Adultery When Mother Strayed

[Mooni26]

Hi All
I am Shan from bangalore and this is my first story. This is about my mom Nisha.

Nisha is 45 years old, but she still looks good, I guess you could say she's got that 'milf' figure. Her skin is fair and she's got those curves that seem to attract every Tom, Dick, and Harry she crosses paths with. But the thing is, she's not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer. She's uneducated, which makes her really easy to fool. And let me tell you, she's been through the wringer more times than I care to count because of it.

One hot summer afternoon, she comes into my room, fanning herself with a magazine and looking like she's about to melt. "Shan," she says, panting a bit, "the AC in my room isn't working. Can you do something?" She's wearing one of those sleeveless blouses that show off her arms, and I can't help but notice the sweat stains under her armpits. It's a common sight in our house during the summer months, but this time, it's more than just the heat that's bothering her.

"Yeah, sure, Mom," I reply, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. I don't want to deal with her drama, but she's my mom and I can't ignore her. "I'll call the AC technician." She nods, smiling gratefully, and goes back to her room to wait.

While I'm searching for the number, she shouts from the other room, "Shan, make sure he comes soon. I can't take this heat!" I roll my eyes but dial the number for the AC service center. They promise to send someone over within the next hour. I hang up and text her the ETA. She sends a thumbs up emoji in response.

Sure enough, after about fifty minutes, the doorbell rings. I open the door to find a middle-aged man with a thick moustache and a pot belly spilling over his jeans. He's wearing a blue work shirt with the company logo on it, and he wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "I'm Salman, the AC technician," he says with a toothy smile. "Where's the problem?"

I gesture towards Mom's room, and he waddles over with his toolkit in hand. She's sitting on the bed, fanning herself with a piece of cardboard, looking more than a little desperate for relief. "Your son said you're having AC trouble, madam?" he asks, his eyes sweeping over her.

Mom nods eagerly. "Yes, yes. It's not working at all!"

Salman sets down his toolkit and starts to examine the AC unit. His eyes flicker over to her and then back to the AC, and I can't help but feel a little uncomfortable with the way he's looking at her. But I figure he's just tired and the heat is getting to him too.

Mom gets up, smoothing out her blouse, which has stuck to her back with sweat. "I'll just go and make some lunch for us," she says, heading towards the kitchen. "You keep working, Salman. I'll call you when it's ready."

Salman nods, his eyes following her as she leaves. He's definitely checking her out, and I can't blame him. She's got that kind of body that makes heads turn. But I know what she's like, and I know she's oblivious to the effect she has on men. She's always been that way.

As Mom starts cooking in the kitchen, the aroma of spices and sizzling oil fills the air. It's comforting in a way, the familiar scent of home. But it does little to ease the tension I feel as I watch Salman work. There's something about the way he's moving around her room, touching her things, that just feels... wrong. Like he's not just there to fix the AC, but to fix his gaze on her too.

I try to keep my distance, not wanting to be caught up in whatever drama might unfold. But I can't ignore the way he keeps glancing at the bathroom door, as if waiting for something to happen. It's like he's got one foot in his job and the other in some kind of fantasy world where he's not just the technician, but something more.

Mom emerges from the kitchen, a plate of steaming rice and a bowl of sambar in her hands. She's wearing a loose t-shirt and a pair of shorts that show off her legs. I can see the outline of her panties through the fabric, and it hits me that she's not just my mom, but a woman with needs and desires. A woman who's been through enough to know what she wants. But also, a woman who's so trusting that she doesn't see the danger that might be right in front of her.

"Lunch is ready, Salman," she calls out, setting the plate down on the dining table. He wipes his hands on a rag and follows the scent of food, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the spread she's laid out.

"Thank you, madam," he says, sitting down heavily. "Your son said you're a good cook."

Mom blushes at the compliment and giggles. "Oh, I just know how to put a few things together." She sets a glass of water beside his plate and stands back, watching him eat.

As Salman digs into the food, I can see the tension in his shoulders relax. He's obviously enjoying the meal, and I can't help but feel a twinge of pride for my mom. Despite her... flaws, she's got a heart of gold. She really does take care of us.

After a few minutes, she says, "Shan, I can't take this heat anymore. I'm going to take a shower. Make sure Salman doesn't come into my room while I'm in there, okay?" She gives me a look that's half pleading, half commanding. It's clear she doesn't want to be disturbed.

