakad raha hai.
I pulled her crop top up — no bra, breasts spilled out heavy full dark pink nipples erect from cold rain. I took one in my mouth sucked hard tongue swirling around the nipple biting gently while my hand squeezed the other making her arch her back and moan aaaahhhh chhote choos le zor se choos apni cousin ke chuche. The taste of her skin — salty rain mixed with her natural sweetness — the softness filling my mouth — it was intoxicating. My other hand went between her legs under the shorts — no panty, choot already soaking wet geeli ho gayi thi. I rubbed her clit making her buck her hips zor se ragad chhote cousin ki choot ragad zor se.
She pushed me against the wall, pulled my shorts down, freed my lund — stroked it slowly whispered kitna bada hai tera lund chhote cousin ne kabhi socha nahi tha. Then she took me in her mouth sucked slowly tongue swirling around the topi taking me deep until I came in her mouth hot thick spurts and she swallowed every drop licked her lips saying tera maal kitna garam kitna tasty hai chhote cousin ko roz chahiye ab.
We did not stop there. I pulled her shorts down ate her choot for the first time — tongue inside circling clit sucking hard fingers pumping deep while rain poured around us. She came hard shaking violently squirting on my face aaaahhhhh jhad rahi hoon chhote cousin jhad rahi hai. Then she climbed on top guided my lund inside her slowly taking me inch by inch aaaahhhh kitna mota hai tera lund chhote cousin ki choot phaad doge. She rode me hard bouncing her breasts in my face while I sucked them slapped her gaand lightly making her moan zor se maar chhote apni cousin ki gaand maar zor se. We changed positions missionary with her legs over my shoulders deep hard thrusts doggy where I held her hips pounded from behind watching her gaand jiggle reverse cowgirl so I could see her choot swallowing my lund completely. She came four times clenching around me milking me before I exploded inside her garam garam maal daal de chhote cousin ke andar bhar de poora bhar de.
We lay there panting sweating mixed with rain on the wet terrace floor her head on my chest whispering chhote yeh galat hai par cousin ko ab sirf tu chahiye roz dopahar roz raat ko. Guilt crashed over me like a wave — she is cousin behen blood relative family — but the addiction had already begun.
From that rainy afternoon our secret life started. Parents were home most days but we found ways — quick afternoon sessions when they went to club or market long terrace fucks when everyone napped early morning quickies before anyone woke. Nights when the house slept she would come to my room or call me to the terrace. We explored everything — slow love-making with deep kisses rough fucking with hair pulling biting slapping. She taught me how to eat her choot properly tongue on her clit slow circles then fast flicks fingers in her g-spot until she squirted on my face zor se chaat chhote jeebh andar daal poori choot chaat le cousin ka pani pee le. I learned how to make her come multiple times how to bite her nipples just hard enough to make her scream softly how to finger her gaand lightly teasing the tight hole while I licked her choot. She sucked my lund every time sometimes slow worshipful sometimes fast sloppy until I came in her mouth on her breasts even once on her face which she licked clean saying chhote cousin ko tera maal har jagah pasand hai.
The risk grew with every passing day. Once during family dinner when everyone was present she slipped her foot under the table rubbed my lund slowly while smiling innocently at maa asking for more dal. The danger of someone noticing made me come in my pajamas without even being touched properly. Another time when parents were watching TV she pulled me into the bathroom locked the door lifted her nighty bent over the sink let me fuck her hard fast water running from the tap to cover the sounds of flesh slapping while maa called her name from the living room. I came inside her in under three minutes cum dripping down her thighs as she fixed her nighty went back to watch TV like nothing happened.
Months passed the affair deepened emotionally too. She told me how lonely she felt in London how her boyfriend cheated on her how she suppressed her desires for years until I awakened them with one look one touch. I told her how I had always found her beautiful how seeing her in bikinis made me hard how the guilt kills me every day but I can’t live without her touch her moans her choot clenching around me. We cried together sometimes made love slowly tenderly with deep eye contact and whispered I love yous other times fucked like animals raw desperate animalistic. She started saying dangerous things chhote agar cousin pregnant ho gayi toh sabko lagega London wale boyfriend ka hai par cousin jaanti hai yeh tera hai tera aur cousin ka. The thought terrified me excited me beyond words made me fill her even more.
