Hi friends, my name is Siddhant Rao. I am 24 years old, from a typical middle-class family in Mumbai. I work in an IT firm, nothing fancy, just a regular guy trying to make ends meet. This is my true experience, something I never thought I would share, but the memory still makes my heart race and my cock hard even today. This happened two years ago during a big family wedding at our native place in Uttar Pradesh. My mama’s daughter, my cousin Priya, whom I always called Priya di when we were kids… well, she was no longer the little girl I remembered.
We were very close as children. Every summer vacation, I would go to mama’s house in Lucknow, and Priya and I would play all day – running in the fields, climbing trees, stealing mangoes. She was two years older than me, always bossy, calling me “chhotu” and making me do her bidding. Then life happened. I moved to Mumbai with my parents for my father’s job, studies took over, and we barely met for years. The last time I saw her, she was 18, still a skinny girl with braces. I had no idea she had transformed into this absolute bombshell.
The wedding was of our cousin brother. The whole extended family gathered at mama’s big ancestral house in the city outskirts – a typical joint family setup with rooms full of relatives, constant noise, laughter, music, and the smell of rich food cooking. I reached two days early to help with arrangements. The moment I stepped into the courtyard, I saw her. Priya was helping the ladies decorate the mandap, wearing a simple yellow salwar kameez that clung to her body because of the humid May heat. Yaar, what a sight she was. Her dupatta was slipping off one shoulder, revealing the deep neckline of her kameez, and her boobs – oh god – they were huge, easily 36D, round and firm, pushing against the thin fabric. Her waist was slim, hips wide, ass so juicy it swayed with every step. Her long black hair was tied in a loose braid, a few strands sticking to her sweaty neck. She turned, saw me, and her face lit up.
“Siddhant! Chhotu aa gaya!” she screamed and ran to hug me. I froze for a second as her soft, heavy breasts pressed against my chest, her perfume mixed with the faint smell of her sweat hitting my nose. My arms went around her waist automatically, and I felt the heat of her body through the thin cloth. My cock gave a small twitch, and I quickly pulled back, hoping she didn’t notice.
“Priya di… wow, kitni badi ho gayi ho,” I stammered, trying to act normal. She laughed, her eyes twinkling. “Aur tu kitna handsome ho gaya hai, Siddhant. City ne tujhe bilkul hero bana diya.” She pinched my cheek playfully, and I felt a strange electricity run through me. That was the beginning.
The next two days were pure torture and heaven at the same time. The house was packed, so sleeping arrangements were chaotic. All the young cousins were put in one big room on the first floor – mattresses spread on the floor, fans whirring lazily against the sticky heat. Priya and I ended up with mattresses next to each other because “we were like brother-sister anyway.” Brother-sister. Yeah, right.
The first night, everyone was tired from decorations. Lights were off by midnight, but the heat was unbearable. I was lying in my shorts and t-shirt, trying to sleep, when I heard rustling beside me. Priya was changing into her nightie behind a thin bedsheet she held up. In the dim moonlight coming through the window, I could see the silhouette of her body – the curve of her breasts as she removed her bra, the outline of her nipples, the way she bent to pull up her nightie. My throat went dry. I pretended to be asleep, but my eyes were glued. When she lay down, her nightie had ridden up her thighs, exposing smooth, fair legs almost up to her panties. I could smell her – that mix of talcum powder, sweat, and something feminine that made my cock rock hard under the sheet.
She turned towards me in her sleep, her hand accidentally landing on my chest. I didn’t move. Her breathing was soft, lips slightly parted. I could see the deep valley between her breasts where the nightie gaped. My mind was racing – this was my cousin, my di, but my body didn’t care. I wanted to touch her, to feel those soft boobs, to taste her skin. Guilt hit me hard, but the lust was stronger. I carefully moved her hand away and turned the other side, jerking off silently under the sheet, imagining her moans.
The next day was full of teasing. During mehendi, she sat cross-legged among the girls, her ghagra choli showing off her flat stomach and deep navel. Whenever she bent to apply mehendi on someone’s hand, her pallu would slip, giving me glimpses of her creamy cleavage. She caught me staring once and smiled mischievously, adjusting her pallu slowly, deliberately. “Kya dekh raha hai, chhotu?” she whispered when no one was looking. I blushed. “Kuch nahi di… bas mehendi achhi lag rahi hai.” She laughed softly. “Jhootha.”
