Son helps neighbor to get mom

[UmaMaheswari]

wonderful story yaar .....am really feeling as gayu its wonderful wet always while reading story.....whiling reading your story i will feel as gayu in real gayu world ...each and ever seen its took natural and reality...situation , a to z suits very well i don't know writter writing this story as imagine or real incident .....but i feeling so relaxxxxxxxxxxxxx thanking for coming again i m only fan of your story once you complete your story dm to me i will communicate and i wanna show my wet to u really i like ur writing keep on going plz dont stopppppppppp looking forward as gayu(uma)

[rdevil0207]

Great story. waiting for the next update

[Pompykjha]

pls post tv/serial actress pics suitable for mom character. that will motivate me with ideas and character develoment

Hi I'm a hot mom looking for some excitement

[rdevil0207]

Any update

[Harini13]

The soft glow of the single kitchen bulb fell on Gayathri as she stood at the counter, her mind not on the potatoes she was peeling. It was past eleven, and the winter night was quiet. Balaji, her son, was in his room, likely on his laptop. Her husband, Venkat, was asleep. The house was still, but her thoughts were a gentle hum. She was preparing baingan ka bharta for tomorrow; Balaji loved it, and the winter vegetables were so fresh at the market. She wore a simple, faded saffron nightie, the thin cotton clinging softly to her form in the cool air. The fabric dbangd over her hips and the curve of her back, her structure visible in the dim light as she moved between the counter and the stove.

Her thoughts drifted. Balaji was so tired today. Working so hard in that IT company. He needs good food. And Venkat… he didn’t even notice I mended his shirt collar. Men. They live in their own worlds. A small smile touched her lips. But they are my world.

The quiet was broken by a soft knock on the back door. She turned, wiping her hands on a cloth. It was Elango from next door. He smiled, holding up a small packet. “Gayathri? Sorry to disturb so late. I got some murukku from the shop. Fresh. Thought Balaji might like it.”

“Oh, Elango! Come in, come in. It’s so cold outside,” she said, opening the door wider. A chill breeze followed him in, making her shiver slightly.

Elango stepped into the warm, spice-scented kitchen. His eyes, sharp and appreciative, took in the scene: the homely disorder, the simmering pot, and Gayathri in her saffron nightie, the light outlining her. He quickly looked away, placing the packet on the table. “And this,” he said, pulling out a small container, “is for you. Ginger bajji. My mother used to say it heats the body in winter.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Gayathri said, genuinely touched. She took the container, her fingers brushing his briefly. The warmth of the bajji seeped into her palms. So thoughtful. He remembers small things. Venkat would never think of ginger bajji. “Please, sit. Let me get you some tea.”

“No, no, don’t trouble yourself,” Elango protested, but he pulled out a chair and sat, his eyes following her as she moved to the stove. He watched the way the nightie shifted with her movements, the fabric whispering against her skin. Her back, the gentle swell of her hips, the dip of her waist—it was all so… natural, so womanly. A stark contrast to the silent, male-dominated emptiness of his own house since his wife passed. His gaze was not lecherous, but it was intensely observant, hungry for a warmth he no longer had.

Gayathri felt his eyes on her. It was a subtle pressure, a different kind of attention than she was used to. It made her conscious of her attire, of her bare feet on the cool floor. I should have worn a robe. But he’s like a brother, almost. A good man. She poured tea into a steel tumbler, her thoughts continuing. Look at him. All alone, raising that girl by himself. And still, he finds time to think of others. Bringing snacks for Balaji, bajji for me. He is a very caring person. The feeling blossomed in her chest, a warm gratitude mixed with a maternal pity.

She placed the tea before him, sitting across the table. “How is your daughter? Studies going well?”

“Yes, yes. She’s a bright girl,” Elango said, sipping the tea, his eyes now fixed on her face. “Sometimes too bright. Asks questions I don’t have answers for.”

Gayathri laughed softly, taking a ginger bajji. The flavour was perfect—spicy, crisp, comforting. “This is wonderful, Elango. Thank you.” She ate quietly for a moment, then said, “It must be very difficult for you. Managing everything.”

Elango sighed, a genuine sound of weariness. “Some days are harder than others. The house feels very big, very empty.” His eyes held hers for a second too long, and Gayathri felt a flutter of something—not alarm, but a deep, empathetic ache.

He is so lonely, she thought, looking down at her tea. All he does is work and care for his child. And he still has kindness left to give. What a strong, good heart. Her own heart softened further. “You must come for dinner properly one day. Not just snacks. A full meal. Bring your daughter.”

