Incest Mom tricked by Bully (Mask of Desire)

[Steel]

The next morning burst into a frenzy of color and chaos, the colony streets glowing with laughter, drums, and the sharp sting of gulal (coloured powder).

Madhuri’s bedroom was a quiet sanctuary in contrast, her white kurti hugged her beneath loose palazzo pants as she brushed her hair.

Her body still buzzed from Ishaan’s tease last night, his bold touch lingering like a brand on her skin.

Ramesh bustled in, his festive kurta, his grin wide and eager. 

Ramesh : "Are you ready for Holi, Honey?"

Madhuri : “Uhh.. I’m not coming out,” she murmured, her voice soft, uninterested, her juicy lips parting, her brown eyes dull.

Abhi bounded in, restless, his tee already streaked with blue gulal.

Abhi : “Mom, Dad, come on, the whole colony’s celebrating!” His voice was sharp, insistent, pushing her.

Madhuri : “I’m… not in the mood, sweetie, you carry on,” she sighed, playing the part, her mind on Ishaan, her flame.

The doorbell rang, and her pulse spiked. Ishaan swaggered in, his white tee already dusted red. His deep eyes glinted with a fresh, wicked spark, predatory, like a hunter in festive skin.



Ishaan : “Aunty, why aren't you ready yet? Don't make me splash you with my colors on the couch,” he said, his voice dripping with raw passion.

Her nipples stiffened, understanding the hidden meaning behind it, shame crashing as her volcano roared. 

Madhuri : “Holi? with me?” she stammered, feigning innocence.

Ishaan : “Yeah, aunty, you gotta spend some time with the family, it can be fun,” he grinned, his tone intense.

Ramesh seconded, blind to the undercurrent, thrilled. 

Ramesh : “Glad to have you Ishaan, You're bringing us together again!” he chuckled, his voice rough but warm.

Madhuri : “Alright, let's head out then,” she murmured, playing along, her kurti pristine.

[Steel]

All four arrived at the bustling colony square, where vibrant crowds joyfully hurled colored powders at one another, reveling in the spirited chaos of Holi. Laughter and music filled the air as neighbors danced, their clothes stained with bright hues of color.

Ramesh : “Let’s start, Madhuri!” he grabbed a handful of pink gulal, smearing it across her cheeks and neck, his touch soft, joyful. 

Her heart sank looking at how happy he is, she forced a smile, dipping her hands in blue powder, streaking his face. His laugh was loud, pure, and her guilt spiked.

Ramesh : “Enjoy, baby, I’ll go mingle!” he beamed, darting out to join the crowd, leaving her with Ishaan. Her breath caught, spotting him standing close to her.

The colony roared outside, crowds, colors, chaos, and Ishaan stepped closer

Ishaan : “Aunty, white’s too pure on you. I’m gonna paint you like a canvas I’d lick clean,” he growled, his voice raw, oozing fresh passion.

He “accidentally” tipped the bucket, yellow colored water splashing her kurti, soaking her chest. Her boobs were outlined, the wet fabric took no time to get see-through.

Madhuri : “Ishaan… what’s this?” she gasped, feigning shock.

Ishaan : “Oops, aunty, it slipped. But damn, you’re a vision, wet and wild, a sin I’d drown in,” he purred, his eyes devouring her.

Her breath hitched, liking the act, wanting him closer. The crowd surged, uncles, aunties, kids, pushing them together.

His chest slammed into her back, hot and hard while his bulge rubbed her ass “unavoidably,” slow and sensual. 

Madhuri : "Wait, He’s hard already?", she thought and her knees quaked. 

Ishaan : “Careful, aunty, I don’t wanna lose you in this mess,” he growled, his voice raw, possessive, his hands “steadying” her waist, firm and commanding.

Abhi tossed colors nearby, laughing clueless of the storm.

Uncles leered, paunchy and gulal-smeared. Uncle Sharma muttered to others, “Someone’s looking hotter than the sun,” loud enough for Madhuri to hear, their eyes on her wet kurti.

Madhuri : “Ishaan… people are watching,” she murmured, acting, hiding her thrill, her juicy lips trembling, kurti soaked.

Ishaan : “Let ‘em watch, aunty, they know you’re a queen in this chaos,” he purred, his bulge grinding harder, raw and intense.

Madhuri’s chest heaved, her wet kurti clinging like a second skin, her nipples betraying her through the thin fabric. Ishaan’s hands lingered on her waist, his fingers brushing just above her palazzo’s waistband, teasing the soft skin there.