In the evening, there was antakshari. We sat in a circle, and somehow Priya ended up sitting right beside me. Her bare arm brushed against mine constantly. When she sang, her voice was sweet, and she would lean close to whisper the next line in my ear, her warm breath tickling my neck. Once, her hand rested on my thigh “by mistake” while she reached for water. She didn’t remove it immediately. Her fingers pressed lightly, and I felt my cock stirring again. I shifted uncomfortably, but she just smiled innocently.
That night, the power went off around 1 AM – typical in that area during summer. The room became pitch dark and even hotter. Everyone groaned. Someone lit a candle, but it melted quickly. Priya whispered, “Siddhant, itna garmi hai… I can’t sleep.” I turned towards her. In the darkness, I could barely see her face, but I could feel her closeness. “Me neither, di.”
We started talking in low voices – remembering old times, laughing about childhood pranks. Slowly the conversation turned personal. She told me about her college, her boring arranged marriage proposals that mama was pushing. “I don’t want to marry some boring uncle type,” she whispered. “I want someone who understands me… someone exciting.” Her hand found mine under the sheet. She held it lightly. My heart was pounding.
“Di… you’ve become so beautiful,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. There was silence for a moment, then she squeezed my hand. “You really think so, Siddhant?” Her voice was different – husky. I nodded even though she couldn’t see. “Haan… bahut beautiful.”
Her fingers started tracing circles on my palm. “I noticed you staring at me yesterday,” she whispered. “Mujhe achha laga.” My cock was throbbing now. I turned towards her, our faces inches apart. “Di… yeh galat hai na? We are cousins…” Even as I said it, my free hand moved to her waist, resting lightly on the soft curve above her hip.
She didn’t pull away. Instead, she moved closer until our bodies touched. “Galat hi toh maza hai, Siddhant,” she breathed against my lips. And then she kissed me.
Her lips were soft, warm, tasting faintly of the paan she had eaten earlier. I kissed back hungrily, all the pent-up desire exploding. Our tongues met, dancing slowly at first, then urgently. My hand slid up her side, brushing the underside of her heavy breast through the thin nightie. She moaned softly into my mouth – “mmph…” – and pressed closer. I cupped her breast fully, feeling its weight, the hardness of her nipple against my palm. It was so big my hand couldn’t cover it completely. I squeezed gently, and she gasped.
We broke the kiss, breathing heavily. “Siddhant… sab so rahe hain… carefully,” she whispered. But her hand was already sliding down my chest, over my stomach, to the bulge in my shorts. She traced the outline of my hard cock, and I groaned quietly. “Kitna bada hai tera…” she murmured, surprised and excited.
I couldn’t wait anymore. I pulled her nightie up slowly, my fingers trembling. She lifted her hips to help. No bra – her magnificent breasts spilled free. In the darkness I could only feel – soft, heavy, warm, with stiff nipples that I rolled between my fingers. She arched her back, whispering “haan… pinch kar… ahh…” I leaned down and took one nipple in my mouth, sucking hard, tasting the faint saltiness of her sweat. She clutched my hair, biting her lip to stay quiet.
My hand moved between her thighs. Her panties were soaked. I rubbed her pussy through the cloth, feeling the heat, the swollen lips. She spread her legs wider, whispering urgently, “Siddhant… touch me properly…” I slipped my fingers inside her panties – oh god, she was completely shaved, smooth as silk, dripping wet. Her juices coated my fingers as I found her clit and rubbed slow circles. She was shaking, trying not to moan loudly. “Haan… wahi… aur tez… oh fuck…”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled her panties down her legs. She helped kick them off. Then I removed my shorts, my cock springing free – 7 inches, thick, throbbing, pre-cum leaking from the tip. She wrapped her hand around it, stroking slowly. “Kitna garam hai… kitna hard…” she whispered.
I positioned myself between her legs. The risk of someone waking up only made it hotter. I rubbed my cock head along her wet slit, coating it in her juices. She whimpered, “Siddhant… andar daal… please…” I pushed in slowly. Her pussy was incredibly tight, hot, gripping me like a velvet vice. Inch by inch I went deeper until I was fully inside. We both froze for a moment, savoring the feeling – cousins, united in the most forbidden way.
Then I started moving – slow, deep strokes. Every thrust made her breasts jiggle. I could feel her walls clenching around me. She wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper. “Ahh… Siddhant… kitna achha lag raha hai… aur zor se…” she whispered in my ear. I increased the pace, trying to stay quiet. The wet sounds of our fucking were soft but unmistakable in the silent room. Her juices were flowing, making my balls slick.