“I would like that very much,” Elango said, his voice sincere. He finished his tea and stood up. “I should let you rest. You have a full day tomorrow with the painters again.”

“Yes,” Gayathri said, rising with him. “Thank you again, Elango. For everything.”

He walked to the door, then paused. “Goodnight, Gayu.” He used the shortened name tentatively, a step closer.

“Goodnight, Elango,” she replied, smiling.

She closed the door behind him and leaned against it, the silence of the house returning. But it felt different now. The simple act of kindness, the hot bajji in her hand, the look of lonely gratitude in his eyes—it all wove together in her mind. He is such a caring person, she thought again, the conviction solidifying. A truly good, caring man.

In the darkness outside, Elango walked the short distance to his own gate. He could still see the image of her in the yellow kitchen light, the silhouette through the thin saffron cloth imprinted on his mind. The curve of her hip, the line of her spine. She was so beautiful, so warm, so unlike the cold silence that awaited him. He thought of her smile, her offer of dinner, the easy way she had accepted his presence. A plan began to form in his mind, not malicious, but deliberate. A way to be near that warmth, that kindness, more often. He unlocked his door, the image of Gayathri in her nightie the only thing that fought off the chill of his empty home.

Inside, Gayathri cleared the cups, her movements slower now. She put the murukku in Balaji’s tiffin box for tomorrow and placed the bajji container in the fridge. As she turned off the kitchen light and walked down the dark hall to her bedroom, her final thought of the night was of her neighbor. A smile played on her lips. In a world where her own husband and son were often absent in spirit, the attentive, caring nature of Elango felt like a small, unexpected solace. She slipped into bed beside the sleeping Venkat, her mind at ease, completely unaware of the nature of the thoughts that had followed Elango into the night, or of the careful, patient design that had just taken root in his mind. She felt only the comfort of being seen and considered, a feeling that had been dormant in her for a long, long time.

[Harini13]

The weekend arrived. On Sunday afternoon, Gayathri was in the kitchen, preparing coffee. She was wearing a comfortable cotton nightie. It was light blue and a bit short, ending mid-thigh. It was also a little tight. When she moved, the shape of her body was clear to see.

Her thoughts were simple. Balaji is so happy Elango uncle is coming. He brought such nice payasam last time. I should wear something nice too. But this is just at home. This nightie is okay.

The doorbell rang. It was Elango. He came in with a smile and a small box. "I brought some jeera payasam. My sister made it."

"Oh, Elango, you shouldn't bring things every time!" Gayu said, taking the box. She bent slightly to place it on the table. The neckline of her nightie gaped a little. Elango's eyes flickered down for a second before he looked away quickly. When she walked back to the kitchen, the soft fabric swayed against her hips.

Balaji came out of his room. "Uncle! Hello! Mom, the payasam smells amazing."

They all sat in the living room. Gayu served the sweet, warm payasam. It was delicious.

"This is so good, Elango," Gayu said. "Thank your sister for me."

"Sure, Gayu," Elango said, using her nickname easily now.

They talked for a while. Then Balaji had an idea. A plan was forming in his mind. He remembered the leggings Elango had gifted his mom last Diwali. She wore them only inside the house with long tops.

"Ma," Balaji said suddenly. "You know, you should learn to use a scooter."

Gayu looked surprised. "Scooter? Why? At my age?"

"Not for driving on big roads, Ma," Balaji said. "Just to go to the nearby market. When Dad is not free, and I am at office. You can go yourself. It will be easy for you."

Elango saw his chance. He looked at Gayu. "He is right, Gayu. It is very easy. I can teach you. In our colony lane, no traffic. Very safe."

Gayu felt hesitant. "I don't know... I might fall."

"You won't fall, Ma," Balaji insisted. "Uncle will be there. And you should wear comfortable clothes. Like those leggings you have. The ones Elango uncle gave you. They are perfect. You can move easily in them."

Gayu thought about it. The black leggings were very comfortable. And the matching top was a bit short, but it was fine for inside the house. She had never worn them outside her room.

Her thoughts were unsure. Scooter? Me? It sounds scary. But Balaji is right. It would be useful. And Elango is a good teacher. He is so helpful. Maybe I can try. The leggings are comfortable. No one will see in our lane.

"Okay," she said slowly. "I will try. But only if you are sure, Elango."

"I am very sure, Gayu," Elango said, his heart beating a little faster. "We can start next Sunday morning. The lane is empty then."

