13-04-2025, 11:13 PM
Nice going keep it up
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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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13-04-2025, 11:23 PM
(13-04-2025, 09:42 PM)sexypreeti Wrote: 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... If you are done with this BS, then goodbye! No one is forcing you to like it. ☺️☺️ There are millions of stories in this site. Choose others that suits your fantasies. Good luck! 
14-04-2025, 12:45 AM
(13-04-2025, 11:23 PM)Rajeev Gupta Wrote: If you are done with this BS, then goodbye! No one is forcing you to like it. ☺️☺️ Yes there are "millions of other stories" which are somewhere close to reality...yours is BILLIONS of light years away...not one cent close to reality... And you don't need to tell me what to do...FYI... 
15-04-2025, 12:43 AM
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. A still a kid, I didn't understand what was going on. Manoj earlier told me that he was going to give my mom a massage. But what was going on in that room was not massage. Even as a kid, I knew what massage was. But why was my mom sucking the penis of another man? Was this really massage? He pushed the frame closer, his voice low and cruel. Manoj - “Come on, you fucking slut. Spit on this picture, bitch. Show me how you disrespect your husband, your kid, with my cock in your mouth.” Mom - “Mmm—no, Manoj, I won’t. It’s too much—my family’s everything. I can’t hurt them, not even for you.” Manoj - “Don’t fucking lie to me, Rekha. You nodded, you whore. Spit on it now, or I’ll make you choke till you’re blue. Do it!” Mom - “Please, Manoj, I’m begging. I can’t do that to them. My heart’s with my son, my husband. Don’t force me.” Her eyes locked on the photo, and I saw her hesitate, her tears pooling. She shook her head slightly, her mouth full, her defiance a quiet flame. During that time as a kid, I wondered why Manoj was talking crudely to my mom. Was this the type of massage he was talking about? But Manoj’s grip tightened on the frame, his other hand back in her hair, shoving her down harder. Manoj - “You’re pissing me off, Rekha. Spit on that fucking photo, or I’ll ram my cock so deep you’ll beg for mercy. Do it, slut!” Mom - “Mmm—I can’t, but… oh, God, I just want this over. I’m not yours, Manoj. I’m theirs.” Manoj - “Rekha. Spit now, or I’ll make you regret it. Your family’s nothing—prove it!” Mom - “No, they’re everything. I… I’ll do it to stop this, but my love stays pure. Forgive me, Sanjay, Amit, my husband.” Her sob was trapped, her body trembling. Then, her lips parted just enough, and a dribble of spit hit the glass, smearing across Dad’s face, then mine. Can you believe it? My mom spitting Manoj's dirty cock's filth on our family photo. It was a small, wet mark, but it felt like a dagger. My heart stopped—Mom had spat on us, on our family, on her marriage. The spit glistened, disrespectful, a stain on everything I believed about her. I wanted to scream, to tell her I knew she didn’t mean it, but I was frozen, my eyes burning. Manoj - “Fuck yeah, Rekha. You spat on them like a nasty bitch. Look at that mess—your family’s trash now, huh?” Mom - “No, Manoj. They’re still my world. I only did it to end this. You can’t touch my love for them.” Manoj - “Love? You’re a lying slut. That spit says you’re mine. You desecrated them for my cock.” Mom - “I’m not yours, Manoj. My heart’s with my husband, my son, my God. You forced this, but I’m still me.” Manoj - “Keep telling yourself that, bitch. Your mouth’s wet with my dick, and you spat on your family. You’re fucked.” Mom - “I’m not fucked, Manoj. You can’t break my faith, my love. I did it to survive, not because I wanted to.” Her voice was soft, innocent, a prayer against his venom. The photo sat there, smeared, and I couldn’t look away from it, from the spit that felt like a betrayal. As a kid, I kept asking myself what the hell did the words "fuck", "slut", "cock", "bitch" & "pussy" mean. But Mom’s eyes were steady, even through her tears—she