The grand family wedding in Rajasthan during the vibrant summer of 2026 was a spectacle of colors, music, and traditions that brought relatives from across India to the opulent palace venue in Jaipur. Arjun, 28, a successful architect based in Delhi, had flown in for his uncle's daughter's marriage—a lavish affair with mehendi ceremonies, sangeet nights, and the main baraat procession under glittering lights. The palace, rented for the occasion, featured marble courtyards, fountain pools, and luxurious guest suites adorned with Rajasthani motifs, the air filled with the aroma of marigold garlands, incense, and spicy Rajasthani cuisine. But for Arjun, the real attraction wasn't the festivities—it was his cousin sister, Riya, 25, whom he hadn't seen in years.
Riya had grown into a breathtaking beauty: fair skin glowing from bridal prep ubtans, long silky black hair styled in elaborate braids with fresh flowers during ceremonies, almond-shaped eyes enhanced with kohl that gave her a seductive gaze, full pink lips often smiling coyly, and a figure that turned heads—36C breasts perfectly proportioned and perky under her lehenga blouses, a slim waist cinched with heavy jewelry, wide hips flaring dramatically, and a round firm ass that swayed hypnotically as she danced in ghoomar performances. As cousins from parallel branches, they shared childhood memories of playful teasing, but now, societal taboos made any deeper connection forbidden—yet irresistibly tempting in the charged atmosphere of a family wedding.
Arjun arrived on the mehendi day, his tailored sherwani hugging his athletic build from gym sessions. Riya spotted him first during the henna application in the women's courtyard, her eyes lighting up as she waved him over despite aunties' side-eyes. "Arjun bhaiya, kitne saal baad! You've become so handsome," she teased, her voice a melodic mix of Hindi and English, her henna-decorated hands gesturing, the intricate designs trailing up her arms like invitations to trace them. He sat nearby, joking about old times, but his gaze lingered on her low-cut blouse revealing ample cleavage, beads of sweat tracing down in the heat, her laughter making her breasts jiggle subtly.
That evening during sangeet rehearsals, under colorful tents with dhol drums thumping and dancers twirling, Riya pulled Arjun into a group dance. Their bodies brushed repeatedly—her back against his chest, hips grinding accidentally-or-not to the beat, her ass pressing against his growing hardness. "Bhaiya, you're stepping on my toes!" she laughed, but her eyes held mischief, hand squeezing his during spins. The chemistry crackled like the fireworks bursting overhead, family oblivious in the chaos.
Late that night, unable to sleep in his suite from the lingering arousal, Arjun wandered to the palace pool terrace for fresh air. The water shimmered under moonlight, palm trees rustling. To his surprise, Riya was there in a thin night robe over lingerie, dipping her feet in the pool, henna still fresh on her hands and feet. "Neend nahi aa rahi, di?" he asked, sitting close, the term "di" for cousin sister adding taboo thrill. She sighed, "Wedding stress, plus... seeing you after so long brings back memories." Conversation turned personal—her arranged engagement falling through due to a controlling fiancé, his string of failed relationships in the city, both craving real connection.
The air thickened. Riya's robe slipped slightly, revealing lace bra straps. Arjun's hand brushed her thigh, "Riya, you're gorgeous—no one deserves to control you." Their eyes locked, and she leaned in, lips meeting in a soft, exploratory kiss that exploded into passion. Tongues danced hungrily, tasting mint from her paan and whiskey from his drink. Hands roamed—his cupping her breast through robe, thumbing the hardening nipple; hers stroking his chest, lowering to his bulge.
They moved to a secluded cabana by the pool, robe falling to reveal her red lace set—bra barely containing her breasts, thong outlining her shaved pussy, already wet. Arjun stripped his kurta and pajamas, his 8-inch cock springing free, thick and veined. "Bhaiya, kitna bada hai—cousin ka lund itna mota!" she gasped, stroking it. He pushed her onto the cushioned lounge, kissing down her neck, unhooking bra to free her perfect tits—sucking one nipple hard, biting lightly while pinching the other, tasting her skin's rose lotion. Riya moaned, "Chus mere boobs, bhaiya—make your cousin sister wet!"
His hand slid into her thong, fingers finding her slick clit, rubbing circles before dipping inside, curling to hit G-spot. "Kitni geeli ho gayi, di—your pussy is dripping for brother!" She bucked, "Finger fuck me harder—aa raha hai!" She came squirting on his hand, body arching under stars.
Eager, she knelt on the soft mat, taking his cock—licking the head, tongue swirling precum, then deepthroating, gagging but enthusiastic, saliva dripping as she bobbed. "Mouth chodo apni cousin ko—fuck my face!" Arjun thrust, hands in her hair, cumming ropes down her throat—she swallowed, some spilling on her tits like pearls.
Revived, he bent her over the lounge arm, thong aside, rubbing cock along her slit. "Ready for cousin's lund, di?" "Haan, chodo mujhe—fuck your sister hard!" He thrust deep, filling her tight pussy, pounding doggy style—slapping her ass red, pulling hair, the slap sounds echoing softly over pool ripples. She pushed back, "Zor se, bhaiya—faad de meri choot!" Multiple positions: Missionary with legs over shoulders for deeper penetration, her nails raking his back; cowgirl riding wild, breasts bouncing for sucking; spooning intimate, whispering dirty talk. He creampied her thrice that night, seed filling her womb, risking everything in passion.
