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Mooni26 · 15-01-2025, 03:07 PM

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 · 15-01-2025, 04:49 PM

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 · 15-01-2025, 05:40 PM

(15-01-2025, 04:49 PM)Mooni26 Wrote: . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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
clps

nadia · 15-01-2025, 08:59 PM

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

Desmond Miles · 16-01-2025, 12:38 AM

(15-01-2025, 08:59 PM)nadia Wrote: 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.. Heart

Mooni26 · 16-01-2025, 02:27 AM

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 · 16-01-2025, 03:59 AM

Nice narration! Excellant choice of words..

Givemeextra · 16-01-2025, 07:53 AM

Wonderful updates.

Narration was hot hot hot

Hope Mom continues her adventures.

Mooni26 · 16-01-2025, 10:53 AM

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.

Givemeextra · 16-01-2025, 11:35 AM

(16-01-2025, 10:53 AM)Mooni26 Wrote: . . . . . .

He was a predator, and she was the unsuspecting prey.

. . . . . .

I think - Mother is Predator for sure -> searching for able bodies that can quench her bodily lustful thurst
yourock

Mooni26 · 17-01-2025, 08:32 AM

I left for college with a heavy heart, feeling guilty for being the unintentional matchmaker in Mom's tryst with Salman. As I walked the familiar path, my thoughts swirled with the events of the past few days. I was torn between the need to protect her innocence and the morbid curiosity that had led me to orchestrate the situation. By the time I reached college, the heat had dried the sweat on my body, but not the guilt that clung to my conscience.

When I returned home that evening, the house felt strangely empty without Marcus's presence. Mom met me at the door, her eyes searching mine for any sign of what had transpired. She informed me that Marcus had left for some personal matter and wouldn't be back until the next day. The tension in the air was thick, and she seemed on edge, as if she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. We spent the evening in forced normalcy, watching TV and pretending that our lives hadn't been forever changed by the secrets we now shared. But I couldn't help but wonder what would happen when Marcus returned. Would the attraction between them be as palpable as it had been the night before? And if so, would she be able to resist the allure of a man who was everything Dad wasn't?

As we sat down for dinner, the silence was deafening, each bite of food tasting like ashes in my mouth. I could feel Mom's eyes on me, but I couldn't bring myself to look at her. We ate in silence, the weight of our secret pressing down on us like an invisible force. I knew I had to make things right, to somehow find a way to undo the mess I had created. But the question was, how?

The next day, I resolved to keep my distance from Marcus and to never again put Mom in a position where she could be taken advantage of. I would be the son she deserved, the one who protected her rather than the one who unwittingly led her into temptation. And as we went about our day, with Marcus still out of the house, I watched her closely, looking for any signs of regret or longing. But all I saw was a woman who had made a decision, one that she seemed determined to stand by, no matter the cost.

Mom's resolve was unshakeable, and she went about her day as if nothing had happened. She cooked, she cleaned, she talked to the neighbors, all with a smile on her face that didn't quite reach her eyes. And as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the room, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of admiration for her strength. Despite her lack of education, she had managed to navigate a situation that would have overwhelmed a woman with more experience.

As the night grew deeper and the dinner table flickered, Marcus leaned back in his chair, his gaze lingering on Mom's face. He cleared his throat, the atmosphere in the room shifting as he spoke. "I didn't just come to India for business, Nisha," he began, his voice earnest. "My daughter Alice, she's 28, you know. She's decided to get married to an Indian boy named Sharan." His eyes searched hers, looking for a reaction, but she remained composed. "The wedding is in two days at a resort in Goa. I've kept it a secret from everyone, even my employees. He paused, a hopeful smile playing on his lips. "I'd like to invite you both to come. It would mean a great deal to Alice and me."

Mom's eyes widened in surprise, and I could see the excitement bubbling up in her. "A wedding?" she echoed, her voice a little too high. "How wonderful!"

I nodded along, trying to hide the turmoil inside me. Goa? A resort? This was going to be more than just a simple dinner. This was a whole new chapter in our lives, and I had no idea how it would unfold. But as I looked at Mom's hopeful expression, I knew that we couldn't refuse. And so, without another word, she accepted the invitation, her voice filled with the kind of excitement that only comes from the promise of something new and exciting.

And with that, the stage was set for an adventure that would take us far from the confines of our little home in Bangalore and thrust us into a world of secrets, passion, and the kind of temptation that could either destroy us or set us free.

As we arrived at the luxurious resort in Goa on Friday night, the vibrant atmosphere was a stark contrast to the quiet streets of Bangalore. The sound of waves crashing against the shore and the distant laughter of partygoers filled the air, setting the stage for an unforgettable weekend. Mom's eyes widened as she took in the sight of scantily-clad foreigners, their bare skin gleaming under the soft lights, displaying more than she was used to seeing in our conservative neighborhood. The shock of the unfamiliar was clear on her face, but she managed to keep her composure, smoothing down her own sari and adjusting her pallu with a nervous smile. Marcus, on the other hand, was positively beaming, his eyes lighting up at the thought of the fun that awaited us. As we checked into our suite, the anticipation grew palpable, and I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of excitement mingled with dread. Little did I know, this weekend would be one that would not only push the boundaries of our mother-son relationship but also reveal sides of Mom I never knew existed.

