Adultery The Motherly Slut of Paschim Vihar

[Aragon]

It is great that you will back very soon.. Waiting for next update

[Cuckson420]

make mom slut and let people humiliate her and her son and enjoy her in public make her wear shorts with no panties and take her on buss make her son help his friends to fuck her and let trade her son money ,hotels, clothes to get entry in party or to win a game use her fully

[garamrohan]

Hi folks,

I came to my hometown to spend some time with my Family, my father was a bit unwell. I will resume the stories soon. Apologies for being AWOL. I assure you it's not a dead story, just one more week, and once I am back in Hyderabad, I will resume with full gusto.

Sure bro. Please take your time.I really like your both stories. Craving to read more sizzling updates from you.

[Aragon]

Waiting for the next update bro.

[Aragon]

Any chance of upadte!?!?

[Aragon]

Update nehi Aayega??

[masti.bhai]

Update, please

[Projectmp]

Dead story just like the other

[Givemeextra]

Hi folks,

I came to my hometown to spend some time with my Family, my father was a bit unwell. I will resume the stories soon. Apologies for being AWOL. I assure you it's not a dead story, just one more week, and once I am back in Hyderabad, I will resume with full gusto.

Dear Author,

Where are you. Your story updates are pending.

[Aragon]

This story has lot of potential.. Very sad that ye story close ho gaya....

[Aragon]

Wish that ye story v aab continue hoga

[bikiniking]

Wish that ye story v aab continue hoga

Yes, working on the next update. Will come before the weekend.

[Aragon]

Update kaab aayega bro??

[Aragon]

Update kaab aayega bhai??

[santhu304]

Update bro

[Aragon]

Weekend v chala aya bro....

[Aragon]

Weekend v chala gaya bhai.. Update kaab ayega??

[Aragon]

Very sad to see that the update is not coming

[pratap240]

Pls continue

[bikiniking]

Continuing the story...  :shy:


The next morning, I woke up with a heavy head, the kind you get when you’ve slept too little and thought too much. The image of Sahil’s lips on my mom’s, her soft moans, and that damn video she sent to this mysterious Riya kept replaying in my mind like a bad Bollywood song stuck on loop. I couldn’t shake it off, no matter how hard I tried to focus on the upcoming cricket match against Dwarka’s team. My dad was due back in a couple of days, and I wondered how things would play out with Sahil sniffing around like a stray dog in Paschim Vihar’s posh lanes.

I dragged myself out of bed, the sunlight streaming through my window feeling more like an interrogation spotlight than a warm Delhi morning. Downstairs, the aroma of parathas and chai hit me, pulling me toward the kitchen. Mom was there, humming a tune - some old Kishore Kumar classic while flipping a paratha on the tawa. She was wearing a simple cotton salwar kameez, the kind she wore when she was in “homely mode,” but the way the dupatta loosely dbangd over her shoulder did nothing to hide her curves. Her hair was tied in a messy bun, and she looked… radiant. Too radiant for someone who’d been locking lips with my friend the night before.



“Morning, beta,” she said cheerfully, not turning around. “Your protein shake’s on the counter. I added some almonds today - extra energy for the match.”

“Thanks, Maa,” I mumbled, grabbing the glass. I wanted to ask her about last night, about Riya, about why she let Sahil get so close, but the words stuck in my throat like a half-chewed piece of naan. Instead, I watched her move around the kitchen, her bangles jingling softly as she plated the parathas. There was something different about her today a lightness in her step, a spark in her eyes. Was it Sahil? Or was I just imagining things?

“Big day today, huh?” she said, finally turning to face me. Her smile was warm, but I couldn’t help but notice the faint blush on her cheeks. “Next team is tough, but I know you’ll smash it. Your dad’s been texting me, asking for updates. He’s so proud of you.”