The wedding days became a playground for their incest sex story. Mehendi morning: Sneaking to a guest room, her henna hands stroking him to oral climax, swallowing before ceremonies
Riya had grown into a breathtaking beauty: fair skin glowing from bridal prep ubtans, long silky black hair styled in elaborate braids with fresh flowers during ceremonies, almond-shaped eyes enhanced with kohl that gave her a seductive gaze, full pink lips often smiling coyly, and a figure that turned heads—36C breasts perfectly proportioned and perky under her lehenga blouses, a slim waist cinched with heavy jewelry, wide hips flaring dramatically, and a round firm ass that swayed hypnotically as she danced in ghoomar performances. As cousins from parallel branches, they shared childhood memories of playful teasing, but now, societal taboos made any deeper connection forbidden—yet irresistibly tempting in the charged atmosphere of a family wedding.
Arjun arrived on the mehendi day, his tailored sherwani hugging his athletic build from gym sessions. Riya spotted him first during the henna application in the women's courtyard, her eyes lighting up as she waved him over despite aunties' side-eyes. "Arjun bhaiya, kitne saal baad! You've become so handsome," she teased, her voice a melodic mix of Hindi and English, her henna-decorated hands gesturing, the intricate designs trailing up her arms like invitations to trace them. He sat nearby, joking about old times, but his gaze lingered on her low-cut blouse revealing ample cleavage, beads of sweat tracing down in the heat, her laughter making her breasts jiggle subtly.
That evening during sangeet rehearsals, under colorful tents with dhol drums thumping and dancers twirling, Riya pulled Arjun into a group dance. Their bodies brushed repeatedly—her back against his chest, hips grinding accidentally-or-not to the beat, her ass pressing against his growing hardness. "Bhaiya, you're stepping on my toes!" she laughed, but her eyes held mischief, hand squeezing his during spins. The chemistry crackled like the fireworks bursting overhead, family oblivious in the chaos.
Late that night, unable to sleep in his suite from the lingering arousal, Arjun wandered to the palace pool terrace for fresh air. The water shimmered under moonlight, palm trees rustling. To his surprise, Riya was there in a thin night robe over lingerie, dipping her feet in the pool, henna still fresh on her hands and feet. "Neend nahi aa rahi, di?" he asked, sitting close, the term "di" for cousin sister adding taboo thrill. She sighed, "Wedding stress, plus... seeing you after so long brings back memories." Conversation turned personal—her arranged engagement falling through due to a controlling fiancé, his string of failed relationships in the city, both craving real connection.
The air thickened. Riya's robe slipped slightly, revealing lace bra straps. Arjun's hand brushed her thigh, "Riya, you're gorgeous—no one deserves to control you." Their eyes locked, and she leaned in, lips meeting in a soft, exploratory kiss that exploded into passion. Tongues danced hungrily, tasting mint from her paan and whiskey from his drink. Hands roamed—his cupping her breast through robe, thumbing the hardening nipple; hers stroking his chest, lowering to his bulge.
They moved to a secluded cabana by the pool, robe falling to reveal her red lace set—bra barely containing her breasts, thong outlining her shaved pussy, already wet. Arjun stripped his kurta and pajamas, his 8-inch cock springing free, thick and veined. "Bhaiya, kitna bada hai—cousin ka lund itna mota!" she gasped, stroking it. He pushed her onto the cushioned lounge, kissing down her neck, unhooking bra to free her perfect tits—sucking one nipple hard, biting lightly while pinching the other, tasting her skin's rose lotion. Riya moaned, "Chus mere boobs, bhaiya—make your cousin sister wet!"
His hand slid into her thong, fingers finding her slick clit, rubbing circles before dipping inside, curling to hit G-spot. "Kitni geeli ho gayi, di—your pussy is dripping for brother!" She bucked, "Finger fuck me harder—aa raha hai!" She came squirting on his hand, body arching under stars.
Eager, she knelt on the soft mat, taking his cock—licking the head, tongue swirling precum, then deepthroating, gagging but enthusiastic, saliva dripping as she bobbed. "Mouth chodo apni cousin ko—fuck my face!" Arjun thrust, hands in her hair, cumming ropes down her throat—she swallowed, some spilling on her tits like pearls.
Revived, he bent her over the lounge arm, thong aside, rubbing cock along her slit. "Ready for cousin's lund, di?" "Haan, chodo mujhe—fuck your sister hard!" He thrust deep, filling her tight pussy, pounding doggy style—slapping her ass red, pulling hair, the slap sounds echoing softly over pool ripples. She pushed back, "Zor se, bhaiya—faad de meri choot!" Multiple positions: Missionary with legs over shoulders for deeper penetration, her nails raking his back; cowgirl riding wild, breasts bouncing for sucking; spooning intimate, whispering dirty talk. He creampied her thrice that night, seed filling her womb, risking everything in passion.
The wedding days became a playground for their incest sex story. Mehendi morning: Sneaking to a guest room, her henna hands stroking him to oral climax, swallowing before ceremonies