The next day, we woke up early to the sound of waves crashing outside our suite's windows. Marcus had booked two separate rooms for us - one for me and Mom, and another for him. The resort was a stunning maze of white marble and lush greenery, and as we walked towards the pool area, I couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed by the opulence surrounding us. The moment we reached the poolside, the scene unfolded like a glossy magazine spread. Alice, Marcus's daughter, emerged from the sparkling water, her brunette hair cascading down her back like a waterfall. She looked like a younger version of Ana de Armas, with the same fiery beauty and infectious smile. She was wearing a simple white bikini that accentuated her curves in all the right places, leaving little to the imagination. Marcus beamed with pride as he introduced her to Mom and me, and she greeted us warmly, her eyes lighting up as she took in the sight of the two of us.

But it was Susan, Marcus's ex-wife, who really stole the show. She strutted out of the pool like a seasoned runway model, her voluptuous figure a stark contrast to the svelte bodies of the young women lounging nearby. Her skin was tanned and flawless, her hips curving in a way that made every man's head turn. She had the kind of beauty that could make you forget your own name, with large, doe-like eyes and pouty lips that begged to be kissed. Her bikini was a daring number that left almost nothing to the imagination - a bright red that highlighted her ample bosom and a tiny bottom that barely contained her ass. She had the kind of body that screamed 'desire', and the way she moved, it was clear she knew it. Her stomach was flat, her legs long and toned, and her breasts - oh, those breasts - they were like two perfectly round globes that seemed to defy gravity. The sight of her was like a punch to the gut, and I couldn't help but feel a mix of admiration and embarrassment for my mom, who was standing right beside me, looking slightly overwhelmed.

As Susan approached us, water droplets clinging to her skin, it was as if the entire world had stopped to watch. Marcus cleared his throat, a hint of awkwardness in his voice as he introduced us. "This is my ex-wife, Susan," he said, his eyes flicking briefly towards Mom before returning to Susan's face. "And these are my good friends from Bangalore, Nisha and Shan."

Susan's gaze raked over Mom, a sneer playing on her lips as she took in the sight of the simple yet elegant sari that clung to Mom's figure. "Marcus," she purred, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "I see you've lost your taste in women. A cheap local replacement for your exotic tastes, perhaps?"

Mom's eyes narrowed, and I could see the hurt in them, but she remained silent. Marcus's face turned red, his hand tightening around his beer bottle. "Susan," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, "that's no way to talk about our host."

Susan just laughed, a sound that grated on my nerves. "Oh, come on, Marcus," she said, her eyes glinting with malice. "You can't tell me you prefer this... this," she waved a hand dismissively at Mom, "to what you had with me?"

I felt a surge of anger, but Mom's hand on my arm held me back. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Let's just enjoy the wedding."

And so, we played the charade, smiling and nodding as Susan threw barbs wrapped in sweet-sounding words. But the tension between them was as thick as the humid Goan air, and I couldn't help but feel a twisted kind of excitement. It was like watching a cat and a mouse, and I couldn't decide if Mom was the cat or the mouse. But one thing was clear: this weekend was going to be anything but simple.

That evening, the resort buzzed with the energy of an organized event, drawing a diverse crowd of mostly Europeans and Americans. The vibe was electric, filled with laughter and music that spilled out from the open-air venue. Alice's bachelor party was in full swing, and the sight of her with her friends, all dressed in skimpy outfits, was like a peek into a glossy magazine spread. They were the epitome of carefree hedonism, their laughter echoing through the night as they danced and flirted with the handsome, tuxedo-clad groomsmen.

Mom, Marcus, and I approached the festivities with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Mom had chosen to wear a modest yet elegant saree, the vibrant colors a stark contrast to Susan's barely-there party wear that showcased her toned figure. As we made our way through the crowd, Susan's drunken laughter grew louder, her eyes locking onto Mom with a predatory gleam. Staggering towards us, she slurred, "Look at you, Nisha," her voice dripping with spite. "Still playing dress-up, trying to fit in with the big leagues."

Mom's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but she held her ground, her hand tightening around the pallu of her saree. Marcus stepped in, his jaw clenched. "Susan, that's enough," he warned, his tone firm.

Susan's eyes narrowed, and she swayed precariously on her heels. "Or what, Marcus?" she taunted. "You going to replace me with this?" She gestured at Mom, who stared back with a mix of anger and resilience.

Mooni26 · 19-01-2025, 09:15 PM

I will post on your responses. Please do let me know if you think i should continue this.