"Sure, Mom," I say, trying to hide the concern in my voice. "I'll keep an eye on things here."

Mom nods and heads back to her room, closing the door behind her. I hear the sound of the shower turning on, and the hiss of water fills the quiet house. I sit down in the living room, pretending to watch TV but really keeping an ear out for any suspicious sounds. Salman finishes his lunch and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He gets up from the table, stretching his back with a grunt.

"Your mom's a great cook," he says, his gaze lingering on the empty plate. "Best sambar I've had in ages."

I force a smile. "Yeah, she's pretty good in the kitchen."

Salman nods, his eyes glinting with something that makes me uneasy. "It's the simple things in life, isn't it?" He says, looking towards Mom's room. "Well, I'd better get back to work. Can't have her waiting in this heat, can we?"

I nod, relieved that he seems to be focusing on his job again. "Yeah, sure. Do you need anything?"

"Well, actually," Salman says, scratching his head, "my shirt's soaked through. Do you think I could borrow one of your dad's? I'd hate to get grease on this one."

I hesitate for a moment, not wanting to leave him unsupervised in the house, but the logic is sound. "Sure," I reply, getting up from the couch. "Let me grab one."

I make my way to Mom's room, trying to ignore the sound of the shower. The door is slightly ajar, and the steam from the bathroom is thick, making the room feel like a sauna. Her clothes are indeed in the laundry basket, and her towel is hanging outside the bathroom door, just as she'd left it. 



I grabbed the towel from the hook and handed it to Salman, feeling a strange sense of excitement at the thought of him using something so intimately connected to my mom. "Here you go," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's the only clean one I could find."

Salman took it with a grateful nod. "Thank you," he murmured, his eyes flicking over the towel before he headed to the bathroom. The door closed behind him, and the sound of running water grew louder as he began to wash up.

I couldn't help but imagine him wiping down his sweaty body with the soft fabric that had only moments before been touching my mom's skin. It was a weird feeling, but it also made me feel... powerful, in a way. Like I was orchestrating a scene without him even knowing it.

The water stopped, and a moment later, Salman emerged, his chest glistening with droplets of water. He'd taken off his shirt, and the towel was barely covering his waist. He had a bit of a beer belly, but underneath, there were surprisingly muscular arms and a hairy chest. He saw me staring and gave me a sheepish grin. "Thanks, Shan," he said, patting his stomach. "Gets hot out there, doesn't it?"

I nodded, my heart racing as I took in the sight of him. "No problem," I replied, trying to act casual. "I'll let Mom know you're done with the AC."

As he went back to Mom's room to finish up, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had just set the stage for something that could potentially change our lives forever. And as much as I knew it was wrong, I couldn't help but feel a twisted kind of anticipation for what might happen next.

Feeling a strange mix of excitement and dread, I came out and called Salman's number, trying to keep my voice steady. "Hi, Salman," I said, once he picked up. "It's Shan. I just wanted to let you know that I'll be going out to catch a movie with friends. It's going to run late, so don't wait for me for dinner. Also, can you tell my mom after her shower that I won't be home until late?"

There was a slight pause on the other end, and I could almost hear the gears turning in his head. "Sure, Shan," he finally said. "I'll let her know. Is there anything else you need?"

"No, that's all," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "Just make sure the AC is fixed before you go."

"Don't worry," he assured me. "It'll be done before you get back."

We hung up, and I couldn't help but wonder what would happen in my absence. Would he take advantage of the situation? Would Mom even notice? Or would she be too lost in her own little world to care? Either way, the thought of him being in the house with her, alone and vulnerable, was like a ticking time bomb in my chest. And as much as I knew it was wrong, a part of me couldn't wait to hear the explosion.

My heart racing, I tiptoe outside to the back of the house, where Mom's room window is. The curtains are drawn slightly apart, allowing me a peek into the steamy room. Through the narrow gap, I see Salman standing on a table, the towel precariously perched around his waist. As he works on the AC, his body moves, and the towel slips, revealing his thick, hairy legs. But what really catches my eye is the unmistakable outline of his manhood pressing against the fabric. It's massive, even when soft, and my cheeks flush as I realize that the size of his cock is anything but soft. It's a sight I never thought I'd see, and I can't tear my gaze away.