was fighting, holding onto us, and I was too young to see it clearly. She sagged slightly, a flicker of relief crossing her face, like she thought this might stop the blowjob. Her gags had softened, her body less tense, but the guilt in her eyes was heavy. She didn’t know I was watching, didn’t know how that spit made me question her, made my love for her twist with confusion. Manoj tossed the frame back on the desk, careless, like it was nothing. He yanked her off his cock, a wet pop cutting the air as she gasped, her lips swollen, her cheeks streaked. She looked up at him, wary, her hands clutching the bed. He sprawled back, stroking his dick, his eyes glinting with a darker hunger. Manoj - “Enough of your mouth, Rekha. Get up here and ride my cock. I want that pussy wrapped around me, slut.” Mom - “No, Manoj, please, I can’t. It’s a sin, a betrayal of my husband, my son. I’m begging you, stop this.” Manoj - “Don’t fucking beg, Rekha. Your pussy’s dripping—you want my dick. Climb on, or I’ll make you.” Mom - “I don’t want it, Manoj. My body’s not me—it’s my faith, my family that matter. Please, no more.” Manoj - “Your faith? Fuck that. You spat on your family, whore. Riding my cock’s nothing after that.” Mom - “I didn’t mean it, Manoj. I only did it to end your cruelty. I’m still my husband’s, my son’s.” Her voice shook, innocent and desperate. She glanced at the photo, the spit still wet, and her face crumpled. I could see her mind turning—she’d crossed a line, even if forced. I wondered why he told my mom to ride him....what did he actually mean? But I began to understand this was not massage. Her pussy was wet, dripping down her thighs, and I didn’t understand it then, but she was thirsty, not for him but for something her body craved, something her faith told her to bury. Manoj - “Look at that photo, Rekha. You already fucked them over. Your cunt’s begging for my cock—ride me.” Mom - “No, Manoj. That photo’s my heart. I didn’t fuck them—I love them. I can’t do this.” Manoj - “Bullshit, slut. You’re wet as hell. You’ve sinned already—spitting on your kid and husband. Ride my dick, or I’ll force it in.” Mom - “Please, Manoj, I’m scared. My body’s not my heart. I’m still theirs, not yours.” Manoj - “Your heart’s bullshit, Rekha. Your pussy’s honest—it’s screaming for me. Get on my cock now.” Mom - “I see the photo, Manoj. My family—they’re still mine. I can’t betray them more than I have.” Her eyes lingered on the frame, the spit a silent wound. She knew Manoj was right in one cruel way—she’d been pushed so far, her body reacting against her will. Her innocence was in her trembling pleas, but her thirst was real, a quiet ache she despised herself for. She sighed, broken, her hands shaking. Then, to my horror, she moved. She reached for the photo, gentle, like she was saying sorry. She picked it up, cradling it, then set it face-down on the desk, away from Manoj’s gaze, away from this sin. My jaw dropped—she was shielding us, maybe, but she was climbing onto the bed, her knees trembling as she straddled him. Her hand shook as she grabbed his cock, stroking it, her face tight with disgust but her body moving like it had its own will. Her big boobs swayed, heavy, her nipples hard despite her shame. I didn't understand why my mom was holding another man's thing that he uses to urinate. Her fat ass, plump and round, jiggled as she positioned herself, a sight that seared into my mind, confusing my love for her with something raw. Manoj - “Fuck, Rekha, look at you. Stroking my cock like a nasty slut. Your tits are bouncing, that fat ass begging to me.” Mom - “No, Manoj. I’m not that woman. I’m doing this to stop you, to protect what’s left of me.” Manoj - “Protect? You’re a whore, Rekha. Look at those boobs, that ass—built to take my dick. Keep stroking.” Mom - “I hate this, Manoj. My heart’s with my family. I’m not yours, no matter what you say.” Manoj - “Keep lying, bitch. Your hand’s on my cock, your pussy’s wet. You’re gonna fuck me good.” Mom - “I’m not lying, Manoj. I’m a mother, a wife. This is wrong—I don’t