Nice story... Let manoj be forcing his mother once or twice and then she's into guilty pleasure...
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Adultery Whispers of Lust: My Mom's Forbidden Path
Adultery Whispers of Lust: My Mom's Forbidden Path
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Adultery Whispers of Lust: My Mom's Forbidden Path
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10-04-2025, 12:05 PM
(07-04-2025, 07:36 PM)Rajeev Gupta Wrote: Yes you are right, I am the writer. I deleted it because it was obsolete. However, this story "Whispers...." is a new fresh and real one with tantalizing plot twists. This story will contain fresh updates every 28 hours, so stay tuned and don't miss out. Give a good long update
10-04-2025, 07:32 PM
waiting for the nxt update...
11-04-2025, 05:51 AM
Update pls bro. Eagerly awaiting.
11-04-2025, 03:38 PM
12-04-2025, 03:48 PM
12-04-2025, 03:50 PM
Sorry for the late update friends
The next morning, I woke to the smell of parathas wafting through the house.
Mom was already in the kitchen, bustling around, the clink of utensils a familiar comfort. I shuffled to the table, rubbing sleep from my eyes, and started eating—hot, buttery parathas with curd, her specialty.
She stood by the stove, dbangd in a tight saree that hugged her curves like a second skin.
The fabric clung to her 38-inch breasts, outlining their full, soft shape, and cinched her narrow waist, flaring out over her plump, juicy ass.
It wasn’t her usual modest dbang—Shalini’s influence was clear, pushing my holy mom into something bold, sexy, meant to catch eyes.
Me: - “Ma, you’re dressed up nice—where you going today?”
Mom: - “Oh, nowhere special, Sanjay—just felt like wearing something good. Manoj might come by to see us later.”
Me: - “Manoj? Okay… cool, I guess.”
She didn’t tell me the truth—her vague answer hid something, and I knew it tied to last night’s fire, the horny edge Manoj had left her with.
I nodded, digging into my food, keeping my suspicions quiet.
That evening, the doorbell rang, and Manoj stepped in, carrying a jug of passion juice—Mom’s favorite, a bright orange tease in his hands.
He grinned wide, too wide, and I wasn’t friendly. I knew his intentions—to fuck my mom, to take what he’d stirred in the car—but I trusted her strength, her faith, to keep him at bay.
She greeted him, cautious, not overly warm, her respect a thin shield.
Mom: - “Manoj, you’re here—thanks for the juice. Sanjay, say hello.”
Me: - “Hey.”
Manoj: - “Hey, kid—good to see you too. Rekha, you’re looking… radiant.”
Mom: - “Thank you—just a simple day. How was your drive?”
Her tone stayed careful, a shield against his charm, but Manoj’s gaze roamed over her, settling on her breasts with a sultry, unabashed hunger.
He stared, drinking in my mom's full, luscious shape of her breasts, the saree straining to contain them, his eyes tracing every curve as if he could already feel them under his hands.
Mom noticed, she didn't like the hungry attention she is getting from another man , and she adjusted her pallu, pulling it higher to cover her chest.
Manoj: - “Oh, Rekha, don’t go hiding those gorgeous milkshakes—they’re too perfect to tuck away.
Let them breathe, let them tease the world a little, like the slutty treasures they are.”
Mom: - “Manoj, please, watch what you say my son is close—it’s just a saree, and I’d rather you didn’t talk like that in front of Sanjay. Keep it respectful, alright?”
Manoj: - “Respectful’s fine, but this saree’s a tease all on its own—it’s hugging you like it wants to slip off, showing off those curves that’d make any man weak. It’s a warm night, Rekha, and you’re the heat.”
His voice was a low, velvety purr, thick with innuendo, and he shrugged off his shirt with a slow, deliberate motion, revealing a tight vest that clung to his broad, muscled chest—dark hair curling over taut, sweat-slicked skin. This was few minutes later while he was sitting on the couch. He stretched, flexing subtly, a sensual display that made his presence magnetic, and Mom’s eyes flickered, caught for a moment by the raw, masculine allure of his chest. She masked it quickly, her tone sharpening with a hint of unease. Mom: - “Manoj, please put your shirt back on—it’s not that hot in here, and I’d feel more comfortable if you stayed dressed properly while you’re in my home.”
Manoj: - “Feels like a furnace to me, Rekha—your radiance is setting me ablaze, and this vest is all I need to cool off. Relax, let me enjoy the night’s heat with you.”
He leaned closer, his musky, primal scent drifting toward her—a heady tease—and she turned away, pouring the juice with hands that trembled slightly, fighting the erotic spell he cast.
Night fell, and sleep loomed. Mom fixed me with a steady, protective look.
Mom: - “Sanjay, you’ll sleep in my room with me tonight—Manoj can take your room. We’ve only got two, and I’d rather keep you close.”
Me: - “Okay, Ma.”
I understood—her caution around Manoj, his simmering intent to fuck her tonight, made her want me nearby.