[Steel]

Her body screamed for him, but her mind clung to the fraying thread of restraint. 

Madhuri : “Ishaan.. maybe we should join the others,” she said, her voice shaky, a weak attempt to pull back from the edge.

“Join others?” He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear, voice a low growl. “Aunty, you’re the only festival I’m celebrating today.” His fingers tightened, possessive, sending a jolt straight to her core.

Madhuri : “What?” she gasped, startled.

The crowd pressed in again, bodies bumping, colors flying. A stranger’s abrupt nudge felt nearly intentional, yanking her kurti top by “accident,” tearing the back.

She raised her arm, ready to snap furiously, but an uncle, pot-bellied and chuckling, approached from behind, “Madhuri, you’re stealing the show!” he slurred, tossing green powder that caught in her chest.

She forced a smile, her anger surging, but Ishaan’s hand reached her back, gripping the fabric, anchoring her, claiming her.

Madhuri : "Thanks.. Ishaan," she said, "There are some creeps in the crowd, it felt intentional," her words sharp with anger but softened by deference.

Little did she know it was all planned beforehand by Ishaan. 

Ishaan : “Ignore them,” he murmured, his voice a dark promise. “They don’t get to touch what’s mine,” pulling the fabric tight, her body caught in his commanding grip.

Her breath hitched, "Mine?" She turned her neck to face him, but his bold, hungry stare gave nothing away. 

Madhuri : “Ishaan, you can’t… say things like that,” she whispered, her voice trembling, her eyes struggling to meet his, her crave screaming for him to push further.

[Steel]

Ishaan : “Oh, can’t I?” He smirked, leaning in, covering the torn top, his lips inches from hers, the crowd’s chaos covering them from all sides. 

His hand slid lower, grazing the curve of her ass, a fleeting touch that set her ablaze. 

Ishaan : “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop.”

She stood silently, trying not to react, but she knew she’s losing it. Abhi darted through the crowd, his face streaked with colors, his laughter forced. 

Abhi : “Mom, let’s play holi! You’re missing all the fun!” he called, his voice cracking, eyes flicking between her and Ishaan.

Releasing his grip, Ishaan spread turquoise over the tear, his touch deliberately slow on her skin as an excuse to cover the torn damage. “Good to go,” he whispered softly into her ear.

A jolt of exhilaration coursed through her, yet she hid it, maintaining a calm facade while chatting with her son.

Ishaan : “Listen to Abhi, aunty,” he teased, stepping back just enough to make her ache for his closeness. “Let’s play.”

He grabbed a handful of red gulal, tossing it at her playfully, but his eyes were aiming somewhere else. The powder dusted her neck, trailing down her cleavage, and his gaze followed, shameless.

Ishaan : “Red looks good on you. It matches your cheeks when you’re… worked up.”

Her cheeks burned, not from the powder but from his words, liking the attention, craving his next move.

She grabbed a fistful of yellow powder, throwing it at him, aiming for defiance. It hit his chest, dusting his tee, and he laughed.

Ishaan : “Oh, aunty’s fighting back now,” he said, stepping closer again, dusting the powder off his abs, drawing her eyes to the taut muscle. 

Ishaan : “Careful, you might start something you can’t finish.”

Her body betrayed her, leaning into him.

Abhi’s carefree laughter rang out, unaware of the charged tension, as he flung more gulal into the air trying to fit in. 

Abhi : “Mom, you’re a rainbow now!” he shouted with delight, his eyes darting to the colored spots on his mom's white kurti, realising Ishaan’s wicked plan.

Abhi’s excitement fizzled, and in a hasty effort to part them, he mumbled, “Mom.. Uhmm.. I’m feeling off..” He seized his mother’s hand, weaving her out of the crowd and back to the safety of home.

Ishaan : “Holi’s just getting started, aunty,” he whispered, his voice raw, dripping with intent.

The colors blurred around her, but all she saw was Ishaan, her fire was her ruin, her wild, dark lover claiming her in the chaos.

[Steel]

The clouds started to cluster in the sky that evening, a restless breeze swirling through the colony as Madhuri climbed the terrace stairs, her laundry basket heavy clothes drenched in color, too bulky for a dryer. Her body still tingling from Ishaan’s bold touch during the chaos.

Downstairs, Ramesh freshened up and changed to a clean kurta, engrossed in his newspaper.

