Bihari mother's MILF-ware update: A cybernetic saga set in Bengaluru

[Mohit.Kumar]

This is a work of fiction. All the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this story are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are over 18 years of age.

Plot Summary: Madhu, a middle aged, single mother from a village in Bihar, moves to Bengaluru with her son Aman, a young IT engineer, seeking a new life and companionship. As Aman's attraction to older women, particularly his mother, grows, he struggles to maintain the boundaries of their relationship while navigating the modern, fast-paced city. Madhu, too, finds herself experiencing unexpected desires and a newfound sense of liberation amidst the urban chaos. Their journey is a complex tapestry of love, loneliness, and the taboo desires that threaten to unravel their bond.

Characters:

Madhu: A plump, plain-looking 43-year-old woman with a warm heart and a resilient spirit. She's been through the trials of a tough marriage and has raised her son alone. Despite her circumstances, she maintains a sense of dignity and grace.

Aman: A 25-year-old IT engineer with a quiet confidence and a strong sense of responsibility. His attraction to older women leads him down a path he never expected to take, especially when it involves his own mother.

Nita: A 35-year-old, flirtatious neighbor who becomes a confidant and temptation for Aman.

[Mohit.Kumar]

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[Mohit.Kumar]

"Ma, what's the matter?" Aman asked, his eyes scanning the room for signs of trouble as he stepped inside the small, dimly lit house in their remote village. Madhu, his mother, sat in the corner, her shoulders slumped and her face hidden behind the edge of her worn sari.

 

Madhu looked up, her eyes red and puffy from crying. "It's nothing, beta," she lied, trying to force a smile that never quite reached her eyes. "Just a bit of the heat, that's all."

 

He knelt beside her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Ma, I can see it's more than that. Tell me," he urged, his voice filled with genuine concern.

 

"It's just this village, Aman," she sighed heavily. "Every day is the same. Your father's gone, and there's no one to talk to, nothing to do. The women here, they all have their own families to worry about. And the men..." she trailed off, her voice cracking. "They're not like your father was. I miss the city life, I miss the noise, the hustle."

 

The walls of the house, once vibrant with the laughter of a young family, now held only the echoes of Madhu's solitary existence. Aman felt a pang of guilt in his chest; he had been too busy with his life in Bengaluru to notice his mother's pain.

 

Her words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of loneliness. Aman knew he had to do something to change her life. "Ma, come with me to Bengaluru," he suggested tentatively. "You can stay with me in my flat. I'll take care of you."

 

Madhu's eyes widened in surprise. "What about your job, your friends?"

 

"They're all there for me, Ma," Aman said gently. "But you're my priority. I want you to be happy and not waste away here in misery." Madhu's gaze searched his, looking for any hint of doubt or reluctance. Finding none, she nodded slowly, a spark of hope flickering in her eyes.

 

The preparations for the move began immediately. Aman's heart swelled with love as he saw his mother's spirits lifting with each passing day. They packed her few belongings, which she had kept meticulously, and boarded a train to the city. The chugging of the engine seemed to mirror the excitement building within Madhu.

 

As they arrived in Bengaluru, the stark contrast between the bustling metropolis and the quiet village was palpable. Madhu's eyes grew wide with amazement at the towering buildings and the sea of people. The cacophony of honking horns and chatter filled her ears, a stark reminder of the life she had once known.

 

Aman led her to his modest 1 BHK flat, which to Madhu looked like a palace compared to their village home. She marveled at the gleaming floors and the comforts she hadn't experienced in years. A small TV played in the corner, showing a world of glamour and excitement she had almost forgotten existed.

[Mohit.Kumar]

"Ma, why don't you freshen up?" Aman suggested, noticing her travel-worn state. "I'll start dinner."

Madhu nodded gratefully and retreated to the bathroom. The sound of running water filled the apartment as Aman moved about the kitchen, chopping vegetables and seasoning the meat. His mind raced with thoughts of how to make this transition easier for her. He knew the culture shock would be immense, but he was determined to give her a new lease on life.