In her room, I settled close on the bed, her familiar jasmine scent calming me.
She locked the door, checking it twice with a careful twist, then slipped into a loose nightgown, her big, juicy ass swaying as she climbed in beside me.
We drifted off to sleep, the house hushed.
At midnight, I woke, my bladder nudging me. I slipped out, used the bathroom in the dark went to pee and padded back—then froze.
Manoj stood at Mom’s door, his vest tight against his chest, eyes dark with a quiet, sensual purpose. My stomach tightened—I didn’t like seeing him there.
Me: - “Why are you here Manoj?”
Manoj: - “Hey, little man—don’t worry, just go sleep in your room, okay? Your mom and I need to give your mom a massage, she told me she wanted massage after long night"
Me: - “A massage? But it’s so late—why now?”
Manoj: - “She’s been tired all day, Sanjay—grown-ups sometimes need to massage each other late. It’s nothing for you to think about, just head back to bed.”
Me: - “This late? That’s strange.”
Manoj: - “Not strange at all—just helping her unwind. Be a good kid, off you go—I’ll take care of everything.”
His voice was soft, treating me like a child who shouldn’t know more, and I hesitated, then nodded, walking back to my room.
I felt uneasy, wishing I’d stayed with her, sensing he’d try to fuck her—but his gentle tone had eased me away.
The door clicked shut, the lock snapping into place, and worry twisted inside me—I’d let him in too easily.
Minutes later, I couldn’t stay still. I sneaked back, heart pounding, and peeked through the keyhole. Manoj was naked—his clothes a crumpled heap, his body a sculpted tease in the dim light.
Mom was still sleeping, unaware of what was unfolding before her.
His cock was huge, thick and veiny, a pulsing length he stroked with slow, sensual intent, whispering her name—
“Rekha, wake up, my slut”—his voice a husky, seductive murmur. It hung heavy, a massive, erotic beast that swayed with each stroke, its raw power a shock to my wide eyes.
Why is he calling my mom a slut? I felt anger boil in me.
Mom stirred, blinking awake, then gasped, her eyes locking on him—on that cock, bold and thrusting toward her.
Her nightgown clung to her curves, her plump ass shifting as she sat up, shock and a flicker of awe washing over her face.
Mom: - “Manoj—what are you doing in here? Get out of my room this instant—I didn’t invite you!”
Manoj: - “I’m here to fuck you, Rekha—to satisfy that needy pussy that’s been aching for me ever since the car ride. You can’t deny how bad you want this, slut.”
Mom: - “You’re out of your mind—where’s Sanjay? What have you done with my son, Manoj? Tell me now!”
Manoj: - “He’s safe in his room, don’t fret, slut—this is our moment now. Your body’s been screaming for my cock, and I’m here to give it what it craves.”
Mom: - “Don’t you dare call me that—move away from me, Manoj, I’m serious! I’m not some toy for you to play with—get out!”
She stood, her gaze dropping to his cock—thick, intimidating, a monster that stole her breath.
I saw the shock in her eyes, its size hitting her like a wave, and she pointed, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance.
I am very sure my mom knew his cock was bigger than my dad's tiny rod.
Mom: - “Hide that filthy thing right now—it’s shameful and disgusting, and I don’t want it anywhere near me!”
Manoj: - “Shameful? This cock’s your deepest fantasy, Rekha—big, hard, throbbing just for you. It’s ready to fuck you deep, make you moan like the slut you’re dying to be.”
He lunged, a smooth, erotic hug, his lips crashing onto hers with a lover’s fiery passion.
Mom twisted, pushing hard at his chest, her head dodging his kisses—not forced, but firm, his strength a sensual cage.
Her hands pressed against him, her fat ass jiggling but his mouth claimed hers, a deep, wet kiss that melted her resistance with its intensity.
His breath—rancid, sour, a filthy tang—drifted through the keyhole, making me wrinkle my nose, but his erotic pull held her captive.
Mom: - “Let me go, Manoj—I’m holy, not your dirty slut! Your breath is awful—it stinks, and I want you off me right now!”
Manoj: - “Holy? Your pussy’s been wet for me since that car, Rekha—I won’t stop till I fuck you senseless. You need this, slut, and I’m not leaving until you’re mine.”
Mom: - “No—you’re completely wrong, Manoj! I don’t want you—I want you out of my house, away from me! I have a husband”
Manoj: - “Your heart’s begging for my cock, Rekha—your mind’s just playing shy. Remember the car incident? Your juices dripping on my fingers, your body trembling for more?”
She stiffened, his words a sultry, piercing memory, but he didn’t pause. His hands tore at her nightgown, ripping the bra free, her 38-inch breasts spilling out—full, ripe, nipples dark and taut with unwilling tension.
He dove in, sucking one with a wet, greedy slurp, his tongue swirling slow and deliberate, spit dripping down her skin in a warm trail.