Domtorinoo · 19-01-2025, 09:42 PM

(19-01-2025, 09:15 PM)Mooni26 Wrote: I will post on your responses. Please do let me know if you think i should continue this.

Yes please. Been waiting till you post the next update. I see you have given daily updates. Wish you could do that tonight. Thanks.

srider69 · 19-01-2025, 09:47 PM

Definitely wonderful story. Please proceed further. Also, bring more local interactions after bringing a quick conclusion to the non local episode

Kabib · 19-01-2025, 10:55 PM

(19-01-2025, 09:15 PM)Mooni26 Wrote: I will post on your responses. Please do let me know if you think i should continue this.

First and second episode were excellent, latest episode felt a bit un realistic, would be exciting if there's going to be a gangbang scene to and pls let the son be cuckold and don't turn this in to in c est

Mooni26 · 20-01-2025, 12:56 AM

The situation grew tenser as Susan, fueled by a toxic blend of jealousy and alcohol, decided to escalate matters. She dramatically peeled off her dress, revealing a skimpy bikini that barely contained her surgically enhanced assets, and with a flourish, she leaped into the pool. The crowd's attention was now fully on her, leaving Mom standing there, feeling more like an outsider than ever before. Marcus's anger was palpable, his eyes flashing with a mix of humiliation and rage. Meanwhile, Susan's antics had struck a nerve with Mom, making her feel like the 'dumb village woman' Susan had implied she was. In a moment of rebellion and fueled by the shots of liquor Susan had bought for her, Mom handed me her debit card. "Shan," she slurred with a surprising firmness, "go to that beachwear store over there. Get me a swimsuit like Susan's, I want to show her I'm not some... some..." she struggled to find the right words, "someone she can push around."

With a mischievous smile, I took Mom's debit card and headed to the beachwear store, my mind racing with the thought of her in something so risque. I knew her usual size, but the devil on my shoulder whispered to pick something smaller. I found a bikini that looked like it could fit her, but with cups that would be tight and a thong that would barely cover her ass. I hoped she'd be too shy to wear it, but the thrill of knowing she had it was intoxicating.

When I returned from the beachwear store, the atmosphere around the pool had turned even more charged. The music was louder, the drinks were flowing, and the air was thick with the scent of chlorine and desire. As I approached, I spotted Mom sitting at the edge of the pool, a bottle of vodka in one hand and a glass in the other. She was laughing loudly with a group of men, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glinting with a wildness that I hadn't seen before. When she saw me with the dress bag, she waved me over, her movements slightly unsteady. "Look what Shan got for me!" she shouted over the din, holding up the bag with a sloppy grin. Before I could say anything, she grabbed the bag and stumbled towards the changing room, her hips swaying in a way that had heads turning. My heart racing, I couldn't help but feel a strange mix of excitement and fear. What had I unleashed?

Mom emerged from the changing room, and the sight of her took my breath away. The bikini I'd chosen hugged her body like a second skin, the fabric barely containing her ample breasts. The triangles of the top were so small that her nipples were only just covered, the dark circles peeking out from the side. Her midriff was exposed, showcasing the softness of her stomach and the delicate line of her navel piercing. The bottoms, a scandalously thin thong, had wedged itself into her ass crack, the material so flimsy it was practically non-existent. She had removed her mangalsutra, the symbol of her marriage, leaving a faint tan line around her neck that stood out against her now bare skin. The silver nose stud she had never taken out glinted in the dim lights of the poolside, adding an unexpected edge to her beauty. The contrast between the traditional and the provocative was jarring but oddly alluring. Her figure, usually hidden beneath her modest saris, was now on full display, and she wore it with a newfound confidence that made her look years younger. The crowd's eyes followed her as she walked, a mix of shock and admiration on their faces. Mom had transformed into a vision of a modern Indian beauty, a testament to the timeless allure of a woman who knew how to hold her own, even when the world threw its worst at her.

Marcus's eyes nearly popped out of his head as he took in the sight of Nisha in the bikini. She had never looked like this before - confident, sexy, and completely uninhibited. He couldn't believe that the woman he had always seen in traditional Indian garb was now flaunting her body in front of everyone. Susan's jaw dropped, her earlier smugness replaced by a look of utter shock. Mom strutted over to Marcus, her hips swaying with every step. She leaned in close, her breath warm on his ear, and whispered, "Let's give your ex a taste of her own medicine, shall we?" Her words were slurred but her intent was clear. Marcus, torn between anger and arousal, could only nod in agreement. The night was about to take an unexpected turn, and I had the front-row seat to the unfolding drama.

