Incest My Mother The Whore

[vault]

My Mother The Whore by Anonymous.
All credit to original author



New Delhi, March, 1986. She was completely naked, with her back to me. I could see her cunt clearly. Worse still: she had his penis, his lund, in her mouth, and she was sucking it. Her head was bobbing up and down and his feet were twitching, and his hands were grabbing her ass and her tits. He was using language that I had never heard him use before.


“Tu kya mast lund choosti hai. Haan, aise hi choos mera lund. Pehle mera lund choos, phir main tujhe chodunga. You suck cock so well. Yeah baby, keep sucking it. I want to cum in your mouth before I cum in your cunt”.

*** I was 18 years old, the only son of an average middle class Indian family. My parents were both teachers. My father taught in a college, and my mother did tuitions and was a substitute English teacher for a school in the area.

My father, at that time, was almost 40 years old, 5’7” and in good shape. He was an honest and religious man, devoted to his family and his job. The ideal Indian father, the kind you see in the movies. Now I know that he was also probably frustrated with his inability to do much more than put food on the table and a roof over our heads.

My mother was in her mid-40s. At 5’2”, she was short, with a very fair complexion, and even at my young age I knew she was prettier than any of the other mothers or women her age. Theirs was an arranged marriage, set up with just a simple exchange of black and white pictures through a common family friend.

We lived in a small rented two-room flat in the Lodi Colony area of New Delhi. It was tight, but we were a small family. You would walk in to a small living room with a sofa and coffee table and a flickering tube-light on the main wall to the right. On the left, the living room connected to a small kitchen without a door. Straight across from the front door another set of narrow double doors led to a small bedroom that barely held a double-bed and an adjoining bathroom. I remember distinctly that the double doors were jammed and never shut all the way so if I needed to I could quietly use the bathroom at night.

Every night, we would move the coffee table off to a vacant corner with just a little standing lamp and, in the middle of the room, stretch out a reed chattai mat and a rolled up mattress on which I slept. My parents slept in the bedroom.

As for me, I was a normal, skinny kid growing up in a world of love and innocence. I had just started figuring out from friends that adults engaged in sex but couldn’t for the life of me figure out how. I had heard words like fuck, chodna, choot, lund, lawda, gaand, cock, pussy and cunt, which we spoke in hushed voices, though none of us really knew what they meant. All I knew was that “fucking” was something grown-ups did naked in either the bathroom or the bedroom, but I really wasn’t quite sure where and how. I just thought it to be completely disgusting and was very sure that my parents would never do it.

*** In early March, 1986 we received a telegram that my grandmother was very sick. My father had to go to his hometown in ,.'abad. He was gone that same day. That night, my mom suggested that I sleep in the bedroom with her while my father was away, and I did. It was all very innocent and even though I was getting older, I enjoyed the rare occasion when I got to sleep in my parents’ bed. It was wonderful being asleep next to my mother as she caressed my hair.

The next day when I came back home, my mom said that my father called on our landlord’s phone to say that he would be away for at least a week. Also, she said, she’d received a letter from my Sunil dada (dada means elder brother) saying that he would be in Delhi for a business trip and would be coming over that night. I was very excited, as Sunil dada was a lot of fun. He was the son of close family friends who had moved out of Delhi several years ago. He was 22 years old, from a very hard-working Kashmiri family of a lower caste, and was working in Bombay as a Sales Rep. He used to come often and used to be pretty much a fixture in our house when we lived next to them many years ago. I often came home from school to find him stopping by on his way back from college for my mom’s cooking.

He showed up late that evening. He was about 5’11”, and like many Kashmiris, very fair, and in great shape. He seemed excited to see us and wanted to chat, but it was getting late, and we all went to sleep. My mother and I slept in the bedroom, and Sunil dada in the living room, where I normally slept. I cuddled up next to my mother and was soon fast asleep.

*** It was very dark, and very quiet. But I could hear strange and distant sounds as I slept. I put my right arm over to cuddle next to my mom, but felt only an empty bed. I reached further, and still emptiness. The sounds, still muffled, grew louder till they woke me up. Finding myself alone in my bed, I opened my eyes, sat up, and noticed the light in the living room.

And then I heard the sounds. Weird sounds of a kind I could not quite place. I got to the door, and looked through the opening in the jammed doors, and what I saw scared me out of my skin.