His other hand squeezed her boob, fingers kneading deep with a sensual, possessive grip, leaving her skin flushed and marked. His saliva coated her nipples, slick and glistening, his mouth smacking as he worshipped them with an erotic fervor that filled the room.
Manoj: - “Fuck, Rekha—these boobs are pure heaven—juicy, perfect, made for my lips to devour. I could suck these all night, slut, and still want more.”
Mom: - “Aaahhhh stop it, Manoj—don’t say those filthy things! Get off me—I don’t want this, I don’t want you touching me like this!”
Manoj: - “Can’t stop, Rekha—they’re too fucking sweet, these gorgeous tits. I’m gonna suck them till you’re moaning my name, till you admit you’re my slut.”
His tongue lapped broader strokes, leaving her breasts slick with his spit, his erotic hunger a relentless tide against her fading fight—and maybe, buried beneath her protests, that horny spark he’d ignited, now flickering brighter under his sensual assault.
Then he threw her on the bed.......
To be continued in the next 16 hours...
Your thoughts friends
12-04-2025, 04:16 PM
12-04-2025, 04:47 PM
12-04-2025, 06:07 PM
(12-04-2025, 04:47 PM)Rajeev Gupta Wrote: Why? Read the last update again...I put up just a few glaring ones here... So she invited a man who she only men once before to spend the night at her place??? Previous posts son did not know about fucking because he saw his aunt doing something weird in the bathroom with another man and now he knows... He takes off his shirt in front of son just like that??? At night she sleeps with her bedroom door open especially with Manoj in the house who she is not comfortable with.... Manoj walks in and asks son to go to his room and son walks out... And once in bed he is naked and is already addressing her as a "slut"...
12-04-2025, 06:31 PM
(12-04-2025, 06:07 PM)sexypreeti Wrote: Read the last update again...I put up just a few glaring ones here... Correct! Remember, the son is writing story years after he now understands about sex. And yes, she invited Manoj A DAY after she met him but remember the mom is following instructions of her most trusted friend, Shalini. So don't forget that. Secondly, yes Manoj removes shirt in front of son & remains in vest because he takes advantage of son's innocence of not knowing what "removing shirt" Infront of mom means. Thirdly, read properly, mom didn't leave the door unlocked, rather son left it unlocked when he went to pee. And Manoj was stalking all night waiting for son to go & pee & he planned it. It's common sense that son obeyed Manoj because son was taught to obey. And yes, Manoj calls mom slut because of few things: Mom followed instructions of Shalini to wear tight dressing earlier at the party, neglecting her holy profile. Moreover, the term "slut" as used by Manoj doesn't imply the mom slept with multiple men. Rather, he named her slut to signify mom's thirst for sex. I understand the story isn't moving in the direction you want but I would urge you to ride along since stories are different, not all will go your way. But stay tuned for the next update ☺️☺️
12-04-2025, 11:32 PM
Manoj grabbed Mom’s waist with a sudden, hungry surge, throwing her onto the bed like a prize he’d claimed. Her body hit the mattress with a soft thud, her big, juicy ass jiggling wildly, her 38-inch breasts bouncing under the torn nightgown, her 34-inch waist twisting as she tried to catch herself.
The sight—her curves trembling, her fat ass quivering—sent a jolt through me, peeking through the keyhole. My heart pounded, worry mixing with a strange heat I didn’t understand, my dick stirring in my pants as I watched her struggle, her boobs heaving, her skin flushed from his earlier sucking, her nipples hard and slick with his spit. For a young person like me, I didn't really understand why my dick was getting hard just by watching my mom doing something with another man which she used to do with my dad. Mom: - “Manoj, stop this right now—I’m begging you, get off me! I’m not your woman, this is wrong, you can’t do this to me!” Manoj: - “Stop? Fuck that, Rekha—you’re my slut tonight, and I’m not leaving till I’ve fucked you raw. Been dreaming of your pussy, planning every move to make you scream, you filthy whore.” His voice was thick with disrespect, a smirk curling his lips as he towered over her, his huge cock—thick, veiny, massive—swaying like a taunt. He leaned down, kissing her hard, his lips crashing against hers with a sloppy, greedy force that swallowed her protests. Mom twisted, her hands shoving at his chest, trying to turn her face away, her muffled cries—“No… stop…”—lost in his mouth. His tongue probed deep, his bad breath—sour, rancid—hitting me even through the door, but his strength pinned her, his kiss a relentless claim. Her fat ass shifted on the bed, her boobs pressing against him, and despite her fight, her body seemed to soften, a betraying quiver running through her. His hands slid to her boobs, kneading them roughly, fingers digging into the soft flesh, squeezing until her nipples stood stiff and red. He sucked one hard, his lips slurping loud, his tongue swirling in slow, wet circles, spit dripping down her skin. He tugged the nipple with his teeth, then switched to the other, leaving both glistening, her 38-inch breasts flushed and marked by his hunger. ![[Image: boobs.