The wedding had been a whirlwind of colors, music, and laughter. Rajesh’s senses were overloaded—eyes darting from one aunt to the next, their heavy silk sarees shimmering under the marquee lights, their jasmine-scented hair brushing against his cheeks as they hugged him tightly. Too tightly. Each embrace sent a jolt of something electric through him, something he couldn’t quite name but felt acutely in the pit of his stomach. “Beta, you’ve grown so tall!” Meena aunty cooed, her voice warm and melodic as she pulled him into her arms. Her ample bosom pressed against his chest, and Rajesh froze, his breath catching. She smelled like sandalwood and something sweet—almond oil, maybe—and her softness was overwhelming. He stammered something incoherent, his face burning as she laughed, her cheeks dimpling. The day bled into night, and the wedding revelry continued. Rajesh found himself seated at a table with Meena aunty, who was breastfeeding her toddler, her sari draped modestly over her shoulder. He tried not to look, but it was impossible not to notice the curve of her breast, the way her fingers gently cradled the baby’s head. His heart raced, and he quickly excused himself, retreating to the relative safety of the guest room where he’d been assigned a bed. But as the night deepened, the house grew quiet, and Rajesh found himself sharing the room with Meena aunty. She had offered to sleep in the same space, insisting it was no trouble. “It’s just like when you were a little boy,” she said, smiling warmly. Rajesh nodded, his throat dry, as she changed into a simple nightie and settled onto the bed beside him. The room was dimly lit by a single lamp, and the air was thick with the scent of jasmine and the faint, milky sweetness of her skin. Rajesh lay rigidly on his side, staring at the wall, but his body was ablaze with awareness. He could hear her soft breathing, feel the warmth radiating from her body just inches away. Hours passed, but sleep eluded him. Every rustle of fabric, every sigh from Meena aunty sent his pulse racing. Finally, unable to resist, he turned slightly, stealing a glance at her. She was asleep, her face serene, her nightie loosely draped over her curves. His eyes lingered on the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the way the fabric clung to her in the most tantalizing way. His hand moved of its own accord, trembling as he reached out. He hesitated, his heart pounding, then gently brushed his fingers against her arm. She didn’t stir. Emboldened, he shifted closer, his body pressing lightly against hers. The warmth of her skin sent a shiver through him, and he inhaled deeply, catching the faint scent of breastmilk mingling with her natural aroma. It was intoxicating. His hand crept higher, grazing her shoulder, then her neck. Still, she slept. Blood roared in his ears as his fingers trailed down to her chest, skimming over the fabric of her nightie. He could feel the softness of her breast beneath, the way it yielded under his touch. His breath came in shallow gasps as he dared to cup her gently, his thumb brushing over the peak of her nipple. Meena aunty shifted slightly, murmuring something in her sleep, and Rajesh froze, his heart hammering. But she didn’t wake. Slowly, he moved his hand again, his fingers trembling as they found the buttons of her nightie. One by one, he undid them, his movements agonizingly slow. The fabric parted, revealing the curve of her breast, the darkened areola puckered and inviting. Rajesh’s mouth went dry as he stared, transfixed. He couldn’t resist. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to her nipple, tasting the faint sweetness of milk on his tongue. She stirred again, this time more noticeably, and Rajesh pulled away, panic surging through him. But she merely sighed and turned onto her side, her back now facing him. His heart was racing, but he couldn’t stop. His hands moved to her hips, gripping her through the fabric of her nightie. He pressed himself against her, feeling the softness of her buttocks against his growing arousal. His breath hitched as he hesitated, then slowly lifted the hem of her nightie, exposing her creamy flesh. The sight of her bare skin sent a jolt of heat through him, and he couldn’t resist running his fingers along the curve of her hip, marveling at the softness. Meena aunty shifted again, and Rajesh’s hand stilled, his heart pounding as he waited. But she didn’t wake. Emboldened, he leaned closer, his lips brushing against the nape of her neck. “Meena aunty,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath. She stirred, murmuring softly, “Hmm?” Rajesh froze, his heart in his throat. Then, to his shock, she reached back, her fingers brushing against his arm. “Rajesh?” she murmured sleepily, her voice thick with drowsiness. He didn’t know what to say, his mind racing, but before he could pull away, she turned slightly, her eyes half-lidded as she looked at him. “Are you okay, beta?” she asked, her voice soft with concern. Rajesh’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His heart was pounding, his body screaming with need, but he couldn’t move. Meena aunty reached up, her hand brushing against his cheek. “You’re trembling,” she said, her voice gentle. “Are you cold?” He shook his head, his throat tight. “N-no, aunty,” he managed to whisper. She smiled faintly, her eyes closing again as she shifted closer to him. “Come here,” she murmured, pulling him into her arms. Rajesh’s breath caught as her warmth enveloped him, her body pressed against his. He could feel her heartbeat, steady and calm, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside him. “Sleep, beta,” she whispered, her voice fading as she drifted off again. Rajesh lay there, his body tense, his mind in turmoil. But as the minutes passed, exhaustion crept in, and eventually, he succumbed to sleep, still wrapped in her embrace. The morning light filtered through the curtains, and Rajesh woke to the sound of someone knocking on the door. He sat up abruptly, his heart racing as the events of the night came flooding back. Meena aunty stirred beside him, stretching lazily before sitting up. She glanced at him, her eyes warm and unguarded. “Did you sleep well, beta?” she asked, her voice soft with affection. Rajesh swallowed hard, his mouth dry. “Y-yes, aunty,” he stammered, his face burning. She smiled, reaching out to tousle his hair. “Good,” she said, standing and smoothing out her nightie. “Let’s get ready for the day.” As she moved about the room, Rajesh couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, his heart still pounding as the memory of her body against his played over and over in his mind. The knock came again, and Meena aunty called out, “Coming!” She glanced back at Rajesh, her smile gentle. “Are you coming, beta?” Rajesh nodded, his throat tight, and stood, his mind still reeling as he followed her to the door.