When she emerged, she was dbangd in a flimsy gamcha that clung to her damp skin. Her silver hair was combed back, and she had applied a hint of kajal to brighten her eyes. Despite her plainness and the years that had etched lines into her face, there was an undeniable beauty in her simplicity. Aman tried to avert his gaze, aware of the inappropriate thoughts that flitted through his mind.

He watched as she moved to her suitcase to change into a blouse and petticoat. The fabric of her undergarments was almost see-through, and he couldn't help but glimpse the soft curves of her body. He felt a sudden warmth spread through his chest and lower, a confusing mix of love and desire that he quickly suppressed. He knew he had to keep their relationship strictly mother and son.

The aroma of sizzling onions filled the air as he focused on cooking. Madhu stepped out of her makeshift dressing area, the light fabric of her petticoat rustling as she moved. Her chubby frame was more pronounced without the bulk of her sari, but there was something oddly appealing about her vulnerability.

They sat down to eat the simple meal he had prepared, the silence between them filled with unspoken hope and anticipation. Madhu's eyes lit up with each bite, savoring the flavors that were a stark contrast to the bland village cuisine she had grown accustomed to. The warmth of the food seemed to melt away the years of solitude and despair that had clung to her.

After dinner, Aman helped her settle into the makeshift bed he had set up for her in the living room. He kissed her forehead and whispered, "Goodnight, Ma." Madhu's eyes closed, and a peaceful smile graced her lips as she drifted off to sleep, lulled by the distant sounds of the city that had once been her home.

The next morning, Aman woke up early, as was his routine. He had to get ready for his job at the MNC. As he stepped out of the flat into the fresh, urban air, he took a deep breath, feeling invigorated by the change of scenery. The park nearby was buzzing with early morning activity: joggers pounding the pavement, children playing, and the faint sound of a radio playing a Bollywood tune.

[Mohit.Kumar]

As he approached the park, he saw a group of women performing yoga, their lithe bodies bending in unison under the guidance of an instructor. Among them was Nita, a 35-year-old woman with a curvy figure that seemed to defy gravity. She caught his eye and flashed him a flirty smile, her gaze lingering on his muscular frame. Aman felt a blush creep up his neck. He had always been shy around women, especially those who were so forward.

Nita, noticing his discomfort, approached him. "Hi, handsome," she cooed, her voice dripping with an allure that seemed to thicken the air around them. "You're new to the park, aren't you?"

Aman nodded, trying to keep his cool. "I've just moved here with my mother," he said, hoping that mentioning his mother would deter any further advances.

Nita's eyes widened slightly, and she took a step closer, her breasts pressing against her tight yoga top. "How sweet," she purred. "But a strong young man like you shouldn't have to spend all his time with his mother."

He took a step back, his heart racing. "Thanks," he managed to say, "but I need to go now. I'm late for work." He turned and hurried away, the image of Nita's seductive smile burned into his mind.

While jogging, Aman found it hard to concentrate. The encounter with Nita had stirred feelings he had long buried. He had always been attracted to older women, something his friends back in the village had teased him about mercilessly. But he had never acted on it, not even when the opportunity had presented itself.

When he returned to the flat, the quietness was a stark contrast to the noisy park. He tiptoed to the living room, not wanting to disturb Madhu. But what he saw made his breath hitch in his throat. Madhu was still asleep, her body sprawled out on the bed.

[Mohit.Kumar]

Her petticoat had ridden up in her sleep, revealing the soft, round curves of her thighs. Aman's eyes traveled upward, taking in the swell of her breasts under her blouse. The material clung to her wet skin, outlining the darkened areolae of her nipples. He couldn't help but feel his pulse quicken.

The room was thick with the scent of her, a mix of soap and something uniquely maternal that he had never noticed before. His gaze lingered on her, the soft rise and fall of her chest with each breath, the way her hair fanned out across the pillow.

Against his will, he felt his body respond, his cock thickening in his pants. He tried to look away, but his eyes kept returning to her. It was wrong, he knew, but the sight of his mother, so vulnerable and alluring, was like a siren's call he couldn't resist.

Her skin, usually hidden under layers of clothing, was smooth and inviting. He felt his hand twitch, a desperate need to reach out and touch her. To feel the warmth of her flesh under his fingertips, to reassure himself that she was real and here with him.