“Yeah, let’s hope I don’t screw up like yesterday,” I said, taking a sip of the shake. It tasted nutty and sweet, but my stomach was churning with something else entirely. “Maa, kal raat…”

Her eyes flickered for a moment, but she quickly busied herself with wiping the counter. “What about it, Bunty? You didn’t like the movie? I told you to go to bed early.”

“No, not the movie,” I said, my voice low. “Sahil. He was here… again. And you two were…” I trailed off, unsure how to say it without sounding like a jealous kid.

She laughed, a little too loudly. “Oh, Sahil! He’s such a charmer, isn’t he? Always joking around. He kept me company while I was bored out of my mind with your dad away. You should be happy your friend is so helpful. Changa munda haiga”

“Helpful?” I raised an eyebrow. “He was practically all over you, Maa. And that video… who’s Riya? Kaun hai ye friend?”

Her hand froze mid-wipe, and for a split second, I saw something - guilt? Amusement? It was gone before I could pin it down. She turned to me, her expression a mix of mock annoyance and motherly teasing.

“Arrey, Bunty, bas kar! Riya’s an old friend from my college days. We used to beclose, always pulling pranks and making silly bets. She’s in Delhi now, married to some big-shot lawyer in South Ex. We ran into each other at the mall, and you know how it is - old habits die hard. That video was just a stupid joke to shut her up. Nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious?” I echoed, my voice sharper than I intended. “You were kissing him, Maa. On video. And you sent it to her like it was no big deal.”

She sighed, setting the cloth down and crossing her arms. Her kameez tightened slightly across her breasts, and I cursed myself for noticing.

“Bunty, you’re making a mountain out of a molehill. It was just a peck, a silly dare. Sahil’s a kid, like you. He was playing along. You know how we Punjabis are - always dramatic, always having fun. You should focus on your match, not some silly gossip.”

I wanted to believe her, but the way she brushed it off felt too easy, too rehearsed. And Sahil, a kid? The guy who bet 5000 bucks he could “hook up” with her? I wasn’t buying it. But before I could press further, the doorbell rang, shattering the moment.

“Must be the milkman,” Mom said, hurrying toward the door. I followed her, my curiosity outweighing my frustration. But it wasn’t the milkman. It was Sahil, standing there in a fitted black t-shirt and jeans, holding a small paper bag and grinning like he owned the place.

“Morning, Aunty!” he said, his eyes lighting up as he saw her. “Nathu ki Jalebi for naashta. Thought we could have a sweet start to the day.”

Mom’s face lit up, and she clapped her hands like a kid on Diwali. “Oh, Sahil, you’re too much! Jalebis? My favorite! Come in, come in.”

I stood there, gripping my protein shake so hard I thought the glass might crack. Sahil waltzed in, brushing past me with a casual, “Oye, Bunty, ready to crush today?” His tone was friendly, but his eyes had that glint - the same one he had when he palmed Mom’s ass in the kitchen.

“Uh, yeah,” I muttered, my jaw tight. “What are you doing here so early?”

“Oh, I was in the area,” he said, setting the jalebi bag on the dining table. “Thought I’d drop by and wish you luck for the match. Plus, Aunty mentioned she might need help with some errands later, so I figured I’d swing by now.”

“Errands?” I shot Mom a look. She was already tearing into the jalebi bag, completely oblivious to the tension in the room. Or maybe she was pretending to be.

“Yes, beta,” she said, popping a piece of jalebi into her mouth. “I need to pick up some stuff for your dad’s birthday dinner. Sahil offered to drive me to the market since my car’s acting up again. Isn’t that sweet of him?”

“Ghanta sweet,” I said through gritted teeth. Sahil smirked, and I wanted to wipe that look off his face with a cricket bat. But Mom was already ushering him into the kitchen, offering him chai and parathas like he was some long-lost son.

We sat at the dining table, the three of us, in a bizarrely normal scene that felt anything but. Mom was her usual chatty self, talking about the match, the weather, and how she was planning a big surprise for Dad’s birthday.