As Marcus took off his shirt, his muscular frame and the hint of a six-pack glistened in the pool's light, making the men around us take notice. He took Mom's hand and they both waded into the pool, the water reaching Mom's waist, causing her bikini top to cling to her breasts even more. The crowd of partygoers parted to make way for them, their eyes glued to Mom's voluptuous figure in the daring swimsuit. She looked like a goddess emerging from the sea, her curves rippling with the water's movement. Marcus's grip tightened around her hand, and I could see the hunger in his eyes as they both dove into the pool, sending waves crashing against the sides. Their laughter echoed through the night, and it was clear that the dynamic between them had shifted. The air was charged with a new kind of electricity, one that made my skin crawl with excitement and discomfort. As they played in the pool, their bodies brushing against each other, the tension grew thicker than the humid Goan air. The other men in the vicinity couldn't help but stare, their gazes lingering on Mom's exposed skin. Susan's eyes narrowed, her grip on her drink tightening as she watched her ex-husband with a woman she had so openly mocked just moments ago. The evening had turned into a silent battle of seduction and power, and it was my mom, Nisha, who had become the center of attention.

Marcus and Mom emerged from the pool, water droplets cascading down their bodies like a seductive dance. The crowd's attention was glued to them, especially Susan's, whose eyes were now filled with a burning green flame of envy. Without a care in the world, Mom stumbled slightly, still feeling the effects of the alcohol. Marcus, ever the gallant host, wrapped his arm around her waist to steady her. As they approached Susan, the tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Mom looked up at Marcus, her eyes glazed with desire, and before I knew what was happening, she leaned in and planted a wet, open-mouthed kiss on his chest, her tongue flicking out to taste the saltiness of his skin. Marcus's hand slid down to her ass, cupping it firmly and pulling her closer, his eyes locked on Susan's. Susan's cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and arousal as she watched the scene unfold.

Mom's hands roamed over Marcus's body, her fingers tracing the lines of his abs as if she owned them. She whispered something in his ear that made him chuckle, and then she leaned back, her eyes never leaving Susan's as she began to untie the knot of her bikini top. The fabric fell away, revealing her large, firm breasts that swayed with the motion. The men around us gasped, and Susan's jaw dropped even further. Marcus's hand moved up to cup one of Mom's breasts, his thumb brushing over her nipple, causing it to harden into a tight peak. He leaned in and took her earlobe between his teeth, gently tugging it as she giggled, lost in the moment.

The sight of Mom, my mother, acting so brazenly was both shocking and exhilarating. She had never been one to flaunt herself, but here she was, practically begging for attention. I could see Susan's fury mounting, and I felt a thrill of satisfaction knowing that she was getting a taste of her own medicine. This was a side of Mom I never knew existed, and it was a powerful aphrodisiac that had me glued to the spot, unable to look away. The night had turned into a sizzling cauldron of lust and spite, and I had no idea how this would end, but I knew one thing for sure: nothing would ever be the same again.

Just as Mom's top fell away, revealing her bare breasts to the gawking crowd, Alice's shriek pierced through the night. "What the hell is going on here?" She stormed over, her eyes wide with shock and anger. "You're both supposed to be setting an example! This is my bachelor party, and you're turning it into a soap opera!" Marcus and Susan froze, their hands hovering awkwardly over each other's bodies. The crowd's whispers grew to a murmur, unsure of how to react to the sudden outburst. Alice's cheeks were red with fury, her perfect hair now a mess from the humidity and the chaos. She looked from her mother to her stepfather, then back again. "I don't even... I can't believe this!" she spat out.

Marcus tried to speak, but Alice cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Not now," she hissed. "You two are ruining everything!" She turned to the hotel staff that had gathered around, her voice now shaky. "Someone, please take Nisha to her room. She's had too much to drink."

Mom, her eyes glazed and her body trembling, looked like she was about to faint. The hotel staff rushed over, wrapping a towel around her and guiding her away from the poolside. Alice called out to her, "Mom, are you okay?" but she was too out of it to respond coherently. As they disappeared into the resort's interior, Alice's expression softened slightly, but the anger didn't leave her eyes. She turned to Susan, who was still standing there in her soaked bikini, looking like she'd seen a ghost. "And you," Alice said, her voice dangerously low, "you should be ashamed of yourself. You're not welcome here anymore."

The crowd parted again as Alice stomped back to the party, leaving Susan and Marcus to deal with the mess they'd created. The music started up again, but the mood had shifted, the electricity of the moment dissipating into a thick cloud of tension. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for Mom, who had been caught up in a web of spite and desire she didn't fully understand. As the night grew later and the party wound down, I found myself wondering if she'd ever truly realize the consequences of her actions, or if she'd simply write it off as another one of her 'dumb' moments.