Now January 13 2026 Natasha is planning to come again for two months — saying “internship in Mumbai”. Parents are happy. No one suspects. Those sixty days will be ours — full days full nights no hiding no hurry complete surrender. No college some days no office for her. The house will be quieter in winters. She wants me to take her in every room every corner — poolside terrace parents’ room even the puja room. She wants me to fill her every time no condom no pulling out. She whispers chhote agar is baar pet ho gaya toh cousin khush hogi tera baccha paalne mein.
I know this is the ultimate sin. I know one day it will destroy everything — family honor maa’s trust my future her dignity. But when Natasha calls me chhote with that hungry voice, spreads her legs, begs for my lund — I can’t stop. This sin this love this addiction has become my oxygen.
Tonight parents are sleeping early after long day. Natasha is coming next week but she has already sent a nude selfie from London with caption “chhote… ready rakhna… cousin aa rahi hai apne lund ke liye”. I will wait for her. When she comes maa-papa will welcome her with open arms. And at night when the house sleeps she will come to my room wearing her favorite black lace nighty door slightly open eyes full of promise. I will go to her. I will kiss her deeply suck her nipples until she begs eat her choot until she squirts fuck her in every position fill her with my cum while she moans chhote bhar de cousin ke andar poora bhar de.
This is our life now — daylight cousins midnight lovers. Guilt is there sharp like knife but desire is bigger. Love is there twisted forbidden but real. And we can’t stop. We won’t stop.
The nights stretch on. The risks grow. The creampies continue. Every time I fill her I imagine the impossible — a child that is ours but never can be acknowledged. The thought terrifies me arouses me binds me tighter to her. Natasha has become my obsession my weakness my reason to breathe my secret sin.
In the posh lanes of Bandra West where life moves fast and secrets hide behind high gates we keep burning together — two cousins trapped in a love that should never exist but feels more real than anything else in this world.
And so it continues — more visits more midnights more positions more whispered chhote more creampies more love wrapped in guilt wrapped in ecstasy wrapped in the unbreakable forbidden bond between a cousin bhai and his cousin behen.
The small everyday moments are what make this addiction so impossible to break. Every time she visits maa makes her favorite Parsi patrani machhi. Natasha sits beside me at dinner table her foot rubs my lund slowly under the table while maa talks about relatives and papa complains about prices. The danger of someone noticing makes my lund throb harder her touch more electric. When dinner ends she gets up adjusts her saree whispers raat ko terrace pe der se aana and walks away swaying her hips knowing I will follow.
Nights when she is here become our private world. Some nights she wants slow tender love — lying side by side spooning position me entering her from behind slow deep strokes while I kiss her neck whisper Natasha I love you she whispers chhote cousin bhi tujhse pyar karti hai. Other nights she wants raw animal lust — pushing me on the bed riding me hard grinding her hips slapping her own gaand while moaning zor se chod chhote apni cousin ko maar do phaad do choot ko. She has learned to squeeze her inner muscles around my lund making me cum faster sometimes milking me dry before I can even thrust properly. I have learned to rub her clit in fast circles while fucking her making her squirt on the bedsheet soaking everything.
The risk keeps increasing. Once during her last visit when maa-papa were watching TV downstairs she pulled me into the bathroom locked the door lifted her nighty bent over the sink let me fuck her hard fast water running from the tap to cover the sounds of flesh slapping while maa called her name from the living room. I came inside her in under three minutes cum dripping down her thighs as she fixed her nighty went back to watch TV like nothing happened.