Madhuri : “I’m never entering a crowd again,” she whispered to herself, stepping onto the terrace, craving a blaze only Ishaan could stoke.

Heavy footsteps echoed behind her, and it was Ishaan. Her heart pounded at his presence. He strolled up, drab shirt hanging loosely over his toned frame, jeans snug, carrying a mischievous grin on his lips.

Ishaan : “Need a hand, Aunty?” his voice low, sultry, curling around the word like a caress. “The basket looks heavy,” he leaned against the railing, his gaze lingering on her.

Madhuri’s breath hitched. Her fingers tightened around a damp blouse, and a flush crept up her neck. 

Madhuri : “I'll manage, thank you,” she said, her tone aiming for nonchalance but quivering at the edges.

She turned aside, hands gripping her hair tight, feigning focus on the laundry, but her body betrayed her, pulse racing, eyes rolling back at him, skin prickling under his stare.

[Steel]

A sudden gust roared across the terrace, yanking her saree up. The fabric billowed, exposing the soft curve of her navel and her legs. Madhuri gasped, her hands fumbling to tame the cloth, but a secret thrill sparked within her. She caught Ishaan’s eyes, dark and unapologetic, drinking her in.

Ishaan : “Beautiful,” he breathed, stepping forward. "Nature really knows how to present a masterpiece," he said, gazing at the clouded sky.

Her cheeks burned, a mix of shame and desire pooling in her chest. 

Madhuri : “Don’t be silly,” she chided, but her voice was soft, lacking conviction. The air between them crackled.

Another gust tore through, and a wet curtain broke free from the line, whipping around them like a living thing. It tangled their bodies, pressing Madhuri against Ishaan’s chest.

His hands moved to untangle the fabric, grazing her waist and hips. Each touch sent a jolt through her, dissolving the thin veneer of propriety.

Ishaan : “Hold still, aunty,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear, “it could get… messy.” Her arousal surged, shame retreating like a tide.

From below, Abhi’s voice cut through the haze. “Damn this wind! Ma, the wire’s down again in the verandah!” Her son, oblivious, wrestled with fallen laundry in the courtyard.

Guilt flickered in Madhuri’s heart, but Ishaan’s closeness smothered it. His fingers lingered on the saree, now loosely dbangd between them.

Then came the rain, sudden, relentless, soaking them in seconds. Madhuri’s petticoat clung to her curves, translucent and revealing.

Ishaan’s eyes darkened, and he guided her to a shaded nook beneath the terrace overhang. 

Ishaan : “You’re shivering,” he said, pulling her close. Their wet bodies pressed together, the heat of his skin searing through the damp fabric. “Let me warm you up,” he added, his voice a promise.

Madhuri : “Ishaan, we shouldn’t… uh..” she started, but the words dissolved as he unbuttoned his shirt, removing it and dbanging it over her shoulders. The act was intimate, his bare chest inches from her.

Ishaan : “You’re too precious to be left cold,” he teased, his fingers brushing her collarbone. Her pretense of innocence crumbled, her hands nearly grazing his abs, desire roaring louder than the storm.

Abhi’s voice rose again, cursing the weather, still unaware. Madhuri’s heart pounded, torn between the thrill and the risk. Ishaan’s gaze held her captive, his half-smile daring her to cross the line.

The rain stopped as abruptly as it began, and a new voice broke the spell. “Madhuri? You up there?” Ramesh, called from the stairs.

Madhuri : “Ishaan, your shirt, button it, quick!” she hissed, panic seized her, shoving the shirt back at him.

He complied slowly, his fingers deliberate, eyes never leaving hers. “Relax, Aunty,” he murmured as she smoothed her saree.

Madhuri : “I’m here, Ramesh!” she called, forcing brightness into her voice. “Ishaan’s just.. helping with the laundry.”

Ramesh appeared, oblivious to the charged air. “Atta boy,” he said, nodding at Ishaan. Madhuri’s eyes darted to Ishaan’s half-buttoned shirt, the glimpse of his chest a silent reminder of their moment.

His gaze lingered, heavy with promise, leaving her caught between guilt, desire, and the fear of what might come next. The terrace, now still, seemed to hold its breath, mirroring the storm within her.

[Givemeextra]

This series is INSANE so far.

WOW, Just where were you all these days?

Eagerly waiting for mom-son together enjoyments ahead.

[Steel]

This series is INSANE so far.  

WOW, Just where were you all these days?

Eagerly waiting for mom-son together enjoyments ahead.