Sahil played along, complimenting her cooking, her outfit, her everything. Every time he leaned in to say something to her, his shoulder brushed against hers, and she didn’t pull away. I noticed her dupatta had slipped slightly, revealing the curve of her neck and a hint of cleavage. Sahil’s eyes darted there, and I felt my face heat up.



“So, Sahil,” I said, trying to steer the conversation away from Mom’s charms, “you coming to the match today? Or you too busy… helping out around here?”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Nah, man, I’ll be there. Gotta cheer for my boy Bunty. And Aunty, of course, she’s our biggest fan, right?”

Mom giggled, swatting his arm playfully. “Oh, stop it, Sahil. You’re embarrassing me in front of Bunty.”

“Embarrassing?” Sahil said, his voice dropping to that smooth, flirty tone he’d used last night. “Aunty, you’re the star of the show. I bet half the team plays better just to impress you.”

I nearly choked on my paratha. Mom laughed, her cheeks flushing again, and I couldn’t tell if she was flattered or just playing along. The rest of breakfast was a blur of their banter, with me barely getting a word in. By the time I grabbed my cricket kit and headed out with Mayank, who’d pulled up in his i20, I was fuming.

“Dude, Sahil’s at it again,” I said as we drove to the ground. “He was at my house this morning with freaking jalebis, acting like he’s part of the family.”

Mayank shook his head, his eyes on the road. “Bro, I told you, he’s playing a game. That bet with Manish? He’s not backing down. You gotta do something before it goes too far.” Nahi to Aunty ki le leni hai isne"

“Like what?” I snapped. “Tell my mom her college friend’s a liar and my buddy’s trying to sleep with her? She’ll think I’m crazy.”

“Maybe you confront Sahil,” Mayank suggested. “Call him out. Or, I don’t know, tell your dad when he gets back.”

I groaned, sinking into the passenger seat. Telling Dad was out of the question - he’d either laugh it off or blow up, and neither would help. Confronting Sahil might work, but what if Mom was… into it? The thought made my stomach twist in ways I didn’t want to admit.

Next match was brutal. They were as good as their ranking, and I was off my game, distracted by thoughts of Mom and Sahil. I scored a measly 15 runs before getting caught out, and my fielding was sloppy. The team lost by a narrow margin, and the coaches ripped into us afterward.

Mom was in the stands again, this time in a bright red saree that hugged her curves like it was tailored for sin. Sahil was there too, sitting close enough that their thighs were practically touching. Every time I looked up, they were laughing or whispering, and it drove me nuts.
After the match, Mom came down to console me, her saree pallu slipping slightly as she hugged me. “Don’t worry, beta,” she said, her hand on my cheek. “You’ll get them next time. I’m so proud of you.”


“Thanks, Maa,” I said, my voice flat. Sahil was standing a few feet away, scrolling through his phone, probably texting Manish about his “progress.” I wanted to punch him, but instead, I just nodded when he said, “Tough luck, man. You’ll kill it next match.”


Back home, I was exhausted but too wired to sleep. Mom announced she and Sahil were heading to the market for Dad’s birthday stuff, and I was welcome to join. I declined, saying I needed to study, but really, I just couldn’t stomach watching them flirt anymore. As they left, Mom in her saree and Sahil in his cocky swagger, I felt a mix of anger and something darker - curiosity. What were they doing when I wasn’t around? Was Mom really just “having fun,” or was there more to it?

I decided to snoop. I know it’s not cool to invade your mom’s privacy, but I needed answers. While they were gone, I slipped into her room and checked her phone, which she’d left on the dresser. Her password was my birthday - typical Mom. I opened her WhatsApp and found the chat with Riya. The video was there, trimmed to show just the kiss, with Mom’s “Suck it Bitch!” message. Riya had replied with a string of laughing emojis and, “Damn, girl, you still got it! Call me later, need deets!”