want it.” Her voice was soft, innocent, but her hand moved, reluctant and slow. She felt dirty—I saw it in her eyes, clouded with shame. As a kid, even though I didn't understand what was going on, I knew my mom was in total shame. Her boobs were massive, spilling over, and her ass was so fat it seemed to dominate the space, each curve a betrayal she couldn’t control. ![[Image: images.jpg]](https://i.postimg.cc/nzpb9tM3/images.jpg) I was shocked, my heart breaking, but I couldn’t turn away, couldn’t stop hoping she’d fight. Manoj - “Ride me, Rekha. Get that pussy on my cock. Your tits, your ass—ooh woman, you’re made for this.” Mom - “Please, Manoj, I can’t. I’m scared—it’s too much. My family’s still in my heart. I can't betray my husband" Manoj - “Fuck your heart, slut. Slide my dick in your cunt. You’re dripping—do it now.” Mom - “I don’t want to, Manoj. I’m theirs, not yours. Please, don’t make me feel this.” Her plea was a whisper, but she shifted, guiding his cock toward her pussy. Her face was fear and disgust, but her body was wet, glistening. She was thirsty, I learned later, not for him but for something her faith couldn’t silence. The tip brushed her pussy lips, and she froze, her breath catching. My innocent eyes were being entertained by something unholy but I didn't know. Manoj - “Don’t stop, Rekha. Push that pussy down. Your cunt’s tight—gonna feel so good on my cock.” Mom - “It won’t fit, Manoj. It’s too big—it hurts already. I can’t do this, it’s wrong.” Manoj - “Too big? You’ll make it fit, slut. I don’t care if it hurts—slide my dick in now.” Mom - “No, Manoj—it’s choking me just thinking about it. I’m not that woman. Please, stop.” ![[Image: images-1.jpg]](https://i.postimg.cc/tCfKt6YZ/images-1.jpg) Her voice cracked, but Manoj grabbed her hip, pulling her down. The struggle was slow, painful. Her pussy lips parted, stretching around the tip, and she gasped, her body tensing. She tried to lift up, to escape, but his grip held her. Her thighs shook, her fat ass quivering as she fought. The tip pressed harder, her wetness easing it despite her resistance. Her pussy clenched, but Manoj pushed up, and she whimpered, her hands on his chest for balance. Half of his dick finally got into her tight pussy. Manoj - “Fuck, Rekha, take it. Your pussy’s opening up—keep going, you filthy bitch.” Mom - “It hurts, Manoj! It’s too much—I can’t. I’m not yours, I’m my family’s.” Manoj - “Keep whining, slut. Your cunt’s wet for me. Push down—let my cock fill you.” Mom - “No, Manoj—I hate this. It’s wrong, it’s a sin. God forgive me, please.” Her boobs bounced with her movements, her nipples tight, her ass jiggling with every shift. The tip was deep inside, her face twisted with pain. She shook her head, tears streaming, but Manoj’s hand guided her, relentless. Her pussy stretched, agonizingly slow, and I watched, frozen, as Mom lost her fight, inch by inch. Manoj - “That’s it, Rekha. My cock’s in your pussy now. Scream all you want—you’re mine.” Mom - “Aaaahhh I’m not yours! It hurts—it’s tearing me. I’m my husband’s, my son’s—always!” Her scream ripped through the room, raw and desperate, as the tip slipped fully inside, her pussy stretched around it. She froze, shuddering, her face crumpling with shame and pain. I was shocked—Mom, my holy mom, screaming, violated, her pussy wet and betraying her. I asked myself what type of massage makes women scream like this. I thought she’d become someone else, but I was starting to see she was thirsty—not for Manoj, but for something her body demanded, something he twisted into his cruelty. I knew this was not massage, it was something wrong. Manoj - “Fuck, Rekha, you’re tight. Keep going, slut—ride my cock like the whore you are.” Mom - “No, Manoj—I hate you. My heart’s pure, even if you force my body. Forgive me, God.” Her sob was quiet, but her body stayed, the tip inside, a line she couldn’t uncross. I watched, my world shattering, but her eyes were still Mom’s—innocent, fighting, even as Manoj tried to break her. To be continued.... Give me your thoughts guys.....