He's clearly not shy, because he keeps reaching for his tools without bothering to cover himself, and each time he does, his towel shifts, giving me a tantalizing glimpse of his heavy, dark balls. The room feels hotter, and it's not just because of the lack of AC. I'm torn between the shock of what I'm doing and the morbid curiosity that keeps me glued to the spot.

As he stretches to reach a screwdriver, the towel droops even further, and I get a full view of his cock. It's massive, hanging there like a thick snake waiting to pounce. I swallow hard, my own cock stiffening in my pants. This is wrong, I know, but I can't help the perverted thrill that runs through me as I watch him, oblivious to my peering eyes.

Mom's shower is still running, and the sound of water splashing against the tiles mixes with Salman's grunts and the occasional clank of his tools. The anticipation in the air is palpable, and I feel like I'm about to witness something that will change the course of our lives. The question is, will it be for the better or worse?

But for now, I'm just a silent voyeur, watching as a man with a cock larger than any I've ever seen in person tinkers with the AC unit in my mom's room, unaware of the chaos his presence might bring.

The shower finally switched off, and the sound of the door opening made my heart pound. Mom emerged from the bathroom, her hair tied up in a towel, her body still glistening with water. She looked around the room, her eyes widening when she spotted Salman standing on the table, her own towel barely hugging his waist. For a moment, she just stared, frozen in shock. Then she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Salman, equally surprised, stumbled over his own greeting, his hand shooting up to cover himself more. The tension in the room was thick, and I could feel it through the wall. Mom's eyes darted to the bathroom door, where she'd left her towel. 

Mom's eyes searched the room frantically, and she spotted the towel she'd left on the chair. She dashed over to it, wrapping it tightly around herself. Her face was a mix of shock and embarrassment. She looked like she was about to blow a fuse. "Shan!" she yelled out, her voice echoing through the house. "What's going on here?"

[Mooni26]

Salman, who had been caught red-handed, or rather, red-faced, stuttered, "I-I'm just fixing the AC, madam. Your son said it's okay."

Mom's expression grew stormier by the second. "What do you mean he said it's okay? Did he tell you to take your shirt off and strut around here like a peacock?"

Salman looked genuinely confused. "He just said I could borrow a shirt. I didn't think-"

"Don't you dare come near me!" Mom snapped, her eyes blazing. She grabbed a spare towel and wrapped it around herself even tighter. "Turn around, I need to get dressed!"

Mom stomped over to the chair where her towel lay discarded, her eyes flickering from Salman's face to his makeshift loincloth. The moment she reached for the towel, her gaze fell upon the unmistakable sight of his engorged member. She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as her eyes widened in shock. This wasn't just any dick; this was a monstrous, throbbing beast that seemed to defy gravity as it swung between his legs. Her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, and she took an involuntary step back, the towel slipping slightly and exposing more of her ample breasts and thigh. It was clear from her expression that she had never seen anything quite like it before, and the sheer size of it seemed to paralyze her with a mix of fear and awe. Her eyes darted up to meet Salman's, and the look of mortification on her face was almost comical. She looked like she'd just walked in on a live porn shoot in her own home. But amidst the embarrassment, there was something else too - a spark of curiosity, as if she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing. She knew she should be disgusted, but instead, she felt a strange, inexplicable thrill. She'd always heard of men with "big" dicks, but she'd never imagined it could be this... overwhelming.

Salman, realizing the gravity of the situation, quickly turned around, his face a mask of embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry, madam," he stammered. "It was an accident."

Mom didn't respond, still processing the image burned into her retinas. She'd seen her fair share of cocks in her time - my dad's, of course, and a few of her ex-boyfriends' - but none had ever been so... impressive. Her heart was racing, and she could feel a warmth spreading through her body that had nothing to do with the heat outside. She knew she should be outraged, but the sight of him, standing there in her towel with his tool kit at his side, was doing things to her she hadn't felt in years.

With trembling hands, she snatched the towel from the chair and wrapped it around herself more securely. She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. "Just... just get dressed and finish fixing the AC," she managed to say, her voice shaking. "And don't let this happen again."