"Then it is decided!" Balaji said, smiling. His plan was working. He wanted his mom to wear those clothes. He wanted to see Elango's reaction. He wanted to see her.

"Okay," Gayu said. "Next Sunday."

After Elango left, Balaji went to his mother. "Ma, for learning, you should wear those black leggings and the top. They are perfect. You can move your legs freely."

Gayu nodded. "Yes, beta. You are right."

The next Sunday morning came. Venkat had gone to the bank for some work. Balaji was home.

Gayu went to her dressing room. She took out the black leggings and the white top. The top was short, ending just at her hips. She put them on and looked in the mirror.

The leggings were tight. They clung to her legs, showing their shape. They were a little thin. The white top was also tight. It showed the outline of her bra underneath. She could see the line of her panty at the back through the leggings.

Her thoughts were shy. Oh my. This is... very tight. Everything can be seen. But Balaji said it is for comfort. And it is just in our lane. Elango is a good man. He will not look. I am just being shy. It is for learning. I should do it.

She took a deep breath. She put on a simple necklace and combed her hair. She looked at herself one more time. She looked different. The clothes showed her figure—her full hips, her round back, her thick thighs. She felt nervous but also a little excited. She was doing something new.

She walked out of her room.

In the living room, Balaji and Elango were waiting. Elango was talking about the scooter's controls.

Then Gayu came in.

Both men stopped talking.

Balaji's eyes widened. His mother looked stunning. The white top and black leggings showed her beautiful body. She looked young and fresh. The leggings hugged her thick thighs and rounded back perfectly. The thin fabric left little to the imagination.

Elango's jaw almost dropped. He tried to keep his face normal, but his eyes were busy. They traveled from her face, down her neck, over the curve of her chest where the bra line was visible under the tight top, down to her narrow waist, and then to her hips. The leggings were tight. He could see the swell of her thighs, the shape of her backside. As she walked towards them, he could even see a faint, tempting line running between her legs at the back—the line of her panty.

He quickly looked away, clearing his throat. "You... you look ready, Gayu."

Gayu smiled, a little shy. "Is this okay? For learning?"

"Perfect," Elango said, his voice a bit thick. "Very comfortable. You can move easily."

Balaji smiled inside. His plan was perfect. He saw how Elango looked at her. He saw his mother's innocent smile. "Yes, Ma, you look great. Now go learn. Uncle is a good teacher."

"Thank you, beta," Gayu said. She felt happy. Her son was so supportive. Her neighbor was so kind. She was about to learn something new. She had no idea of the thoughts in their minds.

Elango stood up. "Shall we go, Gayu? The scooter is outside."

"Yes," Gayu said, walking ahead of him towards the door.

Elango followed, his eyes fixed on the gentle, rhythmic sway of her hips in the tight black leggings. The faint panty line was a secret path his eyes traced again and again. This was going to be a very interesting lesson.

[Harini13]

Gayu walked out of the front door first, the morning sun making her white top seem almost bright. Elango followed close behind, deliberately letting her go a few steps ahead.

His plan was simple. Walk behind her. Watch her.

She moved down the short driveway towards the parked scooter, her steps light. The black leggings were indeed tight. They clung to every curve, leaving nothing to guess. With each step she took, her hips moved. The soft, round flesh of her backside swayed gently from side to side. A rhythmic, tempting swing.

Elango’s eyes were locked on that swing. He didn’t even try to hide his gaze. He knew Gayu. She was innocent. She trusted him. She would never think he was staring. To her, he was just her helpful neighbor, her good friend, walking behind her to the scooter.

His mind was racing. Oh god. Look at that. Look at her. The way it moves. So big, so round. And the line…

There it was. As she walked, the tight fabric of the leggings pressed against her skin. Right down the middle of her backside, a clear, distinct line divided the two generous cheeks. It was the seam of her panty, pressed into her skin by the tight leggings. The ‘V’ shape of the panty cut right between them, defining each cheek perfectly. It was a secret path, a private detail now on full display for him.

He felt a familiar heat stirring in his pants. He adjusted his shirt, trying to act normal.

Gayu reached the scooter and turned around. “So, what first?” she asked, her face open and trusting.

Elango quickly pulled his eyes up to her face. He smiled, hoping it looked friendly and not hungry. “First, you have to get on. I will hold the scooter steady.”

“Okay,” she said. She looked at the scooter, a little unsure. She put one leg over the seat, swinging it over. The movement made her top ride up. For a second, the hem of her top lifted, revealing the smooth skin of her lower back and the top edge of her leggings, right where that ‘V’ panty line began.