There were other messages too - Riya teasing Mom about “reliving her college days” and “showing these young boys how it’s done.” Mom had replied with winking emojis and vague responses, nothing explicit but enough to make my head spin. Who was this woman? My sweet, paratha-making Maa, flirting like a college girl?

I heard the car pull up and quickly put the phone back. By the time Mom and Sahil walked in, I was in the living room, pretending to watch cricket highlights. They were carrying bags of groceries and decorations, laughing about something that happened at the market. Mom’s saree was slightly disheveled, and Sahil’s hand brushed her lower back as he set the bags down. She didn’t flinch.

“Dinner’s on me tonight, Bahar chalein kahin?” Mom said, beaming. “Sahil’s you in?”
“Of course, Aunty,” he said, winking at her. “Can’t say no to spending time with you.”

I forced a smile, my mind racing. Riya, the bet, the kiss - it was all too much. I needed to figure out what was going on before Dad got back, before Sahil pushed things further. But deep down, a part of me a part I hated - was curious to see how far this would go. I decided not to join them, but maybe follow them to see what the fuck are they up to. 

"Main nahi ja raha, aap log jao. Want to spend some time alone after today's match" I declined to go out.
 
An hour later, Mom came downstairs, and my jaw nearly hit the floor.

She was in a very tight leopard-print leather-look leggings that exude a sultry, untamed allure. Her leggings cling to the body like a second skin, their glossy, animalistic pattern catching the light with every curve. The tight, stretchy fabric hugged every contour, promising a fit that’s both daring and provocative, perfect for turning heads in a dimly lit Delhi nightspot.

The high-waisted design cinched her waist, creating an hourglass silhouette that’s as fierce as it is irresistible, ready to ignite desire with every step. She is ready to be Fucked!!! was all I could think of.

Sahil’s eyes lit up like he’d won the lottery. “Aunty, you’re killing it,” he said, standing a little too close. She giggled, brushing her hair back, and I felt that familiar mix of anger and… something else.



I waited until their car pulled out. Grabbing my hoodie and cap, I hopped on my bike and followed, weaving through Delhi’s chaotic traffic to stay unnoticed. I parked a block from Spice Route, a trendy Rajouri Garden spot with dim lights and thumping music. Through the glass windows, I saw them at a corner booth, Mom’s top catching the glow, Sahil’s arm already brushing hers as they laughed over cocktails.

I slipped inside, cap low, and snagged a table far enough to stay hidden but close enough to watch. The air was thick with tandoori spice and the buzz of Delhi’s elite. Mom leaned toward Sahil, her laughter low and husky, her hand resting on his arm as he whispered something. His fingers grazed her knee under the table, lingering, and she didn’t pull away - just sipped her drink, her lips glistening. My heart pounded, my body betraying me with a heat I couldn’t shake.

As the night wore on, their touches grew bolder. Sahil’s hand slid higher, fingers tracing the length of her thighs. Mom shifted, her legs parting slightly, letting his hand stay. Her top slipped, baring more of her shoulder, and Sahil’s eyes locked on it, his fingers trailing along the neckline, dipping just below. She bit her lip, leaning into him, her chest rising with a slow breath. My hands gripped the table, my pulse racing as I watched his hand caress her thighs with animalistic vigor, her eyes fluttering with a look I’d never seen -raw, unfiltered LUST.

The music pulsed, their bodies close, his arm now dbangd over her shoulders, fingers teasing the edge of her top. Mom tilted her head, her neck exposed, and Sahil’s lips brushed her ear, whispering something that made her giggle and swat him playfully. But her hand lingered on his chest, fingers curling into his shirt. They were in their own world, the dim lights casting shadows over their booth, every touch a secret I wasn’t meant to see. I should’ve stormed over, dragged her home. But I didn’t. I sat there, frozen, my body tense, my mind drowning in jealousy and a shameful, and my dick ERECT!!



To be continued…