A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, and his heart pounded in his chest. He knew he should leave, that he was crossing a line he could never uncross. But he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. The desire was too intense, too overwhelming.

He took a step closer, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. Madhu stirred in her sleep, her hand moving to rest on her stomach, just above the waistband of her petticoat. The fabric had ridden low, exposing a hint of her belly button. Aman's cock grew harder, straining against the fabric of his pants.

He leaned down, his breath hot against her neck. The urge to kiss her, to claim her as his own, was almost too much to bear. He could feel her warmth, see the pulse at the base of her throat, beating like a drum in time with his own erratic heart.

Madhu's breathing grew deeper, more rhythmic. Her hand shifted on her stomach, fingers brushing against the soft fabric of her blouse. Aman watched, transfixed, as the material tented upward, revealing the outline of a hardened nipple. His mouth watered at the thought of tasting her, of feeling her body react to his touch.

He took another step closer, his heart hammering in his chest like a drum. His hand reached out, hovering above her skin. It was as if there was an invisible force field around her, holding him at bay. But the need to bridge that gap was too strong.

[Mohit.Kumar]

His fingers brushed against her neck, and she shivered in her sleep. He traced the line of her collarbone, feeling the slightest tremor of her pulse beneath his fingertips. Madhu's hand slid upwards, her fingers curling around the neckline of her blouse, unknowingly teasing the taut peak of her nipple. Aman's breath hitched as his gaze followed the movement, his own hand mirroring hers on the opposite side of her body.

He leaned in closer, his eyes locked on hers. They were still closed, but he could see the rapid flutter of her eyelids, a silent testament to the dreams she was lost in. His thumb grazed her lower lip, and he couldn't help but wonder what she was dreaming about. Was she dreaming of him?

He felt a strange, heady mix of love and lust swirl in his stomach. Madhu was his mother, and yet here he was, unable to control his urges. The softness of her skin, the sweet scent of her hair, the gentle rise and fall of her chest with each breath, it was all too tempting.

Aman's eyes traveled over her body, taking in every detail. Her plump, rounded breasts rose and fell with each inhalation, the fabric of her blouse now damp and clinging to her skin. Her thighs were parted slightly, the petticoat barely concealing the dark thatch of hair between her legs.

He felt his cock throb in response, his mind racing with thoughts of what it would be like to touch her, to feel her warmth, to explore her in a way that was forbidden, yet oh-so tempting. Madhu's hand had stilled on her stomach, her breaths growing shallower. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face, and he had to fight the urge to lean in and lick it away.

He took another step closer, his hand trembling as he reached out to caress her cheek. She stirred slightly, her full, lush lips parting in a soft sigh. The urge to claim her mouth with his own was like a fire raging inside him, consuming all rational thought. But he hesitated, the reality of what he was about to do crashing down upon him like a tidal wave.

Aman's eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of awareness, any indication that she knew what he was feeling. But Madhu remained blissfully asleep, lost in her dreams. He leaned in, his breath hot against her skin, and whispered, "Ma," his voice filled with a longing that scared him.

[Mohit.Kumar]

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him, confusion clouding her gaze. Then she smiled, the same warm, loving smile she had given him a thousand times before. Without a word, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. An electric jolt ran through his body.

"Thank you, Aman," she murmured into his chest. "Thank you for bringing me here."

Aman nodded, his heart pounding. He stepped back, breaking the embrace and forcing a smile. "Ma, go get ready. I'll make breakfast."

Madhu sat up slowly, the petticoat sliding down to cover her thighs. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and padded barefoot to the bathroom. Aman couldn't help but watch the gentle sway of her hips as she moved, his eyes lingering on the fullness of her figure. The door clicked shut behind her, and the sound of water running filled the flat.

With a sigh, Aman turned to the kitchen, his mind still reeling from the tumult of emotions. He busied himself with the familiar task of making breakfast, his hands moving on autopilot as he chopped onions and cracked eggs into a sizzling pan. The smell of spices filled the air, a comforting reminder of his mother's presence in the house.