Salman fumbled with the towel, trying to reposition it to cover himself more effectively. His hands were shaking slightly, and it was clear that the encounter had affected him too. As he turned back to the AC unit, Mom couldn't help but steal another glance at his now slightly covered crotch. To her surprise, she noticed that the towel was tenting outwards, as if something was pushing against it. She felt a sudden, inappropriate urge to reach out and touch it, to confirm that what she'd seen was real. But she didn't. Instead, she moved to the bed, her own towel slipping slightly as she sat down, exposing more of her thigh. She pretended to be engrossed in her phone, but in reality, she was watching Salman's every move. He worked with a newfound urgency, his eyes avoiding hers as he focused on his task. It was then that she saw it - the tip of his cock peeking out from the towel, thick and veiny, as if it had a life of its own. It was as if the fabric was straining to contain the beast beneath it. Mom swallowed hard, her own arousal building as she stared at the sneaky glimpse of his manhood. She knew she should be appalled, but instead, she was... intrigued. Her mind raced with thoughts she'd never entertained before, and she felt a strange, almost irresistible pull towards him. She told herself she was just curious, that it was the shock of seeing something so unexpected, but deep down, she knew it was more than that. It was as if Salman had brought a forbidden fruit into her house, and she couldn't help but want to take a bite.

Mom hurriedly got off the bed, trying to ignore the sudden thrumming in her chest as she approached Salman. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, and she had to resist the urge to reach out and touch him. He pointed at the tool he needed, and she bent over to grab it, her towel riding up and exposing the cheeks of her ass. She felt his eyes on her, and it only served to make her more self-conscious. As she handed him the tool, their fingers brushed, and she felt an electric charge shoot through her. She stepped back, her knees feeling wobbly, and tried to act as if nothing had happened. But the look on Salman's face told her that he had felt it too. His eyes lingered on her body, and she could see the hunger in them. She knew that she should be outraged, but instead, she felt... excited. The situation was spiraling out of control, and she was powerless to stop it. She took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure, but it was too late. The damage had been done, and she was acutely aware of his cock, which was now at eye level and begging for her attention.

As the house plunged into darkness, my heart skipped a beat. I had done it. The perfect opportunity had presented itself, and I couldn't resist the urge to stir the pot. I watched with bated breath as Mom's eyes went wide with shock, and she stumbled backwards. Her hand shot out to steady herself, and in a twist of fate, her trembling fingers grazed the head of Salman's cock. She gasped, her eyes going wide as she realized what had just happened. Salman, equally panicked, lost his balance and toppled backwards onto the bed, the towel finally giving way to reveal his full, erect length. Mom's knees buckled, and she tumbled towards him, the towel she was clutching around herself slipping away to reveal her naked body. Her breasts bounced as she fell, and I couldn't help but feel a strange mix of excitement and fear as their bodies collided. The room was silent except for the sound of their heavy breathing and the occasional clank of Salman's tools falling to the floor. In that moment, I knew that the line had been crossed, and there was no going back.

[Givemeextra]

. . . . . . .  . . . . . .
 
Salman, equally panicked, lost his balance and toppled backwards onto the bed, the towel finally giving way to reveal his full, erect length. Mom's knees buckled, and she tumbled towards him, the towel she was clutching around herself slipping away to reveal her naked body. Her breasts bounced as she fell, and I couldn't help but feel a strange mix of excitement and fear as their bodies collided. The room was silent except for the sound of their heavy breathing and the occasional clank of Salman's tools falling to the floor. In that moment, I knew that the line had been crossed, and there was no going back.

wow wow wow wow wow

[nadia]

Make sure this story contains hardcore ANAL SEX, or else it will be boring.

[Desmond Miles]

Make sure this story contains hardcore ANAL SEX, or else it will be boring.

Now you are the demanding one lol, bro.. But glad to see u here..

[Mooni26]

Their eyes locked, and the tension in the room was palpable. Salman's face was a mask of surprise and desire, his cock standing proud and fully exposed. Mom's cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide with a mix of horror and fascination. Time seemed to stand still as they stared at each other, both aware of the inevitable. Then, as if drawn by an unseen force, Mom leaned in, and their lips met in a clumsy, passionate kiss. It was unlike any kiss she had ever experienced before - a kiss filled with the raw, primal need that comes from knowing you're about to do something you shouldn't. Salman's hand found its way to the back of her neck, his fingers entangling in her wet hair as he deepened the kiss, exploring the softness of her mouth with his tongue. Mom's hands, shaking with nerves, began to roam over his chest, her fingers tracing the contours of his muscles.