The emotional depth is what makes this impossible to quit. Some nights after sex she cries softly in my arms saying chhote mujhe bohot guilty feel hota hai family ke saath yeh kar rahi hoon par ruk nahi paati… tujhse pyar ho gaya hai real wala pyar. I hold her tight kiss her tears tell her I feel the same guilt every day but the love is stronger that I can’t live without her touch her moans her choot clenching around me. We talk about impossible future — her breaking up with her London boyfriend moving to Mumbai permanently or me going to London for “higher studies” so we can be together. She has started taking contraceptive pills secretly because pregnancy risk is too high but sometimes she forgets on purpose whispers agar ho gaya toh cousin khush hogi tera baccha paalne mein. The thought scares me but also arouses me like nothing else making me take her harder deeper filling her with even more cum.
As January 13 2026 continues Natasha is coming next week for two months — saying “internship in Mumbai fashion house”. Parents are happy. No one suspects. Those sixty days will be ours — full days full nights no hiding no hurry complete surrender. No college some days no office for her. The house will be quieter in winters. She wants me to take her in every room every corner — poolside terrace parents’ room even the puja room. She wants me to fill her every time no condom no pulling out. She whispers chhote agar is baar pet ho gaya toh cousin khush hogi tera baccha paalne mein.
I know this is the ultimate sin. I know one day it will destroy everything — family honor maa’s trust my future her dignity. But when Natasha calls me chhote with that hungry voice, spreads her legs, begs for my lund — I can’t stop. This sin this love this addiction has become my oxygen.
Tonight I wait for her arrival message. When she comes maa-papa will welcome her with open arms. And at night when the house sleeps she will come to my room wearing her favorite black lace nighty door slightly open eyes full of promise. I will go to her. I will kiss her deeply suck her nipples until she begs eat her choot until she squirts fuck her in every position fill her with my cum while she moans chhote bhar de cousin ke andar poora bhar de.
This is our life now — daylight cousins midnight lovers. Guilt is there sharp like knife but desire is bigger. Love is there twisted forbidden but real. And we can’t stop. We won’t stop.
The nights stretch on. The risks grow. The creampies continue. Every time I fill her I imagine the impossible — a child that is ours but never can be acknowledged. The thought terrifies me arouses me binds me tighter to her. Natasha has become my obsession my weakness my reason to breathe my secret sin.
In the posh lanes of Bandra West where life moves fast and secrets hide behind high gates we keep burning together — two cousins trapped in a love that should never exist but feels more real than anything else in this world.
And so it continues — more visits more midnights more positions more whispered chhote more creampies more love wrapped in guilt wrapped in ecstasy wrapped in the unbreakable forbidden bond between a cousin bhai and his cousin behen.
We have a big extended family — uncles, aunts, cousins coming and going all year. But the one cousin who always stood out is my phuphi's daughter — my cousin behen — Natasha. Natasha is twenty-four, born and brought up in London where phuphi moved after marriage to a NRI businessman. She is half-Parsi half-Gujarati like me — fair glowing skin with a golden tint from London sunbeds, long wavy brown-highlighted hair that reaches her lower back, large green-hazel eyes inherited from her father, full glossy lips, and a body that looks like it was sculpted for Instagram — heavy D-cup breasts that bounce in her crop tops, tiny waist with a navel piercing, flared hips, and a perfectly round gaand that jiggles in her tight jeans or short dresses. She is the modern NRI cousin — speaks with a British accent, wears bikini tops and shorts at home, posts thirst traps on Instagram, dates openly (or so rumors say), and teases everyone with her bold attitude.
Natasha visits every summer for a month — “to connect with roots” she says. Everyone loves her — maa pampers her with homemade food, papa buys her expensive gifts, cousins follow her fashion. I was always close to her since childhood — she used to call me “chhote bhai” even though we are almost same age, teach me English swear words, take me to Marine Drive for ice-cream when we were kids. Those memories felt innocent then. But this summer — June-July 2025 — everything changed.
Natasha arrived on 10th June with two huge suitcases full of London clothes — crop tops, mini skirts, bikinis, lace lingerie peeking out when she unpacked. She was tanner, curvier, more confident. The first day she hugged me tight at the airport pickup — her breasts pressing against my chest, perfume (something expensive like Chanel) filling my nose. She whispered “missed you chhote… kitna bada ho gaya hai tu”. I felt my lund twitch. Told myself stop she is cousin behen family.