At the wedding, Rajesh experiences strong, unsettling emotions upon encountering Meena aunty, who sleeps in the same room as him that night. Throughout the night, Rajesh physically approaches Meena aunty several times, brushing his fingers against her skin, undoing her nightie, and pressing his lips to her nipple, but she does not wake. Eventually, Meena aunty wakes and, mistaking Rajesh's presence for insomnia, she comforts him by embracing him.

The wedding had been a whirlwind of colors, music, and laughter. Rajesh’s senses were overloaded—eyes darting from one aunt to the next, their heavy silk sarees shimmering under the marquee lights, their jasmine-scented hair brushing against his cheeks as they hugged him tightly. _Too tightly._ Each embrace sent a jolt of something electric through him, something he couldn’t quite name but felt acutely in the pit of his stomach.  

“Beta, you’ve grown so tall!” Meena aunty cooed, her voice warm and melodic as she pulled him into her arms. Her ample bosom pressed against his chest, and Rajesh froze, his breath catching. She smelled like sandalwood and something sweet—almond oil, maybe—and her softness was overwhelming. He stammered something incoherent, his face burning as she laughed, her cheeks dimpling.  

The day bled into night, and the wedding revelry continued. Rajesh found himself seated at a table with Meena aunty, who was breastfeeding her toddler, her sari draped modestly over her shoulder. He tried not to look, but it was impossible not to notice the curve of her breast, the way her fingers gently cradled the baby’s head. His heart raced, and he quickly excused himself, retreating to the relative safety of the guest room where he’d been assigned a bed.  

But as the night deepened, the house grew quiet, and Rajesh found himself sharing the room with Meena aunty. She had offered to sleep in the same space, insisting it was no trouble. “It’s just like when you were a little boy,” she said, smiling warmly. Rajesh nodded, his throat dry, as she changed into a simple nightie and settled onto the bed beside him.  

The room was dimly lit by a single lamp, and the air was thick with the scent of jasmine and the faint, milky sweetness of her skin. Rajesh lay rigidly on his side, staring at the wall, but his body was ablaze with awareness. He could hear her soft breathing, feel the warmth radiating from her body just inches away.  

Hours passed, but sleep eluded him. Every rustle of fabric, every sigh from Meena aunty sent his pulse racing. Finally, unable to resist, he turned slightly, stealing a glance at her. She was asleep, her face serene, her nightie loosely draped over her curves. His eyes lingered on the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the way the fabric clung to her in the most tantalizing way.  

His hand moved of its own accord, trembling as he reached out. He hesitated, his heart pounding, then gently brushed his fingers against her arm. She didn’t stir. Emboldened, he shifted closer, his body pressing lightly against hers.  