I kissed her neck, biting lightly, tasting her sweaty skin. She dug her nails into my back. “Haan… chodo mujhe… apni di ko chodo…” The dirty words from her mouth drove me wild. I fucked her harder, feeling her pussy spasm. She came first – her whole body shook, pussy squeezing my cock rhythmically, her mouth open in a silent scream. I felt her juices gush around me.
I wasn’t done. I pulled out, turned her on her side, and entered her again from behind – spooning position so we could stay under the sheet. This angle was deeper. I reached around to rub her clit while thrusting. Her ass felt amazing against my groin – soft, round, jiggling with every push. “Priya di… teri gaand kitni mast hai…” I whispered. She pushed back against me. “Thappad maar… lightly…” I gave her ass a soft slap, and she moaned.
We fucked like that for what felt like hours – slow, then fast, stopping whenever someone stirred in sleep. She came twice more, each time biting the pillow to stay quiet. Finally, I felt my balls tighten. “Di… andar aa raha hoon…” I warned. She clenched deliberately. “Haan… andar hi daal… fill me…” I exploded inside her, rope after rope of thick cum flooding her pussy. The feeling was indescribable – pure taboo bliss.
We stayed connected, breathing heavily. My cock softened slowly inside her, our mixed juices leaking out. She turned her head to kiss me softly. “This was just the beginning, Siddhant,” she whispered.
The wedding went on for two more days, and every night we found ways to touch, to steal moments. Once in the storeroom during preparations, she quickly sucked my cock – her warm mouth, tongue swirling around the head, tasting my pre-cum, swallowing every drop when I came. Another time, early morning when everyone was asleep, I ate her pussy – spreading her legs, licking her swollen clit, tasting our mixed flavors from the previous night, making her cum on my tongue.
On the last night before I left, we did it properly – raw, multiple rounds. She rode me slowly, her heavy breasts bouncing in my face as I sucked her nipples until they were red and swollen. Then doggy style – watching her ass ripple as I pounded her, pulling her hair gently, slapping her cheeks until they were pink. She begged in Hindi, “Chod mujhe zor se… bana de apni randi…” I fucked her until she came screaming into the pillow, then filled her pussy again with my cum.
When I finally left for Mumbai, we promised to keep our secret. We still message sometimes, late at night, remembering that wedding, planning the next family gathering. Priya is still unmarried, and whenever I think of her, I know our forbidden passion is far from over.
We were very close as children. Every summer vacation, I would go to mama’s house in Lucknow, and Priya and I would play all day – running in the fields, climbing trees, stealing mangoes. She was two years older than me, always bossy, calling me “chhotu” and making me do her bidding. Then life happened. I moved to Mumbai with my parents for my father’s job, studies took over, and we barely met for years. The last time I saw her, she was 18, still a skinny girl with braces. I had no idea she had transformed into this absolute bombshell.
The wedding was of our cousin brother. The whole extended family gathered at mama’s big ancestral house in the city outskirts – a typical joint family setup with rooms full of relatives, constant noise, laughter, music, and the smell of rich food cooking. I reached two days early to help with arrangements. The moment I stepped into the courtyard, I saw her. Priya was helping the ladies decorate the mandap, wearing a simple yellow salwar kameez that clung to her body because of the humid May heat. Yaar, what a sight she was. Her dupatta was slipping off one shoulder, revealing the deep neckline of her kameez, and her boobs – oh god – they were huge, easily 36D, round and firm, pushing against the thin fabric. Her waist was slim, hips wide, ass so juicy it swayed with every step. Her long black hair was tied in a loose braid, a few strands sticking to her sweaty neck. She turned, saw me, and her face lit up.
“Siddhant! Chhotu aa gaya!” she screamed and ran to hug me. I froze for a second as her soft, heavy breasts pressed against my chest, her perfume mixed with the faint smell of her sweat hitting my nose. My arms went around her waist automatically, and I felt the heat of her body through the thin cloth. My cock gave a small twitch, and I quickly pulled back, hoping she didn’t notice.
“Priya di… wow, kitni badi ho gayi ho,” I stammered, trying to act normal. She laughed, her eyes twinkling. “Aur tu kitna handsome ho gaya hai, Siddhant. City ne tujhe bilkul hero bana diya.” She pinched my cheek playfully, and I felt a strange electricity run through me. That was the beginning.
