me and my cousin

Two cousins reconnect at a family wedding and give in to a forbidden attraction, sharing a passionate night they both know they shouldn't — but can't regret.

The line we crossed

It was supposed to be just another family wedding — distant cousins, awkward hugs, too much wine, and endless photos. You hadn't seen *him* in years. He’d grown up. Taller, leaner, sharper jawline, eyes like storms brewing. And when he smiled at you across the dance floor, it wasn’t the smile of a cousin. It was something else. Something dangerous.

t.me/cumshot922
You told yourself to stop noticing. But he kept finding you — in quiet corners, during casual conversations that lingered too long. There was a look in his eyes like he was holding back just as much as you were.

Later that night, after the music faded and most people had gone to bed, you stepped out for air. He was already on the balcony, cigarette in hand, hoodie over his head. You said nothing at first. Just stood beside him, feeling the tension build like thunder.

"You feel it too, don't you?" he finally said.

You turned to look at him. “We shouldn’t.”

“But we do.”
The air was thick. His hand brushed yours, and neither of you moved away. It wasn’t supposed to happen — but the kiss felt inevitable, like gravity pulling two planets too close. You knew it was wrong. But it felt right in the moment.

You didn’t plan to go back to his room. But the second the door clicked behind you, it was over. Clothes fell. Guilt burned behind every kiss. It was wild, tender, silent — because even the walls couldn’t be trusted.

When you woke up tangled in sheets that smelled like him, reality hit. Your heart raced. Not with regret — but fear. What now?

He looked at you, eyes softer than you'd ever seen them.

"This doesn’t have to mean anything," he whispered. But you both knew it already did.
The morning light was cruel. It spilled over his bare skin, casting a glow that made him look almost innocent. But the weight in your chest wasn’t innocence — it was the truth you both tried to ignore.

You dressed quickly, avoiding his gaze. The silence between you was louder than any words.

"I should go," you said finally.

He nodded, swallowing whatever he wanted to say.

The walk back to your hotel was a blur. Faces blurred, laughter sounded distant. You kept replaying the night over and over — the warmth of his hand, the shock of crossing a line, the undeniable pull you felt.

Back in your room, the mirror caught your reflection. Eyes wide, heart racing, and a secret too heavy to carry