The kiss grew more intense, their bodies pressing together on the bed, the towel that had once covered Salman's waist now a forgotten memory. Mom could feel the heat from his cock against her stomach, and she knew she had to taste it, had to know what it felt like. Her hand tentatively made its way down to his cock, her fingers wrapping around the thick girth. She was surprised at how easily it filled her palm, and she began to stroke it, feeling the velvety skin move under her touch. Salman groaned into her mouth, his hips bucking slightly at the contact. He pulled away, panting, and looked at her with a question in his eyes. She nodded, her own desire overwhelming any shred of decency she had left. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of her naked body, the water from her shower still glistening on her skin, before guiding himself to her mouth. She opened her lips, and he slid in, filling her mouth with his thickness. She gagged a little at first, unused to such a size, but she took a deep breath and took more of him, her eyes watering as she tried to accommodate his length. Salman's hand was on the back of her head, guiding her movements, as she bobbed up and down, her cheeks hollowing with each suck. She could feel him getting harder with each stroke, and she knew he was close.

But before he could reach his peak, Mom pushed him back, her own desires taking over. She straddled him, her pussy wet with anticipation. Salman looked up at her with a mix of shock and lust, his cock standing tall and proud. She reached down, her hand trembling as she guided it to her entrance. She took a deep breath and, with one swift motion, impaled herself on him. She screamed out as he filled her completely, stretching her to the limits of what she thought was possible. The pain was intense, but it was quickly replaced by a feeling of fullness and pleasure she had never experienced before. She began to move, her hips rocking back and forth, her pussy tightening around his cock. Salman's hands found her hips, helping her set a rhythm that soon had them both panting and moaning. She threw her head back, her breasts bouncing with each thrust, the sensation of his cock inside her driving her wild.

They fucked with a ferocity that seemed to shake the very foundations of the house. Each thrust brought Mom closer to the edge, and she could feel Salman's cock swelling even more within her. The room was filled with the sounds of their passion - the slap of skin against skin, the wet sounds of her pussy taking him in, and their muffled cries of pleasure. It was as if they were in a world of their own, oblivious to anything but the moment. And when she finally came, her body shuddering and convulsing around his cock, she knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

They lay in the bed, the heat of their passion still palpable in the room, the smell of sex lingering in the air. The light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow over their sweat-slicked bodies, revealing every curve and contour as they panted for breath. Mom looked down at Salman, her eyes filled with a mix of guilt and insatiable desire. She knew she should be ashamed, but she couldn't tear herself away from the feeling of his cock still pulsing inside her. With a final, lingering kiss, she slid off him and stood up, her legs wobbly from the intense pleasure. She walked to the bathroom, the towel hanging loosely around her waist, and turned on the shower, letting the hot water cascade down onto her body. She stepped into the shower cubicle, the water hitting her skin with a hiss, and let out a sigh of relief as the heat washed over her.

Salman, unable to resist the open door, followed her in, his own need still not sated. The sight of Mom's naked body in the shower was too much for him to bear, and he stepped in behind her, his cock already hardening again. She looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and excitement. He reached for her, his hand caressing her waist, and she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her body craving more of what he had given her.

The shower was tight, and their bodies pressed against each other under the hot spray. His hands roamed her body, reacquainting themselves with the curves and valleys they had just explored. He cupped her breasts, squeezing them gently, and she gasped as his thumbs flicked her hardened nipples. She reached behind her, her hand finding his cock, which grew in her grasp. He stepped closer, his chest pressing against her back as he whispered in her ear, "You're so beautiful."

Mom felt a shiver run down her spine, and she knew she was lost to the moment. She bent forward slightly, her hand guiding his cock to her pussy, which was already begging for more. He entered her from behind, filling her up in one smooth stroke, and she moaned, her head falling back against his shoulder. The water sluiced over them, mingling with their cries of pleasure as they found a rhythm that matched the pounding of the water on the tiles. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through her body, and she could feel herself building to another orgasm.

Salman's hands moved to her hips, holding her in place as he drove into her, his own breathing growing ragged. The water washed away the evidence of their encounter, but the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of her was etched into her mind, a memory she knew she'd never forget. Her hand found the wall for support as she pushed back against him, meeting him stroke for stroke. The shower had become a steamy cocoon of passion, a place where their bodies were free to do as they wished without the constraints of the outside world.