A few moments later, unable to shake off the image of Madhu's exposed skin, he found himself drawn to the bathroom door. He told himself it was just to check if she needed anything, but the truth was he couldn't resist the urge to gaze upon her again. He approached it quietly, his heart racing, and pressed his eye to the crack where the door had not quite closed.

[Mohit.Kumar]

Madhu was squatting over the traditional Indian-style toilet, her petticoat hiked up around her waist. Her plump thighs were spread wide, and the light from the small window cast a soft glow on her skin.
 
Her cheeks puckered as she strained, the muscles in her thighs flexing with the effort.Aman watched, his eyes widening with a mix of horror and fascination, as a long, thick turd slid out from between Madhu's buttocks.The sound of the shit splattering against the porcelain was surprisingly loud in the small space.
 
The turd was a dark brown, almost black, and it curled lazily in the water, breaking the surface tension with a wet plop. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before, a testament to the simple, fiber-rich diet of the village.
 
Madhu's asshole gaped open, pink and wet, the muscles around it pulsing slightly as she pushed out the last remnants of her bowel movement. The sight of his mother's anus was shocking, but also oddly mesmerizing. He had never seen a woman's private parts up close, not even in porn. Here, it was all too real, and he couldn't tear his eyes away.
 
With a final grunt, another turd emerged, smaller than the first but no less impactful. It slid out with ease, the smell of it hitting him like a punch to the face. It was a rich, earthy scent that filled the small bathroom, mingling with the steam from the shower. He felt his stomach churn slightly, but his cock remained rock-hard.
 
Madhu's cheeks puffed out and she let out a loud, guttural fart that reverberated around the small room. The smell grew stronger, a potent mix of shit and gas that made Aman's eyes water. He should have felt repulsed, but instead, his arousal only grew.
 
Madhu reached for the water bucket and a cup, rinsing herself off with practiced ease. The water splashed against her skin, and he could see the rivulets of brown running down her legs, mixing with the water on the floor. She stood, wiping herself with a gamcha, the sight of her exposed body now tainted with the reality of her bodily functions.

[Mohit.Kumar]

The sound of the water stopped, and Aman quickly stepped away from the door, his cheeks flaming. He had never felt more like a pervert than he did at that moment. But the image of her, so raw and vulnerable, was burned into his mind.

 

With a final, shaky breath, he turned his attention back to the breakfast. He tried to focus on the task at hand, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Madhu in the bathroom. Despite the mortification he felt at being caught in such a private moment, he couldn't deny the strange thrill that had shot through him.

 

As Madhu emerged from the bathroom, Aman's gaze darted to her, his eyes lingering for just a moment too long on the spot between her legs. She caught his look, and a knowing smile played on her lips. "Breakfast smells delicious, beta," she said, moving closer to him in the kitchen.

 

Aman's heart hammered in his chest as he plated the food, his thoughts racing with the memory of her in such an intimate moment. He handed her a plate, trying to keep his trembling hand steady. "Ma, I need to go to the office now," he said, his voice strained.

 

Madhu took the plate with a nod, the knowing smile still playing on her lips. "Be safe, Aman," she said, her voice softer than he had ever heard it.

 

With a final glance at her, he practically bolted from the apartment, his thoughts racing. The office was a welcome distraction, the mundane tasks and familiar faces a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions that plagued him. He threw himself into his work, the glow of computer screens and the murmur of his colleagues' voices a comforting balm to his frazzled nerves.

[Mohit.Kumar]

Yet, every so often, the image of Madhu's gaping asshole and the sound of her fart echoed in his mind, sending a shiver down his spine. He had to admit, the sight had been utterly fascinating. There was something primal about it that called to the deepest, darkest parts of his being.

 

Aman found himself getting hard at his desk, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the persistent throb. It was as if his body was rebelling against his mind, urging him to act on the impulses he knew were wrong.

 

The rest of the day passed in a blur of half-hearted concentration and furtive glances at his phone, scrolling through porn sites, searching for something that would match the intensity of what he had witnessed. But everything felt pale in comparison to the raw, unfiltered reality of his mother's body.