Thank you.

[Steel]

The next evening, twilight dbangd the city in a soft purple haze. The AC hummed inside the living room, a feeble defense against the humid air. Madhuri reached home from work, sat on the sofa in her loose shirt and pajamas, still haunted by the close encounter on the terrace with Ishaan.

She glanced at Ramesh, who is flipping through shows on Netflix, oblivious to the storm within her. She quickly surfed a few pics on her phone and changed her wallpaper.

Madhuri : “Ramesh,” she said, her voice a forced lilt, “how about some mehndi? It’s been a while.” She offered a shy smile, playing a happy wife, though her heart raced for a naughty plan.

Ramesh : “When is the last time I saw you being shy,” his face lit up. He grabbed a mehndi cone from a drawer, settling beside her. “Let’s make it special.”

His fingers worked deftly, tracing intricate patterns on her palms, binding her hands as the paste dried. 

Ramesh : “All done,” he said, kissing her forehead gently. “Don’t work those hands, love. Let it dry. I’ll check on dinner.” He left, humming, unaware of the chasm between them.

Alone, she entered her bedroom and glanced through the door for Ishaan. As he passed by the stairs heading down, she shouted from inside, “Can anyone come over?” and Ishaan sauntered in.

Ishaan : “You called, aunty?”

Madhuri : “I need help with something.” she said, sitting next to the vanity table, her voice thick with need. Her eyes locked onto his.

Ishaan : “What can I do?” he said, smirking at her mehndi-covered hands. 

Madhuri : “Can you just… check my mails, my hands are a little busy,” she said, nodding toward a pile of envelopes on the table, an excuse to keep him near.

Abhi : “Mom, was that you calling?” his voice sliced through the moment. Her son stood in the doorway, a bit embarrassed to enter the bedroom.

His eyes narrowed with sullen jealousy as he rushed and snatched the cards from Ishaan.

[Steel]

Madhuri : “Wait.. he's just helping, Abhi, I called him,” she said weakly, her eyes never leaving Ishaan.

Abhi doubtfully returned them, leaned on the wall next to the table, his face shadowed with envy for Ishaan, his gaze drifting to the drawer, wardrobe and the curtains, evoking memories of his dread and fear.

Among the letters was a wedding card, its gold embossing catching the light. 

Ishaan : “Requesting the pleasure of your presence to grace the wedding of Sumit and Nisha,” he read out loud.

Madhuri : “Oh wait, I need to call them,” Madhuri said, her voice unsteady. “My phone… Oh.. it's in my pocket.” Her thighs shifted, revealing the curve of her hip.

Ishaan grinned as he reached into the pocket of her pajamas, his fingers grazing her thigh, pausing where he expected her panty but found only skin. The absence of inners hit him like a spark, and her own excitement flared at his teasing smile.

Abhi’s face flushed with jealousy, as Ishaan casually explored the pocket. 

Madhuri : “Oops, wrong side,” Ishaan smirked at her and reached into the other pocket.

He pulled out the phone, glancing at its screen, a provocative wallpaper, a curvy woman’s silhouette, adorned with demon horns, wearing a blindfold, striking a seductive pose, possibly nude, clutching handcuffs.

Ishaan : “Fascinating art, Aunty. Curious who the artist is,” he teased, his voice low as he dialed the number.

He gripped the phone, holding it right beside her ear and stepped closer.

His free hand massaging her shoulder, his touch firm yet sensual. Madhuri’s bound hands made her clumsy as she took the phone, her body trembling under his control.

Their eyes locked through the mirror, his gaze piercing through her with unspoken intent. She tried to play it cool, talking nonchalantly on the phone with her cousin.

Madhuri : “Nisha, congratulations! I’m so thrilled for you,” she said, her tone warm and festive. “I’ve started applying mehendi already, can’t wait to see you at the wedding!” Her lips curved into a smile.

Meanwhile, Ishaan’s hands slid lower, his fingers brushing below the collarbone under the guise of a gentle massage.

[Steel]

Madhuri didn’t flinch, her smile unwavering as she continued, “Oh, Nisha, the designs are gorgeous, you should see them!” Yet her gaze met Ishaan’s in the mirror, a spark of mutual longing passing between them.

Abhi, leaning behind, watched the scene unfold, his chest tightening with a mix of envy and a strange, conflicting thrill. 

Abhi : “How can she just let him…” he muttered under his breath, his face flushing with resentment.