Their movements grew more frenzied, the sound of the water drowning out their cries. Mom's pussy tightened around Salman's cock, and she knew she was close. He reached around, his thumb finding her clit, and began to rub it in slow, deliberate circles. She moaned louder, her body trembling as she approached the edge. And then, with a final, powerful thrust, she came, her muscles clenching around him as he followed her over the precipice, filling her with his warmth.

Salman stepped out of the shower, his eyes dark with passion as he looked at Mom. He didn't say a word as he scooped her up into his arms, carrying her to the bed as if she were a precious treasure. The coolness of the shower made her shiver, her wet skin sticking to his as he laid her down gently on the bed. She watched him, her chest heaving with anticipation as he toweled off, his muscles rippling with every movement. When he was done, he tossed the towel aside and climbed onto the bed, his cock still standing at attention despite their recent escapade. Mom couldn't believe what was happening, but she also couldn't find it in herself to resist. He positioned himself over her, and she felt the tip of his cock brush against her entrance, sending shivers of anticipation through her body. He slammed into her without warning, and she gasped at the sudden fullness, her nails digging into his back. He began to pound her with a ferocity she had never felt before, his hips moving with a primal rhythm that seemed to tap into some ancient, carnal instinct within her. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him on as he claimed her in a way that no one ever had. She could feel every inch of him, and it was as if they had become one being, moving in perfect harmony to the beat of their shared lust. The bed creaked under their weight, the headboard banging against the wall in time with their frenzied movements. Sweat dripped from their bodies, mingling with the water from their shower, creating a slick sheen that only added to the intensity of their encounter. Mom threw her head back, her moans echoing through the room, as Salman's thick cock plunged in and out of her with a relentless force. She could feel another orgasm building, and she knew it was going to be even more powerful than the last. She didn't know how much more she could take, but she also knew she didn't want it to end. Her eyes locked with his, and she saw the same need reflected there, the same desire that had taken them both by storm. They were lost in the moment, in the heat of their passion, and nothing else mattered but the feel of their bodies joined together, the sweet friction that was driving them both to the brink of ecstasy. And when she finally came, her whole body convulsing around him, she knew she had never felt more alive, more wanted, more... alive. Salman groaned, his own orgasm following hers, and he emptied himself inside her with a final, powerful thrust. They lay there, panting and trembling, their hearts racing as they tried to come to terms with what had just happened. But for now, all that mattered was the feeling of his cock still buried inside her, the warmth of his cum filling her, and the knowledge that she had given herself to this stranger in the most intimate way possible.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of passionate exertion, the AC technician Salman finished repairing the unit. As he packed up his tools, Mom couldn't help but feel a sense of regret and longing for the intense intimacy they had just shared. She walked over to him, her eyes downcast, trying to compose herself. "Thank you so much, Salman," she said, her voice shaky. "You've saved me from this unbearable heat."

Salman looked up at her, his eyes filled with a hunger that hadn't been satiated. He knew he had to leave, but he also knew that this moment might never come again. He stepped closer to her, closing the gap between them, and placed his hand on her cheek, gently tilting her face up to meet his gaze. "You're welcome, Nisha," he murmured, his voice low and gruff.

Before she could say another word, his lips were on hers, pressing firmly and hungrily. Mom's eyes fluttered closed as she melted into the kiss, her body responding instinctively to his touch. His tongue sought hers, exploring her mouth with the same fiery passion they had just shared in the bedroom. His other hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her tightly against him, the bulge in his pants a testament to his desire for more.

The kiss grew more intense, their tongues dancing together as if they were trying to convey every unspoken word and feeling. It was a kiss that spoke of lust and longing, of a connection that had been forged in the heat of the moment. They both knew that it was wrong, that they had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed. But in that brief instant, none of it mattered.

As they broke apart, both gasping for air, Salman whispered, "I'll never forget you, Nisha." With one final, lingering kiss, he released her and picked up his toolkit, heading for the door. She watched him go, her body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. As the door clicked shut behind him, she realized that she had just experienced something she never thought she would, something she never wanted to admit to herself that she needed. And she knew that she would never be the same again.

[thechotireader]

Nice narration! Excellant choice of words..

[Givemeextra]

Wonderful updates.

Narration was hot hot hot

Hope Mom continues her adventures.