But over the next days the teasing started. She wore tiny shorts and sports bra for morning yoga on the terrace — bending in downward dog showing her gaand outline, sweat making the fabric cling. She swam in the pool in string bikinis — triangles barely covering her nipples, thong bottom showing her full gaand. She “accidentally” brushed against me in narrow corridors, sat on my lap during family movie nights “because no space”, whispered dirty jokes in my ear when no one was listening. I tried to avoid her — went to gym longer, stayed in my room — but my lund betrayed me every time, hardening at the sight of her.
The turning point came on a rainy afternoon in mid-July. Heavy Mumbai monsoon — power cut, thunder, everyone napping or watching TV downstairs with generator. Natasha called me to the terrace saying “chhote help kar na, mera phone gir gaya pool ke paas”. I went up. The terrace was empty, rain pouring hard, pool water overflowing. She was standing under the covered area wearing a white crop top (soaked from rain, completely transparent, black lace bra visible, nipples poking hard) and tiny denim shorts unbuttoned at the top showing her black thong waistband. Hair wet, loose, sticking to her back. She smiled that knowing smile and whispered “phone toh bahana tha chhote… asli baat kuch aur hai”.
I felt my throat dry. My lund hardened instantly. Guilt exploded — she is cousin behen family blood relative — but the forbidden heat was stronger. She stepped closer, so close I could feel her breath, her wet body heat. She placed her hand on my chest, felt my heartbeat, whispered “chhote… tu kitna strong ho gaya hai… gym ka asar hai”. Then she kissed me — soft lips tasting like strawberry gloss and rain. I kissed back — hungry, desperate after weeks of tension. Her tongue slid into my mouth exploring deeply. My hands went to her waist pulled her closer, squeezed her gaand through wet shorts. She moaned into my mouth uffff chhote kitna zor se pakad raha hai.
I pulled her crop top up — no bra, breasts spilled out heavy full dark pink nipples erect from cold rain. I took one in my mouth sucked hard tongue swirling around the nipple biting gently while my hand squeezed the other making her arch her back and moan aaaahhhh chhote choos le zor se choos apni cousin ke chuche. The taste of her skin — salty rain mixed with her natural sweetness — the softness filling my mouth — it was intoxicating. My other hand went between her legs under the shorts — no panty, choot already soaking wet geeli ho gayi thi. I rubbed her clit making her buck her hips zor se ragad chhote cousin ki choot ragad zor se.
She pushed me against the wall, pulled my shorts down, freed my lund — stroked it slowly whispered kitna bada hai tera lund chhote cousin ne kabhi socha nahi tha. Then she took me in her mouth sucked slowly tongue swirling around the topi taking me deep until I came in her mouth hot thick spurts and she swallowed every drop licked her lips saying tera maal kitna garam kitna tasty hai chhote cousin ko roz chahiye ab.
We did not stop there. I pulled her shorts down ate her choot for the first time — tongue inside circling clit sucking hard fingers pumping deep while rain poured around us. She came hard shaking violently squirting on my face aaaahhhhh jhad rahi hoon chhote cousin jhad rahi hai. Then she climbed on top guided my lund inside her slowly taking me inch by inch aaaahhhh kitna mota hai tera lund chhote cousin ki choot phaad doge. She rode me hard bouncing her breasts in my face while I sucked them slapped her gaand lightly making her moan zor se maar chhote apni cousin ki gaand maar zor se. We changed positions missionary with her legs over my shoulders deep hard thrusts doggy where I held her hips pounded from behind watching her gaand jiggle reverse cowgirl so I could see her choot swallowing my lund completely. She came four times clenching around me milking me before I exploded inside her garam garam maal daal de chhote cousin ke andar bhar de poora bhar de.
We lay there panting sweating mixed with rain on the wet terrace floor her head on my chest whispering chhote yeh galat hai par cousin ko ab sirf tu chahiye roz dopahar roz raat ko. Guilt crashed over me like a wave — she is cousin behen blood relative family — but the addiction had already begun.