15-04-2025, 06:20 AM
(This post was last modified: 15-04-2025, 06:21 AM by Givemeextra. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Wow Wow Wow.
She is fighting mentally even though her body is betraying her physically. Will she break soon OR will she emerge victorious in war having lost few battles...Waiting for next update already.
15-04-2025, 09:38 AM
Make enough Fuck her to be a randi and monoj take her to a trip without husband and son and after the trip she betrayed with family
16-04-2025, 12:51 AM
The room was a haze of shadows and sounds I couldn’t unhear—Mom’s soft gasps, Manoj’s grunts, the creak of the bed.
Me with my innocent mind, was still crouched by the door, my eye burning from the keyhole, my heart a knot of fear and confusion. My beautiful but pious Mom—Rekha—was straddling Manoj, her fat ass trembling as she hovered over his cock, the tip just inside her dripping pussy. Her big boobs swayed, nipples hard, and her face was tight with pain, but her thighs were slick, betraying her. I didn’t understand why her body looked ready when her eyes screamed no. M mom's body was in need of sex but her mind wasn't letting her. Manoj’s hands gripped her hips, pulling her down, and I wanted to burst in, to save her, but I was just Sanjay, a kid too small to fight. Her pussy stretched around the tip, and she whimpered, her hands shaking. Manoj’s cock was massive—thick, veined, glistening with her wetness, a monster forcing its way deeper. I think if mom was given an option to choose between dad's cock and Manoj's, I am pretty sure she could've chosen Manoj's rock hard cock. It pushed past the tip now, inching into her, mom's lips parting wider with every slow thrust. Her breath hitched, sharp and desperate. Manoj - “Fuck, Rekha, your pussy’s tight. Take my cock deeper, slut—let it fill you up.” Mom - “I can’t, Manoj—it’s too big, it hurts. Please, I can’t take any more.” Manoj - “Don’t fucking whine, Rekha. You’re wet as hell—push down, take my dick all the way.” Mom - “No, Manoj—it’s stretching me too much. I’m trying, but it’s… it’s too much.” Her voice was soft, pleading, no longer heavy with prayers but raw with fear. She placed her hands on his chest, fingers digging into his skin for support, her boobs bouncing slightly as she steadied herself. Her fat ass quivered, and then, to my shock, she started moving—not just from his pulling, but on her own, a slow roll of her hips. Her pussy slid down another inch, swallowing more of his cock, and her breath caught, a mix of pain and something else, something I couldn’t name as a kid. Was it pleasure? Her eyes fluttered, and her movements grew smoother, like her body was taking over. Manoj - “Holy shit, Rekha, you’re riding me now? Fuck, you’re moving that pussy on your own, you slut.” Mom - “No, Manoj—I’m not… I’m just trying to make it stop hurting. It’s not what you think.” Manoj - “Bullshit, you’re loving my cock. Keep going, bitch—fuck me like you mean it.” Mom - “I don’t mean it, Manoj. I’m… I’m just doing what I have to. Please, don’t say that.” Her voice cracked, hiding the truth I couldn’t see then—that her body was responding, chasing a pleasure she didn’t want to feel. I was innocent, my mind still clinging to Manoj’s lie from earlier that day. He’d smirked at me, saying he was coming over to give Mom a “massage” to help her relax. I’d nodded, thinking it was like when Dad rubbed her shoulders after a long day. But this—this was no massage. Mom’s pussy sliding down his cock, her ass jiggling, her moans starting to slip out—it was a sin, I realized, my young heart twisting. Manoj wasn’t helping her; he was doing something sinful to her, and I’d been too naive to see it coming. But still I don't understand what this sinful thing is Her hips moved faster now, his cock sinking deeper, halfway in, thick and relentless. Her hands pressed harder on his chest, her nails biting into him. Her moans grew