[Mooni26]

Weeks later, the memory of Salman's visit had become a secret thrill that Mom occasionally indulged in, hidden behind the mundane facade of her daily routine. Life had resumed its normal pace, with the hum of the AC unit a constant, comforting reminder of their illicit encounter. Then one evening, as she was busy in the kitchen, Dad called her from work, his voice serious. "Nisha," he said, "my boss is coming to India for personal reasons and he's asked if he can stay with us for a few days." Mom's heart skipped a beat, but she kept her cool. "Of course," she replied, trying to sound as casual as possible. "When is he arriving?"

"He'll be here tomorrow," Dad continued. "His flight lands at 8 PM. Make sure the house is clean and the guest room is ready."

Mom nodded, her mind racing. She knew that this could be a disaster waiting to happen, but she also knew that she couldn't refuse. "Okay, I'll get everything ready," she said, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

As she hung up the phone, she couldn't help but wonder if the universe had a twisted sense of humor, sending her husband's boss to stay with them so soon after her affair with the AC technician. She took a deep breath and steeled herself for the task ahead, pushing aside the naughty thoughts that threatened to bubble up. After all, she was a married woman, and she had a duty to uphold. But deep down, she knew that the scent of Salman's sweat and lust still lingered in the air of that room, a silent testament to the passion they had shared. And as she went about her preparations, she couldn't help but feel a strange anticipation, a secret hope that perhaps, just perhaps, fate had other plans for her.

Mom had chosen her attire with care, adorning herself in traditional red saree that clung to her curves in all the right places. The gold mangalsutra around her neck sparkled with the light of the setting sun, a symbol of her marital status that she couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for. Her bangles jingled with each movement of her arms as she worked in the kitchen, preparing a feast for Dad's boss, Marcus, who was arriving any minute. She had applied kajal to her eyes, which made them appear more alluring than ever, and her ears were adorned with chunky gold earrings that swayed with every turn of her head. But it was the nose pin that drew the most attention - a small, delicate diamond stud that glinted every time she tilted her head. It was a simple accessory, but it added a touch of elegance to her otherwise plain look. The anticipation of meeting Marcus filled her with a mix of dread and excitement, as she couldn't help but think of the stories she had heard about him from Dad - the wealthy, charismatic divorcee from Texas who had made a fortune in the tax business.

As the taxi pulled into the driveway, Mom and I watched in disbelief as the door opened, and out stepped Marcus. He was nothing like the 60-year-old father figure we had pictured in our heads based on Dad's descriptions. Instead, a well-built man with the vitality of someone in his early forties emerged, standing tall at six feet. His athletic physique was a stark contrast to Dad's slightly rounded frame, and his dark hair had only a touch of silver at the temples, giving him a distinguished, yet youthful appeal. His piercing blue eyes scanned the house, taking everything in, and a smile played on his lips as he approached us, his gaze lingering on Mom for just a second longer than necessary. It was as if he could sense the secret that lay hidden within these walls, the scent of Salman's desire still clinging to her like an invisible perfume.

Marcus stepped up to us, extending his hand first to me. His grip was firm, his eyes meeting mine with a kindness that seemed to hold a hint of curiosity. Then, he turned to Mom, his hand reaching for hers, but before it could connect, she stepped back slightly, a blush creeping up her neck. "Mrs. Ahuja," he said warmly, using the formal term of address that made Mom's cheeks burn even brighter. She tentatively offered her hand, and he took it, bringing it to his lips for a chaste kiss that sent a shiver down her spine. She hadn't been kissed by a man other than Dad in over two decades, and the sudden intimacy of the gesture made her feel both thrilled and guilty. Marcus must have noticed her discomfort because he quickly released her hand and stepped back, his smile never wavering. "I'm so sorry," he said, "I've been living in the States for so long, I sometimes forget how things are done here." He stepped closer, leaning in to give her a more familiar hug. She stiffened at first, but then, as his arms wrapped around her, she melted into the embrace, her body pressing against his firm chest. She couldn't help but feel the warmth of his body through her sodden sari, and for a moment, she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to be in the arms of a man who was not her husband. When they pulled apart, Mom's eyes were downcast, her heart racing. She had never felt so alive, so wanted, and she knew that she was playing with fire. But she also knew that she had no idea how to extinguish the flame that had been ignited within her.