 

When he returned home that evening, the apartment was suffused with the scent of Madhu's cooking. The aroma of garlic and spices filled the air, but underlying it all was the faint, lingering odor of her morning ablution. He couldn't ignore the way his nostrils flared, his senses heightened by the memory of the smell in the bathroom.

 

Madhu greeted him with a warm smile, her eyes seeming to hold a secret that only she knew. Aman felt his face heat up as he took in her simple cotton sari, the way it clung to her curves in a way that made him acutely aware of her womanhood.

That evening, as he lay in his bed, unable to sleep, he found himself scrolling through his phone, looking for a release from the thoughts that haunted him. He stumbled upon a link to an anonymous online forum. The title was innocuous enough, but the description sent a thrill through him: "Sharing Our Forbidden Desires."

 

He clicked on it, and the door to a world of taboo and temptation swung wide open. There, he found others like him, sharing their experiences, their fears, and their darkest fantasies. Men and women from all walks of life, all bound by a shared secret that had brought them together in this digital sanctum.

 

Aman read post after post, his eyes glazing over as he absorbed the tales of incestuous longing and the graphic descriptions of illicit acts. Some of the stories were disturbing, but many were eerily similar to his own burgeoning desires. He found himself nodding along, understanding the complex mix of emotions that these strangers described.

 

One post in particular caught his eye. It was from a user named 'BihariMamma', who spoke of their own mother, her plump body and the way she moved around the house in her sari, the fabric whispering against her skin. Aman felt a jolt of recognition, his heart racing as he read on.

 

BihariMamma spoke of the moment he had realized his desires, the way his mother's scent filled the room, a mix of sweat and something more primal. He described the way her breasts swayed as she worked in the kitchen, the soft jiggle of her stomach as she walked, and the way her sari would sometimes reveal a tantalizing glimpse of her thigh. The words painted a picture that was all too vivid, and Aman found himself stroking his cock, his mind racing with the possibilities.

 

He read on, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps, as BihariMamma recounted the slow, deliberate dance of seduction. It had started with small things, a lingering touch here, a gentle brush there. He had made sure to be around when his mother was at her most vulnerable, when she was getting dressed or undressed, when she was in the shower with the curtain slightly ajar. He had studied her, learned her routines, her likes, and dislikes, and used that knowledge to insinuate himself into her personal space.

 

Aman's hand moved faster on his cock, his arousal building to a crescendo as he imagined doing the same to Madhu. He could feel the wetness spreading across his palm, a silent testament to his own depravity. Yet, as he read further, he found himself nodding in understanding. BihariMamma spoke of the guilt that ate away at him, the constant battle between his love for his mother and his burning lust.

 

He described the first time he had acted on his desires, the way she had looked at him with a mix of shock and something else, something that could have been desire, before pushing him away. But he had been relentless, wearing her down with his attentions, his touches growing bolder each day until she had finally given in.

 

Aman's cock was now throbbing, the veins pulsing with the force of his arousal. He had never felt such a powerful urge before, and it terrified him. Yet, as he continued to read, he found himself inching closer to the edge, his mind racing with thoughts of Madhu. He imagined her plump body sprawled on the bed, her sari discarded on the floor, her breasts heavy and full, her thighs spread wide in invitation.

 

His hand tightened around his shaft, stroking faster, as he read about BihariMamma's first time with his mother. The way she had struggled at first, her cries of protest muffled by a pillow, until she had succumbed to the pleasure he had coaxed from her body. The way her cunt had gripped his cock, wet and tight, as he had thrust into her, claiming her in the most forbidden of ways. The story was raw and explicit, and Aman could almost feel the heat of her, the slickness of her sex as he pumped his hand in time with the words on the screen.

 

His balls tightened, and with a strangled groan, he came, spurts of semen painting the wall beside his bed. His heart raced, his chest heaving with the force of his orgasm. As the pleasure receded, the guilt crashed over him like a tidal wave. What was he doing? He couldn't act on these thoughts, not with his own mother. But the seed had been planted, and he knew it would be difficult to ignore.