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/gjK4j1NH/boobs.png) Mom moaned—a low, unwilling sound, “Oh… Manoj… no… stop…you are hurting my breasts and nippples aaahhhh”—her hands pushing weakly at his shoulders, her plump ass grinding into the bed as she tried to shrug him off. The moans slipped out, sharp and needy, her body responding even as she fought, her horny urges battling her words. Mom: - “Please… Manoj… don’t do this… mmm… I’m holy, not your slut… get off me, I can’t take it!” Manoj: - “Holy? Bullshit, Rekha—your boobs are begging for my mouth, your pussy’s next, you whore. I’m gonna fuck you till you forget your prayers and your puja.” He kissed lower, his lips trailing down her stomach, pausing at her navel—a small, perfect dip in her golden skin. His tongue flicked inside, circling slow, his breath hot and teasing as he pressed his face against her. Manoj: - “Fuck, Rekha, this navel’s a goddamn jewel—perfect, sweet, like you were born to be my slut, made for my tongue to taste every inch.” Mom: - “No… stop it, Manoj—don’t touch me there… oh… it’s wrong, you’re filthy, leave me alone!” Her voice shook, but her hands faltered, barely pushing now, her big ass trembling as he ignored her pleas. His fingers tore at the nightgown, ripping it clean off, the fabric falling in shreds until she lay naked except for a pink thong—thin, tight, hugging her pussy like a secret. I was shocked to see my mom wearing a thong. As a young kid, I knew those thongs were worn by women who are on the beach. My mom never wore thongs. I quickly remembered that maybe it was Shalini who gave her this idea of wearing thongs that are very tight. Her 38-inch boobs heaved, her plump ass pressed into the bed, her thighs twitching as she tried to cover herself, her face burning with shame. Manoj: - “A pink thong? You’re a fucking whore, Rekha—holy wife my ass, you’re dressed like a slut ready for my cock. Just look at yourself, prayerful woman wearing a thong” Mom: - “Shut up, you bastard—it’s just underwear, not for you! You’re sick, thinking I’d want this, you pig! It was my friend who suggested it, stop calling me a slut” Manoj: - “Just underwear? Bullshit, whore—you picked this thong to tease me, to make my cock hard. Don’t lie, you’re dripping for me.” He hooked his fingers into the thong’s edges, tugging, ready to remove it, but Mom clamped her fat thighs shut, her juicy ass tensing as she fought to keep him out. Her hands grabbed his wrists, her voice desperate, her body rigid with defiance. Mom: - “No—don’t you dare touch that, Manoj! Don't you dare remove my underwear! Leave it alone, I’m not letting you near my private part, you disgusting man!” Manoj: - “Come on, Rekha—open those sexy thighs, let me see that pussy. You’re fighting, but you’re wet as fuck, whore—stop pretending you don’t want my cock inside you. All that time I was fingering you in the car, you knew very well that it was me but you were pretending to be asleep.” She squirmed, her resistance fierce, her thighs shifting as she twisted, but his hands were strong, sensual, prying at her thighs with a lover’s patience. The thong slipped down, inch by inch, her fight weakening as her horny urges—sparked by his earlier touch—flared hotter. He yanked her thong off, tossing it aside, revealing her shaven pussy—smooth, glistening, fully exposed, her clit peeking out, swollen and ready. I began to suspect was my mom really a slut? Was she just a prayerful woman outside but inside she is craving for another man's cock? And why was she following Shalini's wicked advices all the time? Is she discovering something inside her that was never explored? Manoj: - “Holy shit—shaven clean? You’re a dirty whore, Rekha, prepping your pussy for my cock like a proper slut.” Mom: - “I said enough of your stupidity, Manoj—it’s not for you, you vile bastard! Stop humiliating me, get out now!” Her words were fire, but her body betrayed her, her hips twitching as he slid his fingers to her pussy, rubbing slow, deliberate circles, just like he’d done in the car. His thumb grazed her clit, teasing her folds, her wetness coating his hand. Mom moaned louder, “Oh… no… stop…,” her eyes squeezing shut, her hands gripping the bed, trying to fight him with words, but her resistance was crumbling fast, her big ass lifting slightly, her pussy responding eagerly. ![[Image: pussy-1.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/R0ctvKPc/pussy-1.png) Manoj: - “Same as the car, Rekha—your pussy was dripping then, fucking my fingers. You’re horny as hell, whore, just like I knew.” Mom: - “No… oh… I didn’t want that… mmm… please, Manoj, don’t… I can’t…” Her moans grew sharp, needy—“Mmm… no… oh…”—her words fading into gasps, her horny urges overtaking her fight. Manoj smirked, his fingers working faster on her tight pussy lips and clit, and then he knelt, his mouth diving to her pussy with a wet, greedy hunger. He sucked her pussy folds, his tongue lapping slow at first, tracing every inch, then circling her clit with soft, teasing flicks. He tugged her clit with his lips, sucking hard, slurping loud, his spit mixing with her juices, her pussy slick and swollen under his relentless mouth. Manoj: - “Fuck, Rekha—this pussy’s so damn sweet, whore. Your clit’s throbbing for my