Marcus nodded his head in gratitude and followed me upstairs to the guest room. His broad shoulders filled the space of the narrow hallway, making me feel small and insignificant in comparison. As I showed him to the room, I couldn't help but notice the way his eyes kept flickering towards Mom, who was busy in the kitchen, her curves swaying with every movement. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head, calculating his next move. He was a predator, and she was the unsuspecting prey. After he had settled in and gone to freshen up, I retreated to my own room, my mind racing with the potential scenarios that could unfold. I felt a strange mix of excitement and fear, like a silent observer to a drama that was about to unfold in the most unexpected way.

That evening, after Marcus had had a short nap to recover from his long journey, he joined us for dinner. Despite the tumult of emotions raging within me, I was surprised to see that Mom had put on a brave face and was behaving as if nothing had changed. She was dressed modestly in a simple cotton sari, her hair tied back in a neat bun, and she had applied minimal makeup. Her conversation with Marcus was polite and friendly, with no hint of the carnality that had marked her encounter with Salman. She served him with a grace that was both poised and unassuming, asking about his travels and his business, all the while keeping her own thoughts and desires tightly leashed. Marcus, for his part, was charming and attentive, regaling us with tales of his life in Texas and his adventures around the world. His blue eyes would occasionally flicker towards Mom, and I could see the hunger in them, the same hunger that had driven him to take what he wanted from her when they were alone together. But for now, he was playing the perfect guest, a mask of propriety hiding the beast that lurked beneath. The air was thick with tension, each bite of food seeming to weigh a ton as we ate in silence, the clinking of cutlery the only sound breaking the unspoken understanding between them. And as the night grew darker outside, the shadows of their secret grew longer, stretching through the house like invisible tendrils of desire, hinting at the passionate dance that awaited them once the rest of the world had gone to sleep.

The next morning, as I was getting ready for college, the sound of the doorbell pierced the quiet of the house. My heart skipped a beat as I wondered if it was Salman again, and sure enough, when I opened the door, there he was, his moustache twitching as he sweated in the already stifling heat. "Is your mom home?" he asked, his eyes scanning the hallway as if looking for a sign of her. I nodded and called out for her, trying to keep my voice steady.

Mom appeared, her expression unreadable as she approached him. She had donned a simple cotton sari, the fabric clinging to her damp skin as she walked over. "Ah, Salman," she said, her voice cool. "You're here to collect your payment, I presume?"

He nodded, his eyes never leaving her face. "Yes, madam."

Mom reached into her purse and pulled out a wad of cash, handing it to him without a second glance. "Here," she said, her tone brisk. "Thank you for fixing the AC."

But instead of taking the money, Salman's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her closer to him. "Nisha," he whispered, his breath hot against her neck. "I've been thinking about you, about what we did. It wasn't a mistake for me."

To my shock, she didn't melt into his arms. Instead, she reared back and slapped him so hard that the sound echoed through the hallway. "How dare you!" she spat. "That was a mistake, and it will never happen again."

He stepped back, looking stunned and slightly hurt. "But..." he started to protest, but she cut him off.

"Take your money and go," she said, her voice low and firm. "And don't you ever come back here again."

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving me gaping at the door. I couldn't believe she had the guts to stand up to him like that, and part of me felt a strange sense of pride. But there was also a part of me that felt disappointed, like I had been cheated out of the juicy drama I had been expecting.

As I watched him slink away, clutching his cheek, I realized that maybe Mom wasn't as clueless as I had always thought. Maybe she had more fire in her than anyone gave her credit for. And as the door closed behind him, I couldn't help but wonder what other secrets she was hiding beneath that calm, oblivious exterior.

Mom looked at me with a puzzled expression as I apologized, her hand coming up to gently stroke my hair. "It's okay, beta," she said, her voice filled with the warmth that had always made me feel safe. "You're a good son to worry about me."

I nodded, trying to hide the guilt that was eating away at me. "I just don't want you to get hurt," I murmured, not meeting her eyes.

"I'm a big girl," she said, her voice a little shaky. "I can handle myself."

We sat down for breakfast together, the tension between us palpable. She talked about the usual mundane things - the neighbors, the latest Bollywood gossip, the never-ending pile of laundry. But all I could think about was the way Salman had looked at her, the way he had talked to her, and the way she had slapped him. It was like a soap opera playing out in our own home, and I was torn between feeling like a betrayer and a protector.

As I finished my meal, she gave me a small smile. "Now go on," she said, her eyes misting over. "You'll be late for college."

I nodded, getting up from the table. "I'll be back soon," I said, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.

Mom nodded, her eyes never leaving mine. "Take care, Shan," she said softly.