05-01-2026, 12:52 AM
The grand Lucknow resort buzzed with the vibrant chaos of an Indian wedding. Strings of marigold flowers dbangd the halls, the air thick with the scent of incense and jasmine, while distant dhol beats echoed through the night. Pallavi's wedding day had arrived, a whirlwind of rituals and family gatherings that masked the undercurrents of forbidden desires simmering beneath the surface. Urvashi, dressed in a shimmering red lehenga that hugged her curvaceous 36D-28-36 figure, moved through the crowd with a practiced smile, her long dark hair cascading down her back. But her mind wandered to Zaid, her young lover, whose athletic frame and bold eyes had become her secret addiction. She caught glimpses of him mingling with guests, his toned arms flexing under his sherwani, and felt a familiar heat stir between her thighs.
Just before the main ceremonies began, as the baraat prepared to arrive, Zaid seized his chance. The resort's rooms overlooked lush gardens, and Pallavi's bridal suite had a private balcony shrouded by climbing vines. Heart pounding, Zaid scaled the low wall and slipped onto the balcony like a shadow. Pallavi, the 26-year-old bride-to-be, was alone, adjusting her heavy bridal lehenga in the mirror. Her figure was lithe yet voluptuous, with pert breasts straining against the embroidered blouse, her fair skin glowing under the golden jewelry. She gasped as Zaid's strong hands wrapped around her waist from behind, his breath hot against her neck.
"Zaid! Kya kar rahe ho? (What are you doing?)" she whispered, her voice a mix of shock and excitement, but she didn't pull away. Her dark eyes met his in the reflection, sparkling with mischief.
"Ek last thrill, before you become someone else's," he murmured, his fingers already hiking up the layers of her lehenga. Pallavi's breath hitched as he pressed against her, his hardness evident through his pants. She had teased him relentlessly in texts, her youthful confidence masking her curiosity about the passion Urvashi had hinted at. Now, with the wedding pheras looming, the thrill turned real.
He spun her around, their lips crashing in a hungry kiss. Pallavi moaned softly, her hands fumbling with his zipper as he backed her against the balcony railing. "Pre-marriage thrills turning real... ahh, Zaid, make it quick," she panted, her voice laced with urgency. Zaid wasted no time, lifting her lehenga fully and sliding her panties aside. His circumcised cock, thick and veined at 7 inches, sprang free, and he thrust into her wetness with a groan. Pallavi's nails dug into his shoulders, her moans muffled against his chest as he pumped rhythmically—deep, insistent strokes that made her legs tremble.
"Oh god, it's so good... harder, Zaid, just like that," she whimpered, her body arching as waves of pleasure built. The risk heightened everything—the distant sounds of guests below, the possibility of interruption. Zaid's hands roamed her breasts, pinching her nipples through the fabric until she cried out softly. He climaxed first, spilling deep inside her with a shudder, and Pallavi followed, her walls clenching around him in ecstasy. As he pulled out, his cum began to drip slowly down her thighs, warm and sticky under the lehenga.
They parted breathlessly, Zaid slipping away just as a knock sounded at the door—her makeup artist. Pallavi straightened her clothes, feeling the illicit warmth trickle with every step, a secret thrill that made her smile through the nervousness.
The ceremonies unfolded in a blur of colors and chants. Pallavi walked the pheras around the sacred fire with her groom, a steady but unremarkable man named Rohan, her lehenga swishing elegantly. But as she circled, she felt Zaid's essence dripping further, a naughty reminder pooling at her inner thighs. She caught Zaid's eye from the crowd, his smirk knowing, and bit her lip to suppress a grin. Urvashi, watching from the front row, sensed the tension but attributed it to wedding jitters.
As the night wore on and the rituals concluded, the family retired to their suites. Rashi, who had flown in from Dubai just days ago, felt a wave of exhaustion mixed with something else—nausea that had plagued her since the flight. Her early-30s figure was elegant, with long wavy hair and expressive eyes, but her milky fair skin looked paler than usual. She cornered Zaid in a quiet corridor near the banquet hall, her saree clinging to her ample curves.