I approached Alice, feeling a mix of embarrassment and concern for my mom. "I'm so sorry about what happened, Alice," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Mom didn't mean to cause any trouble." Alice looked up at me, her eyes still glinting with anger but also a hint of understanding. She took a deep breath before speaking. "It's not your fault, Shan," she replied, her voice softer than before. "It's Susan. She's always been a troublemaker. I can't believe she'd do this at my bachelor party." She paused, glancing around the pool area where the last few partygoers were still lingering. "My future husband and his family are here," she confided, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I don't want them to think I'm... you know, like Susan." There was a desperation in her eyes that was almost heartbreaking. "But thanks for bringing this to my attention. I'll make sure she doesn't ruin anything else." With a nod, she turned away, leaving me to contemplate the mess that had unfolded. It was clear that Susan's actions had not only affected Mom but had the potential to tarnish Alice's reputation as well. I couldn't help but wonder if Susan had orchestrated the whole thing to spite Alice, or if she had truly lost control. Either way, the night had taken a turn that none of us had anticipated, and it was up to us to deal with the fallout.

As I searched for a quiet corner to gather my thoughts, I spotted Susan in the distance, her eyes red and swollen from crying, whispering frantically to Marcus. It seemed that finally, she had realized the gravity of her mistake. My mom, on the other hand, had become the unexpected victor of the evening's events, her naive yet fiery spirit capturing the attention and admiration of those around her. It was clear that Susan had underestimated Nisha's appeal and the power of her own jealousy. As I observed the scene from afar, I felt a strange sense of vindication. Despite her flaws and the ease with which she could be manipulated, my mom had unknowingly taught Susan a lesson in humility and the consequences of playing with fire. The night had ended in a whirlwind of emotions, leaving me to ponder the complexities of relationships and the lengths people would go to for love, lust, and spite. But for now, as the moon cast a silver glow over the serene Goan landscape, it was time to check on Mom and make sure she was okay, unsure of how she would navigate the aftermath of the evening's events.

As the party buzz grew dimmer and the resort settled into the quiet embrace of the Goan night, I made my way to my room, my thoughts swirling like the waves outside. The echoes of laughter and music were replaced by the distant sound of the ocean's lullaby. Despite the exhaustion tugging at my eyelids, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The scent of saltwater and the faint aroma of alcohol-laced sweat clung to the corridor, mingling with the heady scent of scandal. As I approached my door, the soft, rhythmic sounds of passion grew louder, seeping from the crack under Marcus's room. I paused for a moment, my heart thumping against my ribcage like a caged bird desperate to break free. The realization of what was happening behind that door sent a jolt through me, a strange cocktail of anger, disgust, and... something else. Something darker, more primal. But I was too drained to face it, too tired to do anything but turn the key to my own room. The moaning grew louder, a symphony of lust that seemed to taunt me, reminding me of the chaos I'd set in motion. With a heavy sigh, I pushed aside my thoughts and crawled into bed, letting the oblivion of sleep consume me, leaving Marcus and Mom to their illicit tryst.

Uvaaaa · 20-01-2025, 01:57 PM

Your story telling is awesome and soo good and please update as soon as possible keep rocking

Uvaaaa · 20-01-2025, 02:46 PM

Your story telling is awesome and soo good. Update as soon as possible keep rocking

Hotyyhard · 20-01-2025, 06:17 PM

please continue

Mooni26 · 23-01-2025, 03:01 AM

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of the ocean's gentle hum, the events of the previous night feeling like a hazy, feverish dream. My thoughts immediately rushed to Mom, and the disturbing sounds that had kept me awake for hours. With trembling hands, I slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the door, pressing my ear against the wood to listen for any signs of life from Marcus's room. To my shock, the woman who emerged from the room was not my mother, but Susan, looking utterly disheveled and satisfied. Her eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, she seemed surprised, but then a sly smile spread across her lips. Panic surged through my veins as I realized that my mom was nowhere to be seen, leaving me to wonder what on earth had transpired after I had retreated to the safety of my own room. My mind raced with a thousand questions and fears, but Susan simply waltzed by, leaving me with nothing but the echo of her sultry laughter and the scent of scandal that hung in the air like the sticky residue of a storm. I had to find Mom, and fast, to understand what had happened last night and to ensure she was okay, because it was clear that the situation had spun wildly out of control.

With a racing heart and a mind filled with dread, I approached Marcus, who was getting ready to leave for the wedding. I had to tell him about Mom. He listened intently as I recounted the events of the night, his expression a mask of shock and concern. Without a word, he grabbed my hand, and we rushed through the resort, our eyes scanning every shadowy corner. And there she was, sprawled out on a bed in a private suite, unconscious and utterly naked. The sight of her, so vulnerable and exposed, was almost too much to bear. We gathered her up, the softness of her skin against my trembling hands, and brought her back to our room. Marcus called for the doctor, whispering reassurances that she would be okay. As the doctor tended to her, I couldn't help but feel responsible, my curiosity and naive matchmaking having led us all down this treacherous path. With a heavy heart, Marcus excused himself to go to Alice's wedding, leaving me alone with Mom, who was still blissfully unaware of the scandal she had become the center of. As the church bells tolled in the distance, I sat by her side, stroking her forehead, promising myself that I would do everything in my power to keep her from falling into Susan's clutches again. But as the reality of the situation sank in, I couldn't shake the feeling that we had all been pawns in a game of lust and manipulation that was far from over. The wedding had to go on, but the shadow of Susan's spitefulness lingered, ready to cast its pall over the rest of our trip.