louder, soft but undeniable, and I froze, my innocence crumbling. She was sinning, betraying Dad, betraying me, even if Manoj was forcing her. But I was not sure if she was. Something just felt off about it. Manoj - “Fuck, Rekha, listen to you moaning. My cock’s big, isn’t it? Tell me how it feels, slut.” Mom - “It’s… it’s big, Manoj, too big. I can’t help it—it’s just… it’s happening.” Manoj - “Can’t believe you’re turning into this, Rekha. Moaning like a whore—your pussy’s loving my dick. While your son is sleeping next room” Mom - “No, Manoj—I’m not changing. It’s just my body… I don’t want this, I swear.” Her voice was desperate, but her hips kept moving, her pussy now elastic, stretching to take more of him. She was tuning in, I saw it—her face softening, her moans less pained, more rhythmic, as Manoj fucked her deeper. His cock slid in and out, slick with her wetness, and her fat ass jiggled with every thrust, a hypnotic ripple that made my stomach churn. My queen mom was being fucked by a king. She wasn’t fighting as hard, and I didn’t understand why but the more she fought, the more she was finding herself riding. Manoj reached up, grabbing her hair, twisting it in his fist as she rode him, pulling her head back slightly. Her boobs bounced wildly, her nipples tight and swollen. Manoj - “Ride me harder, Rekha. Your hair’s mine, your pussy’s mine—fuck my cock like a slut.” Mom - “Please, Manoj, don’t pull so hard. I’m trying… I don’t want to do this.” Manoj - “Trying? You’re fucking me good, bitch. Keep that pussy moving—take every inch.” Mom - “I… I can’t stop it, Manoj. It’s too much, but I don’t mean it, I don’t.” Her ass was a sight I couldn’t escape—fat, round, jiggling like it had a life of its own, her pussy so elastic now it swallowed his cock with less resistance. She forgot herself for a moment, her hips grinding faster, a soft moan slipping out, almost eager. My heart sank—she was enjoying it, wasn’t she? Manoj - “Fuck, Rekha, slow down—you’re riding me like a whore. You’re loving this cock, aren’t you?” Mom - “No, Manoj—please, go slower. I’m… I’m losing control, but I don’t want to.” Manoj - “Slower? You’re going way faster than me, slut. Your pussy’s begging for my dick.” Mom - “I don’t mean to, Manoj. It’s just… it’s happening. I can’t help it.” Her voice was soft, almost lost, as she tried to pull back, but her body didn’t listen. How was my mom lying that she doesn't want it but she was willingly riding him? She was doing other things now, things that burned into my mind—her fingers curling on his chest, her back arching to push her boobs forward, her thighs squeezing him like she was chasing something. Manoj’s hands moved to her boobs, cupping them roughly, his thumbs flicking her nipples, pinching them until she gasped. Manoj - “Look at these tits, Rekha. So fucking big—your nipples are hard as hell. You love this, don’t you?” Mom - “No, Manoj—don’t touch me like that. It’s… it’s too much, please stop.” Manoj - “Stop? Your boobs are bouncing for me, slut. I’m gonna play with these nipples all night.” Mom - “I can’t help it, Manoj. My body’s… it’s not me. I don’t want this.” My innocent mind was gone now, replaced by a cold truth—this was wrong, so wrong. Mom wasn’t just being forced; she was moving with him, moaning, her pussy wet and eager. Manoj’s lie about a massage had tricked me, but the truth was clear: this was sex, a sin, a betrayal of Dad. I wanted to scream, to make it stop, but I was trapped, watching my mom unravel. Manoj’s grin was pure venom as he fucked her deeper, his cock nearly fully inside now. He let go of her boobs, grabbing her hips again, then leaned up, his voice a cruel whisper. Manoj - “Rekha, tell your husband Amit he’s got a slut for a wife. Say you’re a whore who betrayed him.” Mom - “No, Manoj—I won’t say that. Amit’s my love, my life. I can’t hurt him like that.” Manoj - “Fucking say it, bitch, or I’ll make you