[Mohit.Kumar]

The predawn light crept through the curtains, casting a soft lattice pattern across Madhu's voluptuous form as she lay sprawled across her bed, the fabric of her maxi nightie clinging to the contours of her body like a lover's embrace. A gentle symphony of snores emanated from her parted lips, the soft puffs of her breath raising and lowering the swells of her ample breasts. The quiet of the flat in Bengaluru was a stark contrast to the cacophony of the city outside, the occasional honk of a distant rickshaw a mere whisper in the fabric of their domestic sanctum.

 

Aman, his eyes heavy with the weight of his own desires, tiptoed into the room, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and guilt. His gaze devoured her, tracing the curve of her hip, the roundness of her belly that spoke of a life filled with warmth and love. Her legs were slightly parted, the nightie riding up just enough to reveal the shadowy crevice where her thighs met. The scent of her filled the room – a heady mix of sleep and the faint trace of jasmine from the oil she used to massage her hair before bedtime.

 

The fabric of Madhu's nightie whispered against her skin as she shifted in her sleep, her hand moving to rest on the pillow beside her head, the gold bangles on her wrist jingling softly. Aman felt his breath catch in his throat as he took in the sight of her bare feet, the toes curling and uncurling in a silent dance of slumber. He knew he should leave, should respect the sanctity of her privacy, but his body betrayed him, his eyes lingering on the soft folds of skin that spoke of a woman who had lived, loved, and nurtured.

 

As if drawn by an invisible force, Madhu's eyes fluttered open, the deep pools of brown locking with Aman's. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath as mother and son stared at each other in the dim light, the air thick with the unspoken understanding that had been brewing between them. Her eyes searched his, reading the hunger and need there, the same emotions reflected in her own gaze. Time stretched, a taut thread about to snap under the weight of their desire.

 

Her hand slid from the pillow to her son's cheek, the softness of her palm against his stubble sending a jolt of electricity through his body. The warmth of her touch seeped into his skin, setting his pulse racing as he leaned into it, his breath coming in shallow gasps. Madhu felt the tremble in his jaw as his hand reached out to rest on her waist, his thumb tracing the line where fabric met flesh, sending goosebumps skittering across her body. The silence of the room was a symphony of unspoken truths, their bodies a canvas for a story that had been written in invisible ink on their hearts.

 

Madhu's eyes searched Aman's, seeking reassurance in the maelstrom of emotions that swirled within her. His gaze was earnest, hungry, and filled with a love that she had never before seen in his eyes. The love of a man for a woman, not the adoration of a son for his mother. She felt the weight of the moment, the gravity of the decision that lay before them.

 

Slowly, she pushed herself up from the bed, the fabric of her nightie slipping down to expose her shoulders and the swell of her breasts. Aman's eyes followed her movements, his hand still trembling against her waist. Madhu reached out to him, her hand finding the warmth of his skin as she pulled him closer. Their embrace was tentative at first, as if both were afraid that the other would vanish into the early morning light. But as their bodies melded together, the tremors of doubt gave way to the solidity of desire, and they clung to each other with a desperation that spoke of years of repressed need.

 

The warmth of Aman's embrace seeped into Madhu's very bones, filling her with a sense of belonging that she hadn't felt since her husband had passed away. His arms felt like home, a shelter from the storm of societal norms that would surely judge them for the passion that raged between them. She nestled her face into his neck, inhaling the scent of him – a blend of aftershave and sweat that was uniquely his. The beat of his heart was a steady drum in her ear, a rhythm that seemed to sync with the pulse that throbbed between her legs.

 

Aman's hand slid up her back, the gentle pressure of his fingertips leaving trails of fire in their wake as he pulled her closer. Her own body responded in kind, her breasts swelling against his chest, the fabric of her nightie a flimsy barrier to the heat of his skin. Her hands found his shoulders, kneading the firm muscles beneath his t-shirt, her nails digging in slightly as the tension grew.

 

But as their bodies pressed together, a sudden jolt of reality shot through Madhu like a bolt of lightning. She stiffened in his arms, the gravity of what they were doing crashing down on her with the weight of a thousand unspoken words. The warmth of his embrace grew cold as she realized the line they were crossing was not easily uncrossed. With a tremble that started in her core and traveled to her fingertips, she pushed him away, breaking the spell that had held them in its thrall.