tongue, begging me to suck it dry.” Mom: - “Oh… Manoj… no… mmm… it’s wrong… oh… don’t… please…aaahh oooh ssshhhh ooooooohhhhh” She didn’t push him away, her hands trembling, her moans spilling free—“Mmm… oh…”—her big ass grinding into the bed. My earlier anger faded, replaced by a shocking heat—my dick grew hard, throbbing in my pants, a feeling I didn’t understand, watching Mom lose herself. Her hands drifted to her boobs, squeezing them slow, fingers pinching her nipples, and then—stunning me—she licked her fingers, tasting them, a wild, horny move that broke my heart. I didn't expect my mom to start enjoying what this filthy man was doing to her. But how could she control herself? My mom was thirsty for sex for 4 months and no one has fucked her. Even if dad comes and fucks her, I don't think my mom will get satisfied by my dad's small dick So what can she do? She has no other option than to start feeling pleasure. I couldn’t believe it—my pure Mom, always praying, now touching herself, her 38-inch boobs heaving, her pussy dripping, lost in Manoj’s lust. Manoj licked her pussy harder, his tongue diving deeper, sucking her clit with loud, wet pops, his hands spreading her thighs wide to feast. Mom’s moans turned frantic—“Oh… mmm… no…”—and her hands landed on his head, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, her horny urges winning. He growled, his lips smacking, and then flipped her onto her stomach, her fat ass jutting up, round and tempting, a juicy curve that made him pause. ![[Image: ass.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/MGxTb4DQ/ass.png) Mom: - “Manoj—what are you doing? Why are you turning me over like this? Stop it!” Manoj: - “Fuck, Rekha—this ass is a masterpiece, big, juicy, perfect for my hands, my tongue, my cock—damn, you’re built to be fucked. I was staring at your ass the other day at the party and I couldn't get my eyes of that jiggling two globes of yours” He parted her ass cheeks, fingers digging into the plump flesh, spreading them slow to reveal her tight asshole, pink and shy, a forbidden tease. Mom tensed, her voice rising with panic. Mom: - “What are you looking at? Stop it, Manoj—don’t touch my that hole (asshole), it’s not right, it’s shameful, please don’t!” Manoj: - “Shameful? This asshole’s fucking gorgeous, whore—I’m gonna suck it, make you my slut. It’s begging for my tongue, just like your pussy.” Mom squirmed, her big ass shaking as she tried to pull away, her hands clawing the bed. Mom: - “No—Manoj, I’m begging you, not my asshole! It’s dirty, I can’t let you—it’s too much, you’re sick!” Manoj: - “Dirty’s what I love, Rekha—your asshole’s mine, slut, just like your pussy and boobs. I’m fucking every hole tonight, you whore.” The house was a dark, suffocating cage, pressing in on me as I crouched outside Mom’s bedroom door, my eye jammed against the keyhole’s icy metal. My breath came in short, jagged gasps. I was Sanjay, just a kid, too young to piece together the full horror of what was happening in my mom's bedroom with Manoj, but old enough to feel its wrongness like a blade twisting in my gut. My stomach churned, a sick, heavy weight that begged me to run, to hide, to do anything but stay. But my body wouldn’t move, my gaze locked on the nightmare unfolding in Mom’s room, lit by the weak flicker of her bedside lamp. Then Manoj continued licking my mom’s asshole. The door was locked—I’d heard the bolt snap shut when he followed her inside, his voice oozing with that slimy charm he’d used at Shalini’s party. Shalini, Mom’s loud friend who loved stirring up trouble, had thrown that party a day back, all thumping music and grown-ups laughing too hard. Manoj had been there, always too close to Mom, his eyes sharp and greedy, like he was hunting something I didn’t understand then but despised now. Here he was, in our house, on his knees behind her, his face pressed against her big ass in a way that made my skin crawl and my throat burn with bile. Mom stood stiff, her hands gripping the bedpost so hard her knuckles gleamed white, her nightgown bunched up around her hips, leaving her exposed to him, to me, to this moment I couldn’t unsee. The lamplight threw cruel shadows across her tense body, and through the keyhole, I saw it all: her clenched teeth, her eyes squeezed shut, his hungry movements, the way her ass jiggled softly with every slow, deliberate lick of his tongue against her asshole. Each jiggle hit me like a fist, a fresh wave of nausea that made me want to puke, to scream, to make it all stop. I was disgusted, and it wasn’t just because of what he was doing—though that was awful enough to make my head spin with horror. I was a kid and never understood how Manoj was licking my mom's asshole, where her shit comes from. It was because this was Mom, the woman who’d bandaged my cuts, who’d taught me to pray with folded hands, who’d kept our family together while Dad was gone, pouring concrete under a foreign sun to pay our bills. She was my everything, the one who made the world feel safe, the one who held me when I cried. Seeing her like this, vulnerable and violated by a creep like Manoj, felt like someone had torn my heart out and crushed it. Manoj wasn’t Dad, wasn’t even close—just some sleaze Shalini had dragged into our lives, always lingering, always