The sight of Ishaan’s hands on her, the way her smile held a secret, stirred something unsettling in him.

Unable to stand it any longer, he turned to the AC’s wiring panel nearby, his fingers trembling as he yanked at the cords, an experience he learned before. 

Abhi : “Let’s see how they stay in the room, ” he whispered to himself, cutting the connection to the unit with a quick, angry tug.

Madhuri laughed into the phone, oblivious to Abhi’s actions. 

Madhuri : “Nisha, you better save me a dance at the sangeet!” she teased, her voice light, her eyes catching his smirk in the mirror.

His fingers pressed a little firmer, a little lower, grazing the gap near her buttons. 

Ishaan : “You’re gonna steal the show, Aunty,” Ishaan said softly, his tone laced with mischief. She shot him a playful glance through the mirror, starting to realize something's off in the room.

The AC sputtered and died, the room growing stifling. “It’s so hot, Ishaan, Do something,” Madhuri complained, her voice a mix of frustration and invitation.

She unbuttoned her shirt to her cleavage, exposing the swell of her chest.

Ishaan grabbed a hand fan, his eyes glinting. “I’ve got you,” he said. He fanned her, his breath cool against her skin, his fingers brushing the revised edge. The intimacy was brazen, her body responding with every touch.

Abhi grunted, a mehndi cone in hand, his eyes flashing with anger and something darker, amusement, perhaps, at his mother’s flushed state.

He squeezed the cone, splattering paste across the floor. 

Abhi : “Dad's calling, Ma,” he said, his tone sharp. Guilt stabbed Madhuri, on the phone, she struggled to speak, her words faltering as Ishaan’s fingers brushed her skin.

Madhuri : “Sure, we’ll attend in advance,” she managed. 

Ishaan ended the call, his eyes held hers, a silent promise of more.

[Steel]

The next morning, TV in the living room hummed with a cricket commentary. Dressed in a casual chudidhar, Madhuri, sat on the sofa, gazing at her mehendi, its bold maroon design captivating, her mind still reeling from last night's magic at the vanity.

Her desire for Ishaan burned, a forbidden flame warring with the guilt that gnawed at her. Ramesh, sat across, engrossed in cricket highlights.

Madhuri : “Ramesh,” she said, forcing a smile, “Nisha's wedding is coming. I’m thinking of shopping today. Maybe a saree.”

Before Ramesh could respond, Ishaan strode in from Abhi's room, his red checked shirt and jeans exuding a dangerous charm. 

Ishaan : “Saree would be perfect, Aunty, not for your cousin’s marriage," he said, his voice sudden and teasing, “But to spice up your own," he said low, flashing a wink at Ramesh. 

Ishaan : "I'm talking about a little gift for Uncle tonight." His gaze held hers, stirring a rush of yearning, "She said, the outfit didn't fit her well the last time, let me take aunty with me, I'll get her ready for a show.”

Ramesh : “Great idea, my boy! Spoil her a bit,” he said, clapping Ishaan on the shoulder grinning broadly, oblivious to the undercurrents. 

Leaning closer, his voice dropped to a whisper. 

Ramesh : “Listen, Ishaan, the bedroom’s gone cold again. I couldn’t even, you know.. rise to the occasion last few nights. Here.. take my card and keys. I need you to save me from these bedtime embarrassments.”

Ishaan’s eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and assurance. 

Ishaan : “Don’t worry, Uncle,” he replied smoothly, his tone low and confident. “Just lay off the booze this time and leave the rest to me.”

Ramesh sighed and winked at Madhuri, his trust a sharp pang in her chest. 

Abhi overheard this from his room and quickly entered the living room in an attempt to stop Ishaan's plans from brewing further.

Abhi : “Did I hear shopping?” he asked looking at Ishaan with a huffy face and Ishaan smirked.

Ramesh : “Yeah Abhi, mom needs a few clothes and accessories for Aunt Nisha's wedding. Go on, love. Ishaan has a great taste. I'll wait to see you tonight,” Her guilt deepened, but her body trembled with anticipation as she nodded.

Feeling a dark unease, Abhi turned to his father. 

Abhi : “Dad, we both could use some new clothes too. Why don’t you come along? ”

Ramesh, still smiling obliviously, waved a hand dismissively. 

Ramesh : “Sorry, son, I’m tied up today. Got an appointment with my executive this afternoon, can’t miss it.” He glanced at Abhi, then at Ishaan, nodding encouragingly. “You go along with them. It’ll be good for you to join your mom and your friend.”