Mom stirred slowly, the sun's rays peeking through the curtains as she blinked her eyes open. A
dull ache pounded at her temples, the remnants of a headache she couldn't quite place. Her memory of the previous night was a tangled mess of half-formed images and foggy recollections. She vaguely remembered the party, the laughter, and the warmth of the alcohol flowing through her veins. But as she tried to piece together the events that had led her to this unfamiliar room, the details remained frustratingly out of reach. Her eyes fell on me, sitting by her side, my face a canvas of concern. "Shan?" she murmured, her voice a hoarse whisper. I nodded, my throat tight with unspoken words. "What... what happened?" she asked, her gaze searching mine for answers I wasn't ready to give. Swallowing hard, I took a deep breath and began to recount the sordid tale of Susan's spite and Marcus's betrayal, her eyes growing wider with every word. When I finished, she was silent, her hand moving to her mouth to stifle a gasp. Then, with a tremble, she sat up, her eyes filling with tears. "Oh, no," she breathed. "What have I done?" Her voice was barely audible, lost in the symphony of regret that now played in the room. She had no idea how much had unfolded, how her actions had set off a chain reaction of passion and spite. As she sank back into the pillows, the weight of her choices crushing her, I knew that we were both in for a tumultuous ride as the truth began to unravel and the consequences of her innocent curiosity made themselves known.

Mom's sobs grew louder as she clutched at the blanket, pulling it tight around her bare chest. "I can't believe it," she wept, her eyes brimming with regret. "What must they all think of me?" The sight of her, so vulnerable and ashamed, tore at my heart. I moved closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "It's okay, Mom," I whispered, trying to comfort her. "You didn't mean to do it, you were just caught up in the moment." I knew that the guilt she felt was a potent mix of cultural expectations and the fear of being judged by her own family. "You're still the same person," I assured her, "and we'll get through this together." Her trembling subsided slightly as she leaned into my embrace, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. "But what about Dad?" she asked, the fear in her voice stark. "What will he say?" The question hung in the air, heavy with the implications of what her actions might mean for her marriage. I didn't have an answer for her, not yet. But I knew we needed to clean up the mess Susan had created before it was too late. "Let's get you dressed," I said gently, "and we'll figure out what to do next." Together, we managed to get her into a fresh sari, the fabric a stark contrast to the scandal that clung to her like a second skin. As she wiped away her tears and took a deep, shuddering breath, I vowed to stand by her side, no matter what storms awaited us outside the confines of this room.

Mom's eyes widened in horror as I revealed that she had been found unconscious and naked in a private suite. She buried her face in her hands, her sobs growing more desperate as she clutched at her sari, trying to cover herself further. "My God," she wailed, "what must people think of me? How could this happen?" Her modesty, so deeply ingrained in her from a young age, was in tatters, and the realization of her vulnerability was almost too much to bear. I took a deep breath and tried to soothe her, explaining how Marcus had discovered her and brought her back to the room out of concern. Her shoulders slumped as she took in the gravity of the situation, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and fear. "What will your father say?" she whispered, the question hanging in the air like a dark cloud. I didn't have the heart to tell her that we'd have to deal with that when the time came, for now, we needed to focus on the present and the imminent threat of Susan's spitefulness spreading like wildfire through the resort. With a heavy heart, I held her tightly, promising to help her navigate the murky waters of the scandal that was about to engulf us all.

Mom went to have a shower to forget everything and emerged from the bathroom, her skin glowing from the warm shower, the scent of jasmine soap lingering in the air. With trembling hands, she reached for the silk sari that she had meticulously chosen earlier that day, a vibrant pink with intricate gold embroidery that shimmered in the soft light. She wrapped it around her body, the fabric whispering against her freshly scrubbed skin, the sensation sending a shiver down her spine. The blouse she donned was a size smaller, hugging her breasts snugly, pushing them up and out, the neckline dipping just enough to reveal the swell of her cleavage. Her waist looked impossibly smaller as she tightly wound the sari around, the fabric accentuating the curve of her hips. She tugged the pallu over her shoulder, the sheer material playing peekaboo with her midriff, revealing the sexy little belly button ring she had gotten on a whim years ago. Her eyes fell on the mirror, and she took a moment to appreciate the transformation. The kajal she applied was smudged just right, giving her eyes a sultry look that made them smolder. Her hair was left to dry naturally, the dark waves cascading down her back in soft, wet tendrils. As she stepped into the matching heels, she knew that today, she would turn heads, and not just because of the whispers that would inevitably follow her. Despite the tumult of emotions, she had to put on a brave face for the wedding. The sari, once a symbol of her traditional values, now served as a silent declaration of her newfound power, a seductive armor against the judgmental glares she was sure to face. With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and walked out of the room, ready to face the world, or at least the wedding party, with a fiery grace that she never knew she had within her.