The next two days were pure torture and heaven at the same time. The house was packed, so sleeping arrangements were chaotic. All the young cousins were put in one big room on the first floor – mattresses spread on the floor, fans whirring lazily against the sticky heat. Priya and I ended up with mattresses next to each other because “we were like brother-sister anyway.” Brother-sister. Yeah, right.
The first night, everyone was tired from decorations. Lights were off by midnight, but the heat was unbearable. I was lying in my shorts and t-shirt, trying to sleep, when I heard rustling beside me. Priya was changing into her nightie behind a thin bedsheet she held up. In the dim moonlight coming through the window, I could see the silhouette of her body – the curve of her breasts as she removed her bra, the outline of her nipples, the way she bent to pull up her nightie. My throat went dry. I pretended to be asleep, but my eyes were glued. When she lay down, her nightie had ridden up her thighs, exposing smooth, fair legs almost up to her panties. I could smell her – that mix of talcum powder, sweat, and something feminine that made my cock rock hard under the sheet.
She turned towards me in her sleep, her hand accidentally landing on my chest. I didn’t move. Her breathing was soft, lips slightly parted. I could see the deep valley between her breasts where the nightie gaped. My mind was racing – this was my cousin, my di, but my body didn’t care. I wanted to touch her, to feel those soft boobs, to taste her skin. Guilt hit me hard, but the lust was stronger. I carefully moved her hand away and turned the other side, jerking off silently under the sheet, imagining her moans.
The next day was full of teasing. During mehendi, she sat cross-legged among the girls, her ghagra choli showing off her flat stomach and deep navel. Whenever she bent to apply mehendi on someone’s hand, her pallu would slip, giving me glimpses of her creamy cleavage. She caught me staring once and smiled mischievously, adjusting her pallu slowly, deliberately. “Kya dekh raha hai, chhotu?” she whispered when no one was looking. I blushed. “Kuch nahi di… bas mehendi achhi lag rahi hai.” She laughed softly. “Jhootha.”
In the evening, there was antakshari. We sat in a circle, and somehow Priya ended up sitting right beside me. Her bare arm brushed against mine constantly. When she sang, her voice was sweet, and she would lean close to whisper the next line in my ear, her warm breath tickling my neck. Once, her hand rested on my thigh “by mistake” while she reached for water. She didn’t remove it immediately. Her fingers pressed lightly, and I felt my cock stirring again. I shifted uncomfortably, but she just smiled innocently.
That night, the power went off around 1 AM – typical in that area during summer. The room became pitch dark and even hotter. Everyone groaned. Someone lit a candle, but it melted quickly. Priya whispered, “Siddhant, itna garmi hai… I can’t sleep.” I turned towards her. In the darkness, I could barely see her face, but I could feel her closeness. “Me neither, di.”
We started talking in low voices – remembering old times, laughing about childhood pranks. Slowly the conversation turned personal. She told me about her college, her boring arranged marriage proposals that mama was pushing. “I don’t want to marry some boring uncle type,” she whispered. “I want someone who understands me… someone exciting.” Her hand found mine under the sheet. She held it lightly. My heart was pounding.
“Di… you’ve become so beautiful,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. There was silence for a moment, then she squeezed my hand. “You really think so, Siddhant?” Her voice was different – husky. I nodded even though she couldn’t see. “Haan… bahut beautiful.”
Her fingers started tracing circles on my palm. “I noticed you staring at me yesterday,” she whispered. “Mujhe achha laga.” My cock was throbbing now. I turned towards her, our faces inches apart. “Di… yeh galat hai na? We are cousins…” Even as I said it, my free hand moved to her waist, resting lightly on the soft curve above her hip.
She didn’t pull away. Instead, she moved closer until our bodies touched. “Galat hi toh maza hai, Siddhant,” she breathed against my lips. And then she kissed me.
Her lips were soft, warm, tasting faintly of the paan she had eaten earlier. I kissed back hungrily, all the pent-up desire exploding. Our tongues met, dancing slowly at first, then urgently. My hand slid up her side, brushing the underside of her heavy breast through the thin nightie. She moaned softly into my mouth – “mmph…” – and pressed closer. I cupped her breast fully, feeling its weight, the hardness of her nipple against my palm. It was so big my hand couldn’t cover it completely. I squeezed gently, and she gasped.
We broke the kiss, breathing heavily. “Siddhant… sab so rahe hain… carefully,” she whispered. But her hand was already sliding down my chest, over my stomach, to the bulge in my shorts. She traced the outline of my hard cock, and I groaned quietly. “Kitna bada hai tera…” she murmured, surprised and excited.