With a reluctant nod, Abhi followed his mother and Ishaan as they headed out, the air thick with unspoken tension.

[Steel]

The car started as Ishaan gripped the wheel. Abhi wanted to claim the front seat, forcing Madhuri to sit in the back, but she already made her place next to Ishaan.

The air was thick, charged with unspoken emotions. Ishaan tilted the rearview mirror, catching Madhuri’s gaze. She sat in her casual churidar, her vibrant mehendi glowing against her skin, her eyes locked on his.

A slow, teasing bite of her lip sent a spark through him, and she tilted her head playfully, a silent invitation.

Abhi caught the exchange in the mirror, his face flushing with shame and rage. His mother, flirting so openly with Ishaan, seemed to be slipping into something he couldn’t digest, from a devoted mom to his bully’s plaything.



Abhi : “Keep your eyes on the road and drive,” he snapped, his voice sharp.

Madhuri flinched, her smile faltering as she looked out the window, breaking the moment.

Ishaan chuckled, unfazed. 

Ishaan : “Relax, Abhi,” he said, his tone mocking. “Why don’t you head to the kids section at the mall and pick something out, while I take care of your mom on the ladies floor.” His words dripped with condescension, belittling Abhi further.

Abhi’s fists clenched, his anger simmering, but couldn’t say. Madhuri stifled a chuckle, her hand covering her mouth, though her eyes still glinted with amusement.

Within a few minutes, they pulled into the mall’s parking lot. As they entered, Abhi bolted toward the escalator. 

Abhi : “I’ll grab something quick,” he said, heading to the men’s floor. “Stop me if you can,” he muttered, determined to prove a point.

The sprawling complex was a chaotic symphony of weekend crowd and luxury, the cold air inside heavy with neroli fragrance.

Ishaan, with a sly grin, guided Madhuri toward the women’s apparel section, steering her to a corner where modern, revealing dresses screamed audacity.

[Steel]

Madhuri, in her late 30s, felt a flush of embarrassment, noticing she was older than the other women there, all younger and polished. Unbeknownst to her, every salesman's eyes lingered on her, drawn to her allure.

Madhuri hesitated, her cheeks warming. “These are… a bit much,” she murmured, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of excitement.

Ishaan picked out a few dresses.

Ishaan : “Come, try these, Aunty,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “They’ll look stunning on you.”

He smirked, leading her to the changing rooms. The worker there, a stern-looking man, eyed Ishaan suspiciously as he removed the tags from the dresses. “Only one person per room,” he said gruffly, his gaze lingering on them.

Ishaan nodded, his smile unbothered. “No problem,” he replied smoothly, gesturing Madhuri to step inside and followed her until the aisle.

Ishaan lounged on a chair, his eyes glinting as he handed Madhuri the first dress, an emerald sequined crochet slip dress with an asymmetrical hem that shimmered under the fluorescent light. “Try this one, Aunty,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Let’s see how it looks.”

Madhuri smirked, snatching the dress and locking the door with a click. The attendant outside shot Ishaan a wary glance, as if expecting trouble.

Moments later, the lock clicked again, and Madhuri stepped out, the dress clinging to her curves. Ishaan’s gaze roamed over her, a slow grin spreading. “Can you step forward,” she hesitated, then extended her leg, the high slit parting to expose the thick thigh. “Like this?” she asked, her tone playful but nervous.

Ishaan : “Damn, Aunty, you’re starving me already. Uncle’s gonna have a feast tonight.” She let out a chuckle.

He handed her the next dress, a weird looking brown dress. As she took it, Abhi’s voice pierced the air from outside. 

Abhi : “Ma, you in there? I’m done shopping, from the men’s section!” he insisted.

Madhuri froze, “Just wait, Abhi!” she called, her voice strained. “I’m changing!” She shot Ishaan an awkward look, her cheeks flushing, and shut the door to slip into the new dress.

She wore it and peered into the mirror, it looked like an ordinary sheath dress. Turning to the side mirrors, she was stunned to see a sleek, form-fitting gown with detailed triangular cut-outs woven along her sides.

When she opened the door, the cut-outs hugged her curves, exposing the sides of her breasts, waist along her legs in a daring display. She stood hesitantly, meeting Ishaan’s eyes.

“Turn around,” he said, his tone commanding yet teasing. “Let me see it all.”

Smirking, Madhuri twirled, the dress accentuating every curve, her