watching Mom like she was something to steal. The way he touched her, the way he acted like he owned this private, sacred part of her, made me want to smash through the door and drag him out. It wasn’t just gross—it was a betrayal, a theft of something I didn’t know could be taken until now. My hands shook, my breath caught, and a rage I was too young to name burned inside me, a desperate need to protect her that felt bigger than my small, trembling frame. Their voices cut through the quiet, low but sharp, like they were both scared someone might hear—never knowing I was there, watching, my eye burning from the keyhole’s edge. Manoj: -“Rekha, I’m not stopping. Your husband’s halfway across the world, sweating his ass off on some construction site, leaving you here all alone. You need a man, and I’m right here, ready to give you what he can’t—every fucking inch of it.” Mom: - “Manoj, please, you have to stop this. It’s wrong, it’s a sin against my marriage, my faith. My husband’s working hard for our family, for our son, and I can’t betray him like this. I’m begging you, let me go.” Manoj didn’t care. His face twisted with a smug, predatory grin, and he leaned in again, his tongue dragging slowly against her asshole, making her buttocks jiggle again, a soft, sickening ripple that made my stomach lurch. I clapped a hand over my mouth, fighting the bile clawing up my throat. It wasn’t just the act—it was his arrogance, the way he ignored her pleas like they were nothing, like she was just a body for him to use. The keyhole showed it all too clearly: the locked door, Mom’s trembling frame, Manoj’s hands on her ass, pinning her like she was his to keep. My nails dug into my palms, tiny stings of pain grounding me as my body screamed for me to be bigger, stronger, anything but a kid stuck watching something so vile. Then he pulled back just enough to speak, his voice thick with a sick obsession that made my skin prickle. Manoj: - “Fuck, Rekha, your asshole’s driving me crazy. It’s so tight, so fucking dirty, smells like you’ve been keeping it just for me. That raw, musky heat—it’s like a drug, makes my cock throb so hard I can’t think straight. I wanna bury my tongue in it, taste every filthy bit of you.” Mom: - “You’re disgusting, Manoj. How can you say such vile things? This is my body, not your plaything. I pray every day for my family, for strength, and you’re spitting on all of that with your filthy words. Stop this now, I’m begging you.” Manoj: - “Disgusting? It’s fucking perfect, Rekha. This little hole’s begging for me, all tight and hot, like it knows I’m the only one who gets it. You can’t hide how real this is—no prayers are gonna change what your asshole is telling me.” Mom: - “Stop it. I’m not your toy, Manoj. I belong to my husband, to God, to my son. You’re defiling everything I hold sacred with your hands, your words. Get off me and leave my house before I scream.” He didn’t listen. His hands tightened on her thighs, and with every slow, deliberate lick, her big ass jiggled again, each movement searing into my brain like a wound. My eye stung from the keyhole’s metal, but I couldn’t blink, couldn’t move, my whole body locked in horror and helpless rage To be continued..... What do you think guys!
Yesterday, 12:20 AM
(12-04-2025, 06:31 PM)Rajeev Gupta Wrote: Correct! Remember, the son is writing story years after he now understands about sex. I can answer each of your lines but I will refrain from doing that... Let there be peace..  This is your story and you have every right to stir it around the way you want it to...
Yesterday, 01:04 AM
wow!! superb update....
keep going.....waiting for the nxt part
Yesterday, 05:25 PM
My disgust wasn’t just physical—it was deeper, tied to everything Manoj was trying to take.
Dad was gone, working himself to death for us, and Manoj thought he could slink in and claim Mom’s body, her dignity, our family.
Ad my holy mom, didn't have any other options because she was deprived of sex.
He wasn’t just a pervert—he was a predator, mocking Mom’s faith with every touch, every word, and I hated how small I felt, how my skinny arms couldn’t do anything but tremble.
Then he leaned back further, his voice dropping to a filthy, obsessive purr, his eyes glinting in the lamplight.
Manoj: - “It’s like sweat and salt, Rekha. Your asshole’s dripping with it—raw, like you’ve been carrying this house, this life, all on your own. The smell’s thick, heavy, like every day you’ve spent working, worrying, pretending you don’t need a man to make you feel alive. It’s salty, bitter, coats my tongue like a fucking gift, makes my dick throb so hard I can barely stand it. You’re all woman here, Rekha, and I’m gonna taste every inch of it.”
Mom: - "You’re vile, Manoj. Sweat and salt? You think that’s some kind of compliment? It’s my body, my struggle, not your sick fantasy. I pray to God to forgive me for letting you anywhere near me. You’re twisting something pure into something evil, and I won’t let you drag me into your sin.”
Manoj: - "Evil? This is real, Rekha. This sweaty, salty asshole is you—every bit of your strength, your heat, your truth. It’s screaming for me, even if you won’t admit it. Your body’s honest, even if your mouth lies. I’m not stopping, not when I can feel how much you’re mine tonight.”