 

[Mohit.Kumar]

Aman took a deep breath as he stepped into the hallway, his mind still swirling with the sensual fog of the morning shower. Madhu, in her usual attire of a vibrant maxi nightie, looked up from her morning chai as he approached the door. He couldn’t help but notice the way the soft fabric clung to her curvy figure, revealing the outline of her ample breasts and the gentle swell of her hips. She looked radiant in the early morning light, her skin glowing with a hint of moisture from their steamy encounter.

 

With a sudden, surprising boldness, Madhu set her cup aside and rose to her feet. She walked over to Aman, a playful smile dancing on her lips. He felt a flutter in his stomach as she reached up to kiss him goodbye, her warm breath tickling his ear. The first kiss was soft, landing on his cheek, and he felt the tender brush of her skin against his. Then she leaned in closer, her eyes fluttering shut, and her second kiss landed on the edge of his lips. It was a whisper of a touch, a silent promise that seemed to echo through the quiet apartment. Aman's heart skipped a beat, and his body tensed in anticipation.

 

Her plump, velvety lips lingered there, the warmth of her breath mingling with his. The sensation was electric, sending shivers down his spine and stirring a hunger deep within him. Madhu's hand slid up to cup his cheek, her thumb stroking the line of his jaw as if urging him to respond. Aman's eyes closed instinctively, and his head tilted slightly, offering her the access she sought

 

With a hurried bye to Madhu, he bolted from the apartment..

 

The day at the office felt like an eternity to Aman. His thoughts wandered back to the tantalizing kiss his mother had bestowed upon him that morning. The memory of her soft, warm breath and the gentle pressure of her hand on his cheek was a constant presence in his mind, a seductive whisper that refused to be silenced. His body thrummed with a newfound energy, a cocktail of desire and bewilderment that made his workday tasks seem trivial. The hours dragged on as he found himself glancing at the clock every few minutes, eager to return home and explore the uncharted territory that lay between them.

 

When Aman finally stepped into their small Bengaluru flat, the atmosphere felt unusually heavy. The apartment was eerily quiet, and a sense of unease settled over him like a thick fog. He called out to Madhu, expecting to hear the comforting sound of her laughter or the clang of pots and pans from the kitchen. Instead, there was only silence. His concern grew as he made his way down the hallway and pushed open the door to her bedroom.

[Mohit.Kumar]

The sight that greeted him was far from what he had anticipated. Madhu lay on the bed, her body dbangd in a sheen of perspiration, the maxi nightie now a crumpled mess at her feet. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, each breath a shallow gasp. The heat radiating from her flushed skin was palpable, a stark contrast to the cool evening air conditioning. Aman's heart lurched at the sight of her, his mind racing with fear. He rushed to her side, placing a hand on her forehead, confirming the scorching heat of her fever. Madhu's eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him with a glassy, feverish gaze.

 

"Aman," she murmured weakly, her voice a mere thread of its usual vibrancy. "I'm not feeling well."

 

Aman's mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The urge to take care of his mother warred with the carnality that had been steadily building inside him all day. He swallowed hard, his hand trembling slightly as he reached out to brush a damp strand of hair from her forehead.

 

"Mom," he said softly, the word thick with concern. "I'll get you some medicine."

 

Aman's voice was a gentle rumble that seemed to cut through the oppressive silence of the room. Madhu nodded, her eyes never leaving his. He could see the fear in them, the vulnerability that she never allowed to show. It was a stark reminder that she wasn’t just the object of his illicit desires but also his mother, who needed his care and protection.

 

He pulled away reluctantly, the warmth of her body already a distant memory as he stepped into the chilly embrace of the hallway. Grabbing his keys and wallet, he headed for the door. The journey to the pharmacy was a blur of neon lights and the cacophony of the city. His mind was elsewhere, with Madhu's feverish body and the way her hand had clung to his shirt as he promised to return quickly.

 

[rameshrv936]

Wow .... that one is good update bro...

[Mohit.Kumar]

Wow .... that one is good update bro...