From that rainy afternoon our secret life started. Parents were home most days but we found ways — quick afternoon sessions when they went to club or market long terrace fucks when everyone napped early morning quickies before anyone woke. Nights when the house slept she would come to my room or call me to the terrace. We explored everything — slow love-making with deep kisses rough fucking with hair pulling biting slapping. She taught me how to eat her choot properly tongue on her clit slow circles then fast flicks fingers in her g-spot until she squirted on my face zor se chaat chhote jeebh andar daal poori choot chaat le cousin ka pani pee le. I learned how to make her come multiple times how to bite her nipples just hard enough to make her scream softly how to finger her gaand lightly teasing the tight hole while I licked her choot. She sucked my lund every time sometimes slow worshipful sometimes fast sloppy until I came in her mouth on her breasts even once on her face which she licked clean saying chhote cousin ko tera maal har jagah pasand hai.
The risk grew with every passing day. Once during family dinner when everyone was present she slipped her foot under the table rubbed my lund slowly while smiling innocently at maa asking for more dal. The danger of someone noticing made me come in my pajamas without even being touched properly. Another time when parents were watching TV she pulled me into the bathroom locked the door lifted her nighty bent over the sink let me fuck her hard fast water running from the tap to cover the sounds of flesh slapping while maa called her name from the living room. I came inside her in under three minutes cum dripping down her thighs as she fixed her nighty went back to watch TV like nothing happened.
Months passed the affair deepened emotionally too. She told me how lonely she felt in London how her boyfriend cheated on her how she suppressed her desires for years until I awakened them with one look one touch. I told her how I had always found her beautiful how seeing her in bikinis made me hard how the guilt kills me every day but I can’t live without her touch her moans her choot clenching around me. We cried together sometimes made love slowly tenderly with deep eye contact and whispered I love yous other times fucked like animals raw desperate animalistic. She started saying dangerous things chhote agar cousin pregnant ho gayi toh sabko lagega London wale boyfriend ka hai par cousin jaanti hai yeh tera hai tera aur cousin ka. The thought terrified me excited me beyond words made me fill her even more.
Now January 13 2026 Natasha is planning to come again for two months — saying “internship in Mumbai”. Parents are happy. No one suspects. Those sixty days will be ours — full days full nights no hiding no hurry complete surrender. No college some days no office for her. The house will be quieter in winters. She wants me to take her in every room every corner — poolside terrace parents’ room even the puja room. She wants me to fill her every time no condom no pulling out. She whispers chhote agar is baar pet ho gaya toh cousin khush hogi tera baccha paalne mein.
I know this is the ultimate sin. I know one day it will destroy everything — family honor maa’s trust my future her dignity. But when Natasha calls me chhote with that hungry voice, spreads her legs, begs for my lund — I can’t stop. This sin this love this addiction has become my oxygen.
Tonight parents are sleeping early after long day. Natasha is coming next week but she has already sent a nude selfie from London with caption “chhote… ready rakhna… cousin aa rahi hai apne lund ke liye”. I will wait for her. When she comes maa-papa will welcome her with open arms. And at night when the house sleeps she will come to my room wearing her favorite black lace nighty door slightly open eyes full of promise. I will go to her. I will kiss her deeply suck her nipples until she begs eat her choot until she squirts fuck her in every position fill her with my cum while she moans chhote bhar de cousin ke andar poora bhar de.
This is our life now — daylight cousins midnight lovers. Guilt is there sharp like knife but desire is bigger. Love is there twisted forbidden but real. And we can’t stop. We won’t stop.
The nights stretch on. The risks grow. The creampies continue. Every time I fill her I imagine the impossible — a child that is ours but never can be acknowledged. The thought terrifies me arouses me binds me tighter to her. Natasha has become my obsession my weakness my reason to breathe my secret sin.
In the posh lanes of Bandra West where life moves fast and secrets hide behind high gates we keep burning together — two cousins trapped in a love that should never exist but feels more real than anything else in this world.
And so it continues — more visits more midnights more positions more whispered chhote more creampies more love wrapped in guilt wrapped in ecstasy wrapped in the unbreakable forbidden bond between a cousin bhai and his cousin behen.