"Zaid," she hissed, pulling him into an empty guest room. "We need to talk about what I saw. That wardrobe stunt? If you want me to keep quiet about you and Urvashi—and now Pallavi too—you owe me."
Zaid's eyes darkened with a mix of arousal and caution. Rashi had always been vivacious, her perky pink nipples and frustrated desires from her impotent husband Amit making her a powder keg. "What do you want, Bhabhi?" he asked, stepping closer.
"Full satisfaction," she demanded, her voice husky. She pushed him onto the bed, her hands undoing his sherwani as she straddled him. Zaid obliged, his mouth claiming hers in a fierce kiss. Rashi's nausea flickered but was drowned by desire as she deep-throated him, her lips stretching around his thick shaft, gagging slightly but persisting with expert suction. "Mmm, you're bigger than I imagined," she murmured, saliva dripping.
He flipped her onto her back, spreading her legs wide and wrapping them around his waist. Entering her in missionary, he thrust deeply, her walls gripping him tightly. "Ahh, yes... fuck me like Amit never could," Rashi moaned, her nails raking his back. The intensity built—sweat-slicked bodies slapping together, her breasts bouncing with each powerful stroke. But midway, nausea surged; she clenched her eyes, fighting it as pleasure overtook. Zaid climaxed with a groan, filling her with a hot liquid, and Rashi shattered in orgasm, her body convulsing.
As he pulled out, the nausea won. Rashi bolted to the bathroom, puking into the sink, her body heaving. Zaid followed, concerned, rubbing her back. "Are you okay?"
She wiped her mouth, a realization dawning. "Zaid... get me a pregnancy test kit. Discreetly. Now."
He nodded, slipping out to a nearby pharmacy under the guise of fetching medicine for a guest. Back in the room, Rashi peed on the stick, her hands trembling. Two lines appeared—positive. Tears welled up; she knew it was Faisal's from Dubai, not Amit's or even Qadir's. But the family would assume otherwise.
The wedding ended with emotional farewells and vidai, the resort emptying as guests departed. Back in their family home in Lucknow a few days later, Rashi gathered everyone—Amit, and the parents—for a tearful confession. "I'm pregnant," she announced, her voice breaking. Amit's face lit up with joy, pulling her into a hug, oblivious to the truth. "Our miracle baby!" he exclaimed. The family erupted in cheers, hugs, and sweets distributed—overjoyed at the news. Urvashi smiled warmly, but a spark of envy flickered; her own life felt routine despite the passion with Zaid.
Urvashi returned to Mumbai briefly before the family settled, diving back into her affair with renewed vigor. In Zaid's apartment, the sessions were regular and intense. One evening, she arrived in a simple saree, which he unwrapped like a gift. Pushing her against the wall, he took her from behind in doggy style, his hands gripping her hips as he thrust deeply. "Ahh, Zaid... deeper, yes!" she moaned, her multiple orgasms crashing over her like waves. He flipped her for oral, his tongue expertly teasing her clit until she squirted, then filled her mouth with his release. As they lay spent, Urvashi heard about Rashi's news via family chat and felt that envy—wanting that joy, even if her passion was secret.
Meanwhile, Pallavi, on her honeymoon in Goa, couldn't resist teasing Zaid. Late one night, after unsatisfying sex with Rohan—quick and mechanical—she messaged Zaid: "Husband tried, but it's nothing like you. Miss the real thrill." Attached was a blurry video from her phone: her riding Rohan in the dim hotel light, her moans forced and lackluster, breasts bouncing unenthusiastically. Zaid watched, aroused but conflicted, replying with a winking emoji and a promise of more.