As we approached the wedding venue, my heart hammered against my ribs like a caged animal desperate for escape. Marcus was waiting for us at the entrance, his eyes scanning the crowd before finally landing on us. He strode over, a warm smile spreading across his handsome face, and took Mom's hand, his grip firm and possessive. "You look absolutely stunning, Nisha," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through her very core. She blushed under his scrutiny, the weight of his gaze making her feel both exposed and desired. As he led her through the throngs of guests, his hand never left hers, his touch sending a jolt of electricity up her arm. The way he held her, with such ease and familiarity, made it seem as if they were a couple announcing their union rather than her accompanying her husband's boss to a wedding. The whispers began almost immediately, a murmur that grew into a crescendo as they made their way to their seats. The air was thick with gossip and speculation, the scent of scandal mingling with the aroma of the lavish feast that had been laid out. I trailed behind them, a silent witness to their charade, my mind racing with a mix of anger and fascination. It was as if I was watching a movie unfold before my eyes, except this was real, and the plot was far more twisted than any scriptwriter could have ever dreamed up. As they took their seats, Marcus leaned in close to Mom, whispering something in her ear that made her giggle, the sound tinkling like a bell. The sight of them together, so intimate and at ease, was a knife twisting in my gut, a stark reminder of the tumultuous night that had changed everything.

The wedding was a swirl of colors and emotions, the pulsating beats of the music seemingly in sync with the racing thoughts in my head. As the evening progressed, Mom and Marcus grew more at ease with each other, their laughter and touches becoming less furtive and more openly flirtatious. Each glance they exchanged was like a silent promise, a secret shared between them. And as the whispers grew louder, so did the realization that perhaps Mom was not the innocent victim in this tapestry of deceit, but an active participant, drawn to the danger and excitement that Marcus represented. The way she leaned into him, the way her eyes lit up when he spoke, the way she returned his touches with an eagerness that seemed almost...practiced. It was as if I was seeing a side of her that I never knew existed, a woman who craved the thrill of the forbidden, much like Marcus himself. And as the night unfolded, the line between reality and my imagination began to blur, leaving me questioning everything I thought I knew about my mother, and the complex web of desire that had been weaving itself around us all.

The whispers grew into a dull roar as we made our way through the wedding reception, each hushed conversation a reminder of the scandal that clung to Mom like a second skin. Marcus walked alongside her, his arm casually dbangd over her shoulder, and the way he whispered sweet nothings into her ear made it clear to everyone that something was going on. The guests' eyes followed them like hawks, their gazes a mix of shock, pity, and something else... something darker. The gossip had spread like wildfire, and the rumor had taken on a life of its own: Nisha Ahuja, the quiet, devoted wife of a middle-class man, was now Marcus's second wife, the mistress hiding in plain sight. The whispers grew bolder, the glances more pointed, and the air was charged with the electricity of a storm about to break. I watched from the sidelines, my heart in my throat, as they danced together, their bodies moving in a silent conversation that seemed to speak louder than any words could. Each step, each touch, each shared smile was a slap in the face to Dad, who was blissfully oblivious to the storm brewing around us. And as the night deepened, the whispers grew into murmurs, the murmurs into outright speculation, and the speculation into a chorus of condemnation. Mom, lost in the throes of her illicit romance, seemed oblivious to the judgment that washed over her like a tide, but I couldn't ignore the painful.

Later in the evening, Marcus took Mom's hand and led her to a group of people standing by the bar, his confidence unshaken despite the whispers that followed them like a shadow. Among them was Alice's husband, Sharan, a man I had only met a few times. His eyes widened in surprise as Marcus introduced them, his gaze lingering on Mom's flushed cheeks and the way her hand fit so naturally in the crook of Marcus's arm. "Sharan," Marcus said with a broad smile, "I'd like you to meet Nisha Ahuja, my... colleague's wife." The word "colleague" hung in the air, a silent admission of the intimate relationship that had been whispered about all evening. Sharan's eyes darted to Mom's midriff, where the sari revealed a hint of her belly button ring, before quickly averting his gaze. He looked uncomfortable, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the right words to say. "Nice to meet you," he finally managed, his voice tight. Mom offered a small smile, her eyes flickering with a hint of embarrassment, but she held her ground. The tension was palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the scandal that was unraveling before everyone's eyes. Yet, she remained poised, her head held high, as if daring the world to challenge the choice she had made. The handsome man standing next to her was a stark contrast to my own father, and it was clear that she was reveling in the attention, in the power she had over these men and the conversations they were now a part of. As they talked, I watched from afar, my emotions a tangled web of anger, confusion, and something else... something that felt dangerously close to envy.