I couldn’t wait anymore. I pulled her nightie up slowly, my fingers trembling. She lifted her hips to help. No bra – her magnificent breasts spilled free. In the darkness I could only feel – soft, heavy, warm, with stiff nipples that I rolled between my fingers. She arched her back, whispering “haan… pinch kar… ahh…” I leaned down and took one nipple in my mouth, sucking hard, tasting the faint saltiness of her sweat. She clutched my hair, biting her lip to stay quiet.
My hand moved between her thighs. Her panties were soaked. I rubbed her pussy through the cloth, feeling the heat, the swollen lips. She spread her legs wider, whispering urgently, “Siddhant… touch me properly…” I slipped my fingers inside her panties – oh god, she was completely shaved, smooth as silk, dripping wet. Her juices coated my fingers as I found her clit and rubbed slow circles. She was shaking, trying not to moan loudly. “Haan… wahi… aur tez… oh fuck…”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled her panties down her legs. She helped kick them off. Then I removed my shorts, my cock springing free – 7 inches, thick, throbbing, pre-cum leaking from the tip. She wrapped her hand around it, stroking slowly. “Kitna garam hai… kitna hard…” she whispered.
I positioned myself between her legs. The risk of someone waking up only made it hotter. I rubbed my cock head along her wet slit, coating it in her juices. She whimpered, “Siddhant… andar daal… please…” I pushed in slowly. Her pussy was incredibly tight, hot, gripping me like a velvet vice. Inch by inch I went deeper until I was fully inside. We both froze for a moment, savoring the feeling – cousins, united in the most forbidden way.
Then I started moving – slow, deep strokes. Every thrust made her breasts jiggle. I could feel her walls clenching around me. She wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper. “Ahh… Siddhant… kitna achha lag raha hai… aur zor se…” she whispered in my ear. I increased the pace, trying to stay quiet. The wet sounds of our fucking were soft but unmistakable in the silent room. Her juices were flowing, making my balls slick.
I kissed her neck, biting lightly, tasting her sweaty skin. She dug her nails into my back. “Haan… chodo mujhe… apni di ko chodo…” The dirty words from her mouth drove me wild. I fucked her harder, feeling her pussy spasm. She came first – her whole body shook, pussy squeezing my cock rhythmically, her mouth open in a silent scream. I felt her juices gush around me.
I wasn’t done. I pulled out, turned her on her side, and entered her again from behind – spooning position so we could stay under the sheet. This angle was deeper. I reached around to rub her clit while thrusting. Her ass felt amazing against my groin – soft, round, jiggling with every push. “Priya di… teri gaand kitni mast hai…” I whispered. She pushed back against me. “Thappad maar… lightly…” I gave her ass a soft slap, and she moaned.
We fucked like that for what felt like hours – slow, then fast, stopping whenever someone stirred in sleep. She came twice more, each time biting the pillow to stay quiet. Finally, I felt my balls tighten. “Di… andar aa raha hoon…” I warned. She clenched deliberately. “Haan… andar hi daal… fill me…” I exploded inside her, rope after rope of thick cum flooding her pussy. The feeling was indescribable – pure taboo bliss.
We stayed connected, breathing heavily. My cock softened slowly inside her, our mixed juices leaking out. She turned her head to kiss me softly. “This was just the beginning, Siddhant,” she whispered.
The wedding went on for two more days, and every night we found ways to touch, to steal moments. Once in the storeroom during preparations, she quickly sucked my cock – her warm mouth, tongue swirling around the head, tasting my pre-cum, swallowing every drop when I came. Another time, early morning when everyone was asleep, I ate her pussy – spreading her legs, licking her swollen clit, tasting our mixed flavors from the previous night, making her cum on my tongue.
On the last night before I left, we did it properly – raw, multiple rounds. She rode me slowly, her heavy breasts bouncing in my face as I sucked her nipples until they were red and swollen. Then doggy style – watching her ass ripple as I pounded her, pulling her hair gently, slapping her cheeks until they were pink. She begged in Hindi, “Chod mujhe zor se… bana de apni randi…” I fucked her until she came screaming into the pillow, then filled her pussy again with my cum.
When I finally left for Mumbai, we promised to keep our secret. We still message sometimes, late at night, remembering that wedding, planning the next family gathering. Priya is still unmarried, and whenever I think of her, I know our forbidden passion is far from over.