Elango’s breath hitched. He quickly moved to hold the handlebars, standing in front of the scooter. This put him facing her as she sat down.

“Now, you sit comfortably,” he instructed, his voice a bit tight. “Put your feet on the footrest.”

Gayu shuffled on the seat, getting settled. The seat was small. As she adjusted, her thighs pressed against the sides of the scooter, making the muscles in her legs tighten visibly under the black fabric. Her back was straight, which pushed her chest forward. The white top strained a little.

Elango’s mind was screaming. She is right there. So close. I am standing between her legs. If I just lean forward… I could… No. Not yet. Be patient.

“Good,” he said. “Now, these are the controls. This is the brake.” He reached over, his hand covering hers on the brake lever. His fingers brushed her skin. It was a simple, instructional touch. But to him, it felt electric. Her skin was soft.

Gayu didn’t flinch. She just nodded, concentrating. “Brake. Okay.”

“This is the throttle,” he continued. He moved his hand to the right handlebar, again letting his fingers rest over hers. He let the touch linger a second longer than necessary. “You twist it slowly to go.”

“Twist to go,” Gayu repeated, her brow furrowed in focus. She was trying so hard to learn. She had no idea that the man teaching her was burning with desire, memorizing the feel of her hand under his.

Elango was thrilled. She is letting me touch her. She doesn’t suspect a thing. This is perfect. Today, I can touch her many times. I can stand close. I can smell her perfume.

He took a half-step closer. Now he was standing right between the scooter’s handlebars, almost touching her knees with his legs. He could smell the simple coconut oil in her hair and the faint scent of her soap.

“Now, to start, you need to put the key in and press this button.” He pointed near the ignition. “Can you try?”

Gayu leaned forward slightly to see. The movement made her body shift towards him. Her chest was now only inches from his arm. He could feel the warmth coming from her.

Her thoughts were simple, busy with the scooter. Focus, Gayu. Don’t be nervous. Elango is here. He is a good teacher. He is so patient. Just do what he says. Key. Button. Okay.

She found the key, turned it. The scooter’s dashboard lit up. “Good!” she said, smiling up at him.

Her smile was beautiful. Innocent and happy. It made Elango’s heart beat faster, mixing his lust with a strange affection.

“Very good, Gayu,” he said, smiling back. “Now, to actually move, you need to balance. I will hold the scooter from behind. You just twist the throttle a tiny bit, and we will walk with it. Just to feel the balance.”

“You will hold it?” she asked, a flicker of doubt in her eyes.

“I will be right behind you. I won’t let it fall. I promise.” His voice was gentle, reassuring.

He moved to the back of the scooter. This was what he really wanted. He put his hands on the metal luggage carrier at the back. But from here, his view was even better. He was directly behind her, looking at her back. Her slender back in the tight white top, leading down to the magnificent swell of her hips and that perfect, divided backside on the seat.

The panty line was so clear from here. The tight black fabric made a deep ‘V’ that disappeared right between her cheeks. He stared, his mouth going dry.

“Ready?” he called out, his voice slightly hoarse.

“Ready!” Gayu called back, her voice filled with determined excitement.

“Okay, Gayu. Gently twist the throttle.”

He heard the soft whirr of the electric scooter engaging. It lurched forward slightly. Elango pushed from behind, walking slowly. The scooter moved at a walking pace.

Gayu let out a little laugh. “It’s moving! I’m doing it!”

“You are! Just look ahead, not down!” Elango instructed.

He kept pushing, walking behind her. With every small bump on the driveway, her body would jiggle slightly on the seat. The beautiful, round flesh of her backside would bounce and sway. The deep panty line would shift and tighten with the movement.

Elango was in heaven and hell at the same time. She was so close. His mind was filled with images. What if my hands slip from the carrier? What if I ‘accidentally’ put them on her hips to steady her? Would she mind? She trusts me. She might think it was just to help.

The thought was intoxicating. He knew today was just the beginning. He had gotten her into these clothes. He had her on this scooter. He was touching her hands, standing close, watching every curve. Soon, maybe, he could touch more. All under the innocent, trusting eyes of Gayu, who thought she was just learning to ride a scooter from a kind and caring friend.

[Harini13]

The lesson continued in the quiet colony lane. Elango, from his position at the back, was guiding the scooter with gentle pushes. But he wanted more. He wanted to be closer.

“Gayu,” he called out, his voice carefully calm. “You are doing well with the balance. Now, to help you understand the turning, I should sit behind you. Just for a minute. Is that okay?”