The family reconvened for a celebratory dinner in Mumbai, the table laden with biryani, paneer tikka, and gulab jamun. Discussions revolved around Rashi's pregnancy—names, nursery plans, and old wives' tales. "I'm staying in India permanently," Rashi declared, her hand on her belly. "Resigning from Dubai. The baby needs family." Amit beamed, kissing her forehead, while Urvashi nodded supportively, her mind drifting to her own desires. The evening ended with toasts, the air filled with laughter, but beneath it, the women's secrets wove a tangled web of passion and possibility.
Just before the main ceremonies began, as the baraat prepared to arrive, Zaid seized his chance. The resort's rooms overlooked lush gardens, and Pallavi's bridal suite had a private balcony shrouded by climbing vines. Heart pounding, Zaid scaled the low wall and slipped onto the balcony like a shadow. Pallavi, the 26-year-old bride-to-be, was alone, adjusting her heavy bridal lehenga in the mirror. Her figure was lithe yet voluptuous, with pert breasts straining against the embroidered blouse, her fair skin glowing under the golden jewelry. She gasped as Zaid's strong hands wrapped around her waist from behind, his breath hot against her neck.
"Zaid! Kya kar rahe ho? (What are you doing?)" she whispered, her voice a mix of shock and excitement, but she didn't pull away. Her dark eyes met his in the reflection, sparkling with mischief.
"Ek last thrill, before you become someone else's," he murmured, his fingers already hiking up the layers of her lehenga. Pallavi's breath hitched as he pressed against her, his hardness evident through his pants. She had teased him relentlessly in texts, her youthful confidence masking her curiosity about the passion Urvashi had hinted at. Now, with the wedding pheras looming, the thrill turned real.
He spun her around, their lips crashing in a hungry kiss. Pallavi moaned softly, her hands fumbling with his zipper as he backed her against the balcony railing. "Pre-marriage thrills turning real... ahh, Zaid, make it quick," she panted, her voice laced with urgency. Zaid wasted no time, lifting her lehenga fully and sliding her panties aside. His circumcised cock, thick and veined at 7 inches, sprang free, and he thrust into her wetness with a groan. Pallavi's nails dug into his shoulders, her moans muffled against his chest as he pumped rhythmically—deep, insistent strokes that made her legs tremble.
"Oh god, it's so good... harder, Zaid, just like that," she whimpered, her body arching as waves of pleasure built. The risk heightened everything—the distant sounds of guests below, the possibility of interruption. Zaid's hands roamed her breasts, pinching her nipples through the fabric until she cried out softly. He climaxed first, spilling deep inside her with a shudder, and Pallavi followed, her walls clenching around him in ecstasy. As he pulled out, his cum began to drip slowly down her thighs, warm and sticky under the lehenga.
They parted breathlessly, Zaid slipping away just as a knock sounded at the door—her makeup artist. Pallavi straightened her clothes, feeling the illicit warmth trickle with every step, a secret thrill that made her smile through the nervousness.
The ceremonies unfolded in a blur of colors and chants. Pallavi walked the pheras around the sacred fire with her groom, a steady but unremarkable man named Rohan, her lehenga swishing elegantly. But as she circled, she felt Zaid's essence dripping further, a naughty reminder pooling at her inner thighs. She caught Zaid's eye from the crowd, his smirk knowing, and bit her lip to suppress a grin. Urvashi, watching from the front row, sensed the tension but attributed it to wedding jitters.
As the night wore on and the rituals concluded, the family retired to their suites. Rashi, who had flown in from Dubai just days ago, felt a wave of exhaustion mixed with something else—nausea that had plagued her since the flight. Her early-30s figure was elegant, with long wavy hair and expressive eyes, but her milky fair skin looked paler than usual. She cornered Zaid in a quiet corridor near the banquet hall, her saree clinging to her ample curves.
"Zaid," she hissed, pulling him into an empty guest room. "We need to talk about what I saw. That wardrobe stunt? If you want me to keep quiet about you and Urvashi—and now Pallavi too—you owe me."
