My name’s Hassan Ayaz, 18 years old, from Hangu and Islamabad. I’m a good-looking, fit guy, the kind who turns heads. I’ve got a bunch of friends, but Fozia’s special—man, I miss her a lot. This story’s from a year ago, a real slice of my life that’s stuck in my head and heart. So, buckle up, folks, this one’s a wild ride through the dusty lanes of Hangu to a steamy paradise.
It all started when I came to Hangu, my nani’s town, for the holidays from Islamabad. I’ve got a close mate there, Umar, 24, a solid guy with a big laugh and a bigger heart. He’s been married for three years to Jannat, a 22-year-old stunner—fair, curvy, with eyes that pull you in and a smile that’s sweet but hides something naughty. Umar’s parents passed away, and he’s their only son, with a married sister living far off and a kid of his own.
When I got to Hangu, I went straight to Umar’s place to catch up. But he wasn’t there—just Jannat, sitting alone in their courtyard. I asked, “Where’s Umar?” She looked down, voice low, and said, “He’s gone to the Emirates for a visa visit. Three months. One’s already passed, two more to go.” Felt weird he didn’t tell me. I chatted with Jannat a bit—she’s my cousin, by the way—then headed home. Her house is close to ours, so she often pops by.
Back home, I asked my mom, “Umar’s off to Dubai and didn’t even tell me?” While talking, I slipped in, “It’s been three years since his marriage, how come they don’t have more kids?” Mom just said, “It’s God’s will, beta.” I was knackered from the trip, so I crashed in my room.
Next morning, I woke up late and found Jannat at our place. I greeted her and teased, “What brings you here today?” She smiled faintly and said, “What to do? Home’s empty without Umar. I get bored alone, so I come here daily. Your place is nearby, unlike my mom’s, which is too far to visit every day.” I joked, “Why don’t you have a kid? It’ll keep you busy, and I love kids, so I’ll have someone to play with.” Her face turned serious. She gave me a strange look and said, “A kid’s not possible.” Those eyes were saying something I couldn’t figure out. I wondered why she was staring like that.
That same morning, my family was heading to my uncle’s place. I was still sleeping, so Dad locked the door from outside. When I woke up, I nearly jumped—Jannat was sitting on my bed, running her fingers through my hair. The door was locked, so I had no clue when she slipped in. “Everything okay? Why’re you here so early? Nobody’s home,” I asked, shocked. She said softly, “Hassan, I need to talk.” I nodded, “Go on, what’s up?” She hesitated, “I don’t have the guts to say it. Promise you won’t tell anyone.” I swore I wouldn’t.
She stepped out of the room, then said, “Hassan, I want a baby. People look at me weirdly, wondering why I don’t have kids. It’s not my fault. I’d die for a child, please.” I was stunned. “What can I do?” I asked. She came back inside and dropped a bomb: “Umar’s dick is too small. When he puts it in my pussy, he finishes too quick and pulls out. His cum spills out because it doesn’t reach where it needs to. His dick’s just too small.”
She went on, “Umar had some illness as a kid. It went away, but his dick stayed small. He even had surgery, but it didn’t help.” My mind was blown. I put my hand on her shoulder and said, “Jannat, I get what you’re saying.” Her eyes were restless, but I knew what she meant. I was ready, though a bit scared—she’s my cousin, and Umar’s my mate.
I tried to hug her, but she pulled back and said, “No romance. Just take off your shalwar, I’ll take off mine. Put it in quick and get it done.” That pissed me off, but I kept quiet and dropped my shalwar. She saw my 7-inch cock, already hard as a rock from her dirty talk, standing like the Burj Khalifa. She pulled down her shalwar and said, “Hurry up.” I tried to enter her, but her pussy was so tight, it wouldn’t go in. I thought about grabbing some oil, but before I could, she took my cock in her hand and started jerking it. Her warm touch set me on fire.
I grabbed her full, juicy boobs. She didn’t stop me—she was getting hot too. I pushed her gently onto the bed and started a deep French kiss, my tongue dancing with hers. My finger slid over her pussy, teasing the wet folds. She gripped my cock tighter, stroking it faster. I sucked her lips, her tongue, while my finger explored her dripping pussy. Her breaths were heavy, her body trembling.
After kissing, I pulled off her kameez. Her boobs, trapped in a tight bra, drove me wild. I bit them over the fabric, unable to control myself. Boobs are my weakness—I go crazy for them. She moaned, “Aahhh… uff… Hassan, easy, are you mad?” I unhooked her bra, and her pink nipples made me lose it. I licked, sucked, and nibbled them, while she moaned louder, “Aaaahhh… ooooh… haaaa…” My finger kept rubbing her pussy, now soaking wet, sliding in easily. She was gasping, “Aaaahhh… ooooh…”
For 15 minutes, I teased her like that until she begged, “Hassan, stop torturing me, put it in, please!” I smirked, “Didn’t you say no romance?” She was too horny to care, desperate for release. I placed my cock at her pussy’s entrance and pushed slowly. She screamed, “Hhhhiii… aaahhh… I’m dying!” Her pussy was wet, so no oil was needed. I started thrusting gently, her warm, tight pussy gripping my cock like heaven. She moaned with every thrust, “Aaaahhh… ooooh… maaa… I’m done for…”
I picked up the pace, pounding harder. She screamed, “Please… take it out… it hurts!” I felt bad, so I pulled out. After a moment, I entered again, slower this time, thrusting steadily. For 10 minutes, I went in and out, her moans filling the room. Suddenly, she went quiet, her face twisted, then she screamed, “Aaaahhh… haaaa… ooooh…” I knew she’d cum. Her hot juices coated my cock, making it slicker, and the pleasure was unreal. I grabbed her boobs, squeezing hard, and she started moving her hips, riding my cock herself.
I kissed her again, my lips locked on hers, one hand on her boobs, the other squeezing her ass. She screamed again, “Maaa… I’m dead… ooooh…” I was spent, so I asked, “Why’re you screaming now?” She panted, “When your cum shot inside, it hit the right spot. It felt so good.” We hugged, kissing deeply again. My cock got hard again, and I got her worked up for another round. We fucked again, with even more passion.
I stayed in the village for seven days, and in that time, I fucked Jannat three times—twice the first day, and once on the last day before I left. A month ago, I called the village and found out Jannat’s pregnant. I was thrilled but also weirded out. At 18, I’m a father. This isn’t just a story—it’s real. Jannat’s my cousin, my friend’s wife, and now the mother of my child. One question haunts me: What kind of bond is this?
So, guys, what did you think of my story? Ever been in a crazy situation like this? Drop your thoughts in the comments—I’m dying to hear them.