Mom: - "I’m not yours, Manoj, and I never will be. My heart belongs to my husband, my faith to God, my life to my son. You’re forcing this, denigrating me, but you can’t touch my soul. Get out of my house now, or I’ll scream until someone hears.”
She tried to pull away, her nightgown slipping down, her buttocks finally still, but Manoj’s grip held her close, his fingers digging into her asscheeks skin.
The image of her plump ass jiggling with every lick was burned into my mind, a loop I couldn’t stop, each ripple a reminder of how he was trying to break her.
Then he stood, his face flushed with a sick kind of triumph, and moved to the bed, sprawling across it like he owned every inch of our home.
He caught his dick, rubbing his cock—hard, ugly, a sight that made my stomach twist again, my young mind grappling with something so raw and wrong.
Manoj: - " Come here, Rekha. Get on your knees and suck my dick. It’s rock-hard for you, begging for that pretty mouth. You’ve teased me long enough—time to give me what I deserve.”
Mom: - “No, Manoj. I won’t do that. It’s a sin, a betrayal of my marriage, my faith, my family. I’m a mother, a wife, a woman who prays every day. I won’t!"
Manoj: - “Sin? Fuck your sin, Rekha. Your husband’s not here to save you, and I’m throbbing for you. Get over here and wrap your lips around my cock, or I’ll make you. You owe me this after letting me taste you.”
Mom: -
“I owe you nothing, Manoj. You’ve already taken too much, forcing yourself on me like this."
He didn’t budge, just stroked himself, his eyes locked on her with a predator’s focus.
Then he lunged, grabbing her arm and yanking her toward him. Mom stumbled, her face tight with fear and disgust, and he pushed her down, forcing her head toward his cock.
At first, it didn’t work—his dick pressed against her lips, but her mouth stayed shut, her jaw clenched like a steel trap, her hands pushing against his thighs.
Manoj: - "Open your fucking mouth, Rekha. You’re gonna take my cock, whether you like it or not. I’m done asking—suck it, or I’ll make it hurt.”
Mom: - “It won’t fit, Manoj. It’s too big, and I don’t want this. Stop, please—I’m begging you. This is wrong, it’s against my faith, my marriage. I can’t do this, I won’t.”
Manoj: - "Too big? You’ll make it fit, Rekha. I don’t care about your whining—I want your lips around my dick, and I’m not waiting. Open up, or I’ll pry it open myself.”
Mom: - “I can’t, Manoj. It’s choking me just thinking about it. You’re forcing me into something evil, something that spits on my husband, my son, I’m not that woman—stop this now.”
He gripped her hair, twisting it hard in his fist, and pushed with more force. Mom’s lips parted under the pressure, a small, pained sound escaping as his cock forced its way in, inch by inch.
Her eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking from the corners, her face crumpling like she was choking, her throat convulsing with soft, desperate gags.
She was bent over, her body hunched awkwardly, her naked body riding up as she tried to pull back, but Manoj’s hand was a vice, guiding her mouth down his dick with a slow, deliberate cruelty.
He moved her head, making her take it bit by bit—first the tip, slick and swollen, then deeper, each inch a violation she couldn’t stop.
Her cheeks hollowed, her breath came in sharp, panicked bursts, and her hands clawed weakly at the bed, fingers digging into the sheets.
Her face was a map of misery—eyes watering, brows knitted, lips stretched painfully around him, gagging softly with every push.
It was simply rocket science to explain how her mouth accommodated his massive & astronomical cock.
Her body shuddered, her shoulders trembled, and every movement screamed she hated this, wanted it to end, her mind clinging to her faith even as her body was trapped.
Manoj: - “How’s it taste, Rekha? My cock filling your mouth, sliding down your throat—bet it’s better than your husband’s, better than your fucking prayers. Tell me you love it, tell me it’s making you wet.”
Mom didn’t speak, couldn’t, her mouth too full, her throat too strained. She shook her head slightly, eyes still closed, tears streaking her cheeks, and gave a tiny nod—not agreement, but a reflex, the only response she could manage under his grip.
Her silence was her defiance, her way of holding onto herself even as he tried to break her.
I watched, my heart splintering, my young mind reeling from the sight. Then I saw something else—Mom’s pussy, exposed as it was, glistening with wetness that dripped down her thighs.
As a kid, I didn’t understand what it meant, but it looked like she was ready, like her body was in ecstasy, begging to be fucked.
I thought it meant she wanted this, but I was wrong—just a boy misreading her body’s involuntary reaction, not seeing the truth in her face: the disgust, the shame, the fight to stay whole.
Her dripping pussy wasn’t desire—it was betrayal, her body acting against her will, and it made my confusion twist tighter, my disgust mixing with a childish hope I’d misunderstood.
Honestly speaking, mom wanted to be fucked because her pussy was wet but she didn't want it.