Zaid's eyes darkened with a mix of arousal and caution. Rashi had always been vivacious, her perky pink nipples and frustrated desires from her impotent husband Amit making her a powder keg. "What do you want, Bhabhi?" he asked, stepping closer.
"Full satisfaction," she demanded, her voice husky. She pushed him onto the bed, her hands undoing his sherwani as she straddled him. Zaid obliged, his mouth claiming hers in a fierce kiss. Rashi's nausea flickered but was drowned by desire as she deep-throated him, her lips stretching around his thick shaft, gagging slightly but persisting with expert suction. "Mmm, you're bigger than I imagined," she murmured, saliva dripping.
He flipped her onto her back, spreading her legs wide and wrapping them around his waist. Entering her in missionary, he thrust deeply, her walls gripping him tightly. "Ahh, yes... fuck me like Amit never could," Rashi moaned, her nails raking his back. The intensity built—sweat-slicked bodies slapping together, her breasts bouncing with each powerful stroke. But midway, nausea surged; she clenched her eyes, fighting it as pleasure overtook. Zaid climaxed with a groan, filling her with a hot liquid, and Rashi shattered in orgasm, her body convulsing.
As he pulled out, the nausea won. Rashi bolted to the bathroom, puking into the sink, her body heaving. Zaid followed, concerned, rubbing her back. "Are you okay?"
She wiped her mouth, a realization dawning. "Zaid... get me a pregnancy test kit. Discreetly. Now."
He nodded, slipping out to a nearby pharmacy under the guise of fetching medicine for a guest. Back in the room, Rashi peed on the stick, her hands trembling. Two lines appeared—positive. Tears welled up; she knew it was Faisal's from Dubai, not Amit's or even Qadir's. But the family would assume otherwise.
The wedding ended with emotional farewells and vidai, the resort emptying as guests departed. Back in their family home in Lucknow a few days later, Rashi gathered everyone—Amit, and the parents—for a tearful confession. "I'm pregnant," she announced, her voice breaking. Amit's face lit up with joy, pulling her into a hug, oblivious to the truth. "Our miracle baby!" he exclaimed. The family erupted in cheers, hugs, and sweets distributed—overjoyed at the news. Urvashi smiled warmly, but a spark of envy flickered; her own life felt routine despite the passion with Zaid.
Urvashi returned to Mumbai briefly before the family settled, diving back into her affair with renewed vigor. In Zaid's apartment, the sessions were regular and intense. One evening, she arrived in a simple saree, which he unwrapped like a gift. Pushing her against the wall, he took her from behind in doggy style, his hands gripping her hips as he thrust deeply. "Ahh, Zaid... deeper, yes!" she moaned, her multiple orgasms crashing over her like waves. He flipped her for oral, his tongue expertly teasing her clit until she squirted, then filled her mouth with his release. As they lay spent, Urvashi heard about Rashi's news via family chat and felt that envy—wanting that joy, even if her passion was secret.
Meanwhile, Pallavi, on her honeymoon in Goa, couldn't resist teasing Zaid. Late one night, after unsatisfying sex with Rohan—quick and mechanical—she messaged Zaid: "Husband tried, but it's nothing like you. Miss the real thrill." Attached was a blurry video from her phone: her riding Rohan in the dim hotel light, her moans forced and lackluster, breasts bouncing unenthusiastically. Zaid watched, aroused but conflicted, replying with a winking emoji and a promise of more.
The family reconvened for a celebratory dinner in Mumbai, the table laden with biryani, paneer tikka, and gulab jamun. Discussions revolved around Rashi's pregnancy—names, nursery plans, and old wives' tales. "I'm staying in India permanently," Rashi declared, her hand on her belly. "Resigning from Dubai. The baby needs family." Amit beamed, kissing her forehead, while Urvashi nodded supportively, her mind drifting to her own desires. The evening ended with toasts, the air filled with laughter, but beneath it, the women's secrets wove a tangled web of passion and possibility.
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