The warmth of her skin sent a shiver through him, and he inhaled deeply, catching the faint scent of breastmilk mingling with her natural aroma. It was intoxicating. His hand crept higher, grazing her shoulder, then her neck. Still, she slept.  

Blood roared in his ears as his fingers trailed down to her chest, skimming over the fabric of her nightie. He could feel the softness of her breast beneath, the way it yielded under his touch. His breath came in shallow gasps as he dared to cup her gently, his thumb brushing over the peak of her nipple.  

Meena aunty shifted slightly, murmuring something in her sleep, and Rajesh froze, his heart hammering. But she didn’t wake. Slowly, he moved his hand again, his fingers trembling as they found the buttons of her nightie. One by one, he undid them, his movements agonizingly slow.  

The fabric parted, revealing the curve of her breast, the darkened areola puckered and inviting. Rajesh’s mouth went dry as he stared, transfixed. He couldn’t resist. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to her nipple, tasting the faint sweetness of milk on his tongue.  

She stirred again, this time more noticeably, and Rajesh pulled away, panic surging through him. But she merely sighed and turned onto her side, her back now facing him. His heart was racing, but he couldn’t stop. His hands moved to her hips, gripping her through the fabric of her nightie. He pressed himself against her, feeling the softness of her buttocks against his growing arousal.  

His breath hitched as he hesitated, then slowly lifted the hem of her nightie, exposing her creamy flesh. The sight of her bare skin sent a jolt of heat through him, and he couldn’t resist running his fingers along the curve of her hip, marveling at the softness.  

Meena aunty shifted again, and Rajesh’s hand stilled, his heart pounding as he waited. But she didn’t wake. Emboldened, he leaned closer, his lips brushing against the nape of her neck.  

“Meena aunty,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath.  

She stirred, murmuring softly, “Hmm?”  

Rajesh froze, his heart in his throat. Then, to his shock, she reached back, her fingers brushing against his arm.  

“Rajesh?” she murmured sleepily, her voice thick with drowsiness.  

He didn’t know what to say, his mind racing, but before he could pull away, she turned slightly, her eyes half-lidded as she looked at him.  

“Are you okay, beta?” she asked, her voice soft with concern.  

Rajesh’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His heart was pounding, his body screaming with need, but he couldn’t move.  

Meena aunty reached up, her hand brushing against his cheek. “You’re trembling,” she said, her voice gentle. “Are you cold?”  

He shook his head, his throat tight. “N-no, aunty,” he managed to whisper.  

She smiled faintly, her eyes closing again as she shifted closer to him. “Come here,” she murmured, pulling him into her arms.  

Rajesh’s breath caught as her warmth enveloped him, her body pressed against his. He could feel her heartbeat, steady and calm, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside him.  

“Sleep, beta,” she whispered, her voice fading as she drifted off again.  

Rajesh lay there, his body tense, his mind in turmoil. But as the minutes passed, exhaustion crept in, and eventually, he succumbed to sleep, still wrapped in her embrace.  

The morning light filtered through the curtains, and Rajesh woke to the sound of someone knocking on the door. He sat up abruptly, his heart racing as the events of the night came flooding back.  

Meena aunty stirred beside him, stretching lazily before sitting up. She glanced at him, her eyes warm and unguarded.  

“Did you sleep well, beta?” she asked, her voice soft with affection.  

Rajesh swallowed hard, his mouth dry. “Y-yes, aunty,” he stammered, his face burning.  

She smiled, reaching out to tousle his hair. “Good,” she said, standing and smoothing out her nightie. “Let’s get ready for the day.”  

As she moved about the room, Rajesh couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, his heart still pounding as the memory of her body against his played over and over in his mind.  

The knock came again, and Meena aunty called out, “Coming!”  

She glanced back at Rajesh, her smile gentle. “Are you coming, beta?”  

Rajesh nodded, his throat tight, and stood, his mind still reeling as he followed her to the door.

In "Rajesh's First Taste," an 18-year-old Indian boy, unfulfilled and brimming with hormones, finds himself sleeping next to his striking aunt Meena at a family wedding, leading to a night of exploration, passion, and dangerous temptation as he indulges in the sensual pleasures of her body, unaware of the consequences that await.

Rajesh's First Taste

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