Manoj kept her there, his hand like a clamp on her head, ensuring she couldn’t escape the sucking trap of the blowjob.
Her mouth slid up and down his cock, slow and forced, every inch a battle she was losing.
Her gags softened, but her body stayed tense, her fingers gripping the bed so hard the knuckles whitened, her shoulders shaking with effort.
She couldn’t break free, not with his grip so tight, not with his will overpowering her strength.
Manoj: - "Fuck, Rekha, your mouth’s so wet, so tight around my dick. You’re sucking it like a filthy slut, you know that? Bet your pussy’s dripping for my cock, begging to be fucked raw. You’re mine, every nasty inch of you.”
Mom: - “Stop, Manoj, please. I’m not that woman. You’re forcing this, wanting to fuck me, but you can’t take my faith, my love for my family.”
Manoj: - “Faith? Fuck your faith, Rekha. Your lips are on my cock, your cunt’s wet as hell, dripping like a whore’s. You can pray all you want, but your body’s screaming for me. I’m gonna fuck every hole you’ve got before I’m done.”
Mom: - “No, Manoj. I’m not yours. I belong to my husband, to God, to my son. You’re a devil, twisting my body against me, but my heart’s still pure. You’ll never have me, no matter what you do.”
Her voice was muffled, cracking under the strain, but it was still Mom—still Rekha, clinging to her prayers, her love for us, even as he tried to strip it all away.
I watched, my eye burning from the keyhole, my chest so tight I could barely breathe.
The scene was a nightmare: Mom’s bent form, her dripping pussy I misread as desire, her asshole, which I couldn't even see clearly due to her fat ass, Manoj’s cock sliding deeper into her mouth, her buttocks no longer jiggling but her body still violated.
I wanted to be a hero, to save her, but I was just Sanjay, a kid too small to fight a monster like him.
Mom—Rekha, my holy mom—was on her knees, her face twisted in pain, her lips stretched around Manoj’s cock.
Her tears caught the lamplight, and her hands clawed at the bed, desperate for something to hold onto.
Manoj’s hand was tangled in her hair, forcing her head down, his grunts loud and ugly, like he was claiming her.
I wanted to be a hero, to save her, but I was just Sanjay, a skinny kid with nothing but fear in my bones.
Manoj’s eyes roamed the room, hungry for something to make this worse. His eyes landed on the desk, on the framed photo of me, Mom, and Dad—smiling at a picnic years ago, when Dad was still alive in our lives, not just a shadow working himself to death.
The sight of it lit something evil in Manoj’s face.
Manoj - “Fuck, Rekha, look at that photo. Your happy little family, huh? I want you to spit on it. Right now, with my cock in your mouth. Spit that wet shit all over your husband and kid.”
Mom - “Mmm—no, Manoj, please don’t make me. That’s our love, our memory. It’s all I have left of them. Don’t twist it into something filthy.”
Manoj - “Don’t fucking whine, Rekha. You’re sucking my dick like a slut—spit on that picture, show me how much you care about them.”
Mom - “I can’t, Manoj. It’s sacred—my husband, my son. I’d rather choke than hurt them like that. Please, stop this.”
Her voice was muffled, strained around his cock, but her eyes were wide with horror, darting to the photo.
I felt my stomach drop—would Mom really do it? Spit on us? On our family photo?
On Dad’s tired smile, on my goofy grin from that day we laughed over watermelon?
My hands shook, my nails digging into my palms. She was my mom, pure and holy—she couldn’t desecrate our family. But then her head gave a tiny nod, so small I almost missed it, like she thought it’d end this nightmare.
Manoj - “Oh, you nodded, you filthy bitch. Knew you’d break. Keep sucking my cock, Rekha, and get ready to spit on that fucking photo.”
Mom - “Mmm—I only nodded to stop this, Manoj. I don’t want to. It’s my heart you’re asking me to ruin. Please, don’t make me.”
Manoj - “Shut up, Rekha. You’re gonna spit, and you’re gonna like it. My dick’s throbbing for you—do it, or I’ll shove it deeper.”
Mom - “God forgive me, Manoj. I just want this to end. I’m not that woman—I love my family, not you.”
Her nod was desperation, not agreement, but it still hit me like a punch. I couldn’t breathe, thinking she might actually do it, might stain the only piece of us we had left.
My young mind spun, torn between love for her and the fear she was slipping away.
Manoj let go of her hair for a second, grabbing the framed photo with a sneer. He held it up, tilting it so our faces—Dad’s warm eyes, my gap-toothed smile, Mom’s soft glow—stared back at her.
Her lips were still wrapped around his cock, her cheeks hollowed, her gags quieter but her body shaking.
He pushed the frame closer, his voice low and cruel.
To be continued......
Yesterday, 09:42 PM
I am done with this mindless BS...A totally fucked up BDSM fantasy...and not to forget the glaring loopholes in the writing... Please don't even bother to ask me to highlight if you cant see them for yourself while proof reading them...
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