Gayu, focused on the road ahead, didn’t see any harm. He was her teacher, her trusted friend. “Yes, okay, Elango. If it helps.”

Her trust was complete. Her thoughts were simple. He is so dedicated to teaching me properly. He wants me to learn the right way. I am lucky to have such a good friend.

Elango’s heart thumped. He stopped pushing and walked to the side of the scooter. He swung his leg over the seat, sitting behind her. The seat was small. His body pressed against her back. His thighs settled snugly against the outside of hers.

The contact was immediate and electric for him. He could feel the warmth and the soft, firm shape of her thigh through the thin leggings. He made sure his legs touched hers along their entire length.

“See?” he said, his mouth close to her ear. “Now I am here. You control the throttle and handle. I will just be here for balance. If you feel shaky, I am right behind you.”

His breath was warm. It brushed against her neck and shoulder. Gayu felt a slight, strange tingle at the sensation, but she brushed it off. He is just talking close so I can hear over the scooter. It’s nothing.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s try.”

She twisted the throttle. The scooter moved forward a little faster. Elango let his body move with hers. With every small movement, his thighs rubbed against hers. The friction was soft, persistent.

Gayu was concentrating, but a part of her mind noticed the contact. It felt… different. Not bad, just new. Her husband never sat this close on a scooter. But this was for learning. She told herself to ignore it and focus on the road.

Elango, however, was drowning in sensation. The feel of her body against his was driving him wild. He could smell the shampoo in her hair. He could feel every shift of her hips. His own body was reacting. He felt himself getting hard.

He had to be careful. He adjusted his position slightly, trying to hide his growing arousal. But in doing so, he leaned forward a bit more. His chest pressed against her back.

As the scooter went over a tiny uneven patch on the road, it jolted. Gayu gasped slightly. Elango’s right hand, which had been resting on his own thigh, flew up instinctively to steady himself. His palm landed flat on her lower back, just above the waistband of her leggings.

“Sorry, sorry!” he said quickly, but he didn’t remove his hand immediately. He let it rest there for a few seconds, feeling the curve of her spine. “Just a bump. You’re doing great.”

His hand was large and warm. Gayu felt the heat seep through her top. It was a firm, steadying touch. Again, a flicker of something passed through her—a mix of reassurance and that strange new feeling. He is just making sure I don’t fall, she reasoned.

“It’s okay,” she said softly.

He finally moved his hand, placing it back on his thigh. But now, he was even more aroused. The simple touch had fueled him.

They did a slow circle in the lane. As Gayu gained a little confidence, she sped up slightly. The wind blew against them. Every time the scooter vibrated or hit a minor imperfection, her body moved.

And when her body moved, her chest moved.

Elango, sitting behind her, had a perfect view. Over her shoulder, he could see the front of her white top. With every bounce of the scooter, the soft, full curves of her breasts jiggled visibly under the tight fabric. The movement was rhythmic, hypnotic. He could see the outline of her bra, the gentle swell rising and falling with her breathing and the scooter's motion.

His eyes were glued to the sight. His arousal was now pressing painfully against his pants. He was lost in the view—the bouncing of her breasts, the feel of her thighs against his, the scent of her skin.

In a moment of boldness, overcome by lust, he shifted on the seat. As the scooter swayed on a turn, he let his body press more firmly against her. The seam at the back of his trousers, the rough line, pressed directly into the cleft of her backside, right over that tempting panty line he had been staring at all morning.

The pressure was deliberate. He let the seam ride along the divide of her ass crack for a second, applying a firm, linear pressure through the thin leggings.

Gayu felt a distinct, firm line press into her from behind. It was sudden and intimate. Her mind, which had been pushing away all the little odd feelings, now sent a clear signal. What was that?

But before she could fully process it, Elango shifted again, pulling back slightly. “Good turn, Gayu!” he said, his voice a little too loud, a little too enthusiastic. “You are learning so fast!”

His compliment distracted her. The strange pressure was gone. Maybe it was just the scooter’s seat, or his belt buckle? She wasn’t sure. She decided it must have been an accident. Elango was a good man. He wouldn’t do something like that on purpose.

She pushed the thought away. “Really? You think so?” she asked, a smile returning to her voice.

“I know so,” Elango said, his own smile predatory and hidden behind her head. His eyes dropped again to the captivating bounce of her breasts as they continued their slow drive. His heart was racing with victory and desire. He had touched her more intimately than she realized. He had felt her. And she hadn’t stopped him.

The lesson was proving to be far more successful than he had ever dreamed.

[rdevil0207]

waiting for the next part.