As the evening progressed and the whispers grew into a crescendo, Sharan's nervousness was palpable whenever he glanced at Mom. His furtive looks and shifty demeanor suggested that he was all too aware of what had transpired the night before. His friends, too, cast furtive glances in her direction, their shock and confusion clear as day. Yet, Mom remained the epitome of poise and grace, her lack of memory serving as an impenetrable shield. She sipped her drink, engaged in polite small talk, seemingly unbothered by the scandal that surrounded her. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of anger at their silent judgement, but also a strange sense of satisfaction knowing that they were all in on the secret that she had no recollection of. As the night grew later and the music grew louder, the tension between Mom and Sharan was a live wire ready to snap at any moment. Meanwhile, I found myself torn between protecting her from their knowing looks and a morbid curiosity about what had really happened in that private suite. The wedding, once a joyous occasion, had turned into a minefield of unspoken accusations and hidden liaisons, and the air was charged with the anticipation of an explosive revelation that could shatter our lives forever.

As we returned to our suite, the weight of the evening's events clung to us like a heavy cloak. Mom, now in a diaphanous nightgown that clung to her curves, wished Marcus goodnight with a forced smile. His eyes lingered on her, a smoldering ember of desire that seemed to burn through the fabric of his own casual attire. He leaned in, his breath warm against her cheek, and whispered, "Goodnight, Nisha," his voice thick with unspoken intent. She swallowed hard, the room suddenly feeling much smaller, and nodded before retreating into the safety of her bedroom. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving me and Marcus in the living area. His gaze followed her, a hungry look that made me want to scream at him to leave, to never come back. But instead, I remained silent, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. He turned to me, his smile fading to a serious expression. "Your mother is quite the woman, isn't she?" he said, his voice low and contemplative. "I can see why you're so protective of her." His words hung in the air like a challenge, daring me to speak up, to confess what I had seen. But all I could do was nod, the reality of the situation crashing down upon me like a tidal wave. The line between my mother's private life and the world outside had been blurred beyond recognition, and I was left to navigate the treacherous waters alone, my heart pounding in my chest like a drum warning of the impending storm.

That night, I fell into sleep with a heavy heart, my mind reeling from the tumultuous events of the day. The whispers of scandal and the electricity of Marcus's presence had left me drained, the weight of our shared secret a boulder on my chest. Despite the air-conditioned chill of the room, I was hot and restless, the images of Mom and Marcus together playing like a movie reel in my mind. Each breath I took was filled with the scent of their forbidden encounter, a scent that seemed to cling to everything, mocking my innocence. The AC's hum was a lullaby, a constant reminder of the passionate moments that had unfolded within these walls. As I drifted off to sleep, the lines between reality and imagination grew blurred, and I couldn't help but wonder what the next day would bring, and how our lives would ever be the same again.

I woke up in the middle of the night, the air in the room feeling eerily still despite the AC's persistent hum. The weight of the silence pressed down on me like a heavy blanket, and I felt an inexplicable sense of unease that had me sitting bolt upright in bed. I glanced over to where Mom should have been, but the space beside me was empty, the bedcovers rumpled but cool to the touch. My heart began to race, the whispers from the wedding echoing in my ears. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my feet touching the cold floor tiles, and tiptoed to the door.

My heart thudded against my ribs as I inched the door open, the dim light from the hallway spilling into the room. What I saw before me was a scene so jarring, it felt like a punch to the gut. There, on the sprawling king-sized bed, lay Mom and Marcus, their naked bodies entangled in a tapestry of passionate abandon. Mom's sari was discarded on the floor, a pool of red silk and gold, a stark contrast to the stark white sheets that now bore the indelible marks of their union. Marcus's strong arms were wrapped around her, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of deep, satisfied sleep. Mom, too, was lost to the world, her face flushed and peaceful, a stark contrast to the tension she had worn earlier in the evening. The sight of them together, so raw and exposed, was a visual representation of the scandal that had been whispered about all night. The room was thick with the musk of their lovemaking, an intoxicating scent that seemed to cling to every surface. I stared, frozen, as the reality of the situation sank in like a knife through butter. This wasn't just a fleeting attraction or a drunken mistake; this was a full-blown affair, and I had been the unwilling keeper of their darkest secret. With a trembling hand, I closed the door, the click of the lock echoing in the silence like the final nail in the coffin of my innocence.

The next day dawned with a heaviness that seemed to cling to the very air of the house. The silence was deafening as Mom moved about, her movements stiff and forced, as if she was carrying an invisible burden. Marcus's departure to the airport was marked by a tension that could have been cut with a knife. His promise to Dad that he would never reveal what had happened at the Goa resort was a dark cloud hanging over us, a secret pact that bound Mom and me in a web of deceit. As his cab disappeared into the distance, we both breathed a sigh of relief, the weight of his presence lifting slightly. But the scent of their passion lingered in the guest room, a silent testament to the tumultuous night that had left us forever changed.

End of part 2

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