scream it. You’re riding my cock—tell Amit you’re a slut.” Mom - “Please, Manoj, don’t make me. I’m not that woman—I’m still his, always.” Manoj - “Apologize to Amit for cheating, Rekha. Say you’re sorry for fucking me, you whore.” Mom - “I won’t, Manoj. I didn’t choose this—you’re forcing me. I won’t betray him more.” His hand shot to her hair again, yanking hard, and he thrust up brutally, his cock slamming deep into her pussy. She cried out, her body shuddering, and her resistance cracked under the pain and pleasure. Mom - “I’m sorry, Amit—I’m so sorry for this. I didn’t mean to… I’m a slut, a whore. Forgive me.” Manoj - “Fuck yeah, Rekha—that’s it. You’re my slut now, not his. Keep riding, bitch.” Mom - “No, Manoj—I’m still Amit’s. I only said it because you made me. I hate you.” Her voice broke, tears streaming, but her hips didn’t stop, her pussy taking him fully now. Manoj laughed, a sick triumph, and pulled out suddenly, his cock slick and throbbing. He slapped her thigh, hard. Manoj - “Turn around, Rekha. Get in doggystyle—I’m gonna fuck that pussy raw.” Mom - “Okay, Manoj… I’ll do it. Just… just don’t hurt me more.” I was shocked—she obeyed, no fight left, flipping onto her hands and knees like she was giving in. Was she wanting this now? Her fat ass was up, jiggling slightly, her pussy glistening and open. I couldn’t believe it—Mom wasn’t complaining, wasn’t pleading. It was like she was ready to be fucked, and my heart shattered, thinking she’d chosen this. Manoj positioned himself behind her, his hand cracking down on her ass, leaving a red mark. Her cheeks rippled, and she gasped, her face a mix of shock and something else—pleasure, I realized, my stomach twisting. Manoj - “Fuck, Rekha, this ass is perfect—fat, jiggly, begging for my cock. I’m gonna fuck your pussy so hard.” Mom - “Manoj, please… not so rough. Just… just do it, but don’t talk like that.” Manoj - “Rough? You love it, slut. Look at this ass shaking—gonna shove my dick in deep.” Mom - “I don’t love it, Manoj. I’m just… I’m doing what you want. Please, be gentle.” He guided his cock to her pussy, the tip brushing her lips, then thrust in hard, no warning. Her pussy swallowed him, elastic and slick, and she moaned, loud and raw, her ass jiggling with every slam. Manoj fucked her relentlessly, his hands gripping her hips, slapping her ass again, the sound echoing. Her face was what broke me—eyes half-closed, lips parted, moans spilling out like she was lost in it. Pleasure, clear as day, even if she didn’t want it. Her pussy was wetter now, her body rocking back to meet his thrusts, and I couldn’t deny it—she was tuning in, her body betraying her heart. Manoj - “Fuck, Rekha, your pussy’s gripping my cock. You’re loving this doggystyle, aren’t you, whore?” Mom - “No, Manoj… I’m not. It’s just… it feels… I can’t stop it. Please, slow down.” Manoj - “Slow down? Your ass is bouncing like crazy—keep fucking me back, slut.” Mom - “I’m trying not to, Manoj. My body’s… it’s not me. I don’t want this.” But she did, in some way—her moans were louder, her pussy clenching him, her ass a blur of motion. She was still Mom, but she was something else too, someone I didn’t know, and it crushed me, my innocence gone, replaced by the truth of her sin.
16-04-2025, 07:11 AM
Hi Buddy,
You definitely are not new to writing sex stories... At least describe the sex scenes and conversations realistically to bring your 200% story somewhere closer to reality... You have tremendous scope to make this story a big success... 
16-04-2025, 08:43 AM
awesomee, go on make it erotic novel... Sanjay needs brother or sister
16-04-2025, 11:09 AM
Hi the story is ok. can't feel reality as your earlier story my mom and vikram. My request is not to stop inbetween any stories. Is it possible to continue that story simultaneously.
16-04-2025, 09:31 PM
superb update...
looking for more
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