The small everyday moments are what make this addiction so impossible to break. Every time she visits maa makes her favorite Parsi patrani machhi. Natasha sits beside me at dinner table her foot rubs my lund slowly under the table while maa talks about relatives and papa complains about prices. The danger of someone noticing makes my lund throb harder her touch more electric. When dinner ends she gets up adjusts her saree whispers raat ko terrace pe der se aana and walks away swaying her hips knowing I will follow.
Nights when she is here become our private world. Some nights she wants slow tender love — lying side by side spooning position me entering her from behind slow deep strokes while I kiss her neck whisper Natasha I love you she whispers chhote cousin bhi tujhse pyar karti hai. Other nights she wants raw animal lust — pushing me on the bed riding me hard grinding her hips slapping her own gaand while moaning zor se chod chhote apni cousin ko maar do phaad do choot ko. She has learned to squeeze her inner muscles around my lund making me cum faster sometimes milking me dry before I can even thrust properly. I have learned to rub her clit in fast circles while fucking her making her squirt on the bedsheet soaking everything.
The risk keeps increasing. Once during her last visit when maa-papa were watching TV downstairs she pulled me into the bathroom locked the door lifted her nighty bent over the sink let me fuck her hard fast water running from the tap to cover the sounds of flesh slapping while maa called her name from the living room. I came inside her in under three minutes cum dripping down her thighs as she fixed her nighty went back to watch TV like nothing happened.
The emotional depth is what makes this impossible to quit. Some nights after sex she cries softly in my arms saying chhote mujhe bohot guilty feel hota hai family ke saath yeh kar rahi hoon par ruk nahi paati… tujhse pyar ho gaya hai real wala pyar. I hold her tight kiss her tears tell her I feel the same guilt every day but the love is stronger that I can’t live without her touch her moans her choot clenching around me. We talk about impossible future — her breaking up with her London boyfriend moving to Mumbai permanently or me going to London for “higher studies” so we can be together. She has started taking contraceptive pills secretly because pregnancy risk is too high but sometimes she forgets on purpose whispers agar ho gaya toh cousin khush hogi tera baccha paalne mein. The thought scares me but also arouses me like nothing else making me take her harder deeper filling her with even more cum.
As January 13 2026 continues Natasha is coming next week for two months — saying “internship in Mumbai fashion house”. Parents are happy. No one suspects. Those sixty days will be ours — full days full nights no hiding no hurry complete surrender. No college some days no office for her. The house will be quieter in winters. She wants me to take her in every room every corner — poolside terrace parents’ room even the puja room. She wants me to fill her every time no condom no pulling out. She whispers chhote agar is baar pet ho gaya toh cousin khush hogi tera baccha paalne mein.
I know this is the ultimate sin. I know one day it will destroy everything — family honor maa’s trust my future her dignity. But when Natasha calls me chhote with that hungry voice, spreads her legs, begs for my lund — I can’t stop. This sin this love this addiction has become my oxygen.
Tonight I wait for her arrival message. When she comes maa-papa will welcome her with open arms. And at night when the house sleeps she will come to my room wearing her favorite black lace nighty door slightly open eyes full of promise. I will go to her. I will kiss her deeply suck her nipples until she begs eat her choot until she squirts fuck her in every position fill her with my cum while she moans chhote bhar de cousin ke andar poora bhar de.
This is our life now — daylight cousins midnight lovers. Guilt is there sharp like knife but desire is bigger. Love is there twisted forbidden but real. And we can’t stop. We won’t stop.
The nights stretch on. The risks grow. The creampies continue. Every time I fill her I imagine the impossible — a child that is ours but never can be acknowledged. The thought terrifies me arouses me binds me tighter to her. Natasha has become my obsession my weakness my reason to breathe my secret sin.
In the posh lanes of Bandra West where life moves fast and secrets hide behind high gates we keep burning together — two cousins trapped in a love that should never exist but feels more real than anything else in this world.
And so it continues — more visits more midnights more positions more whispered chhote more creampies more love wrapped in guilt wrapped in ecstasy wrapped in the unbreakable forbidden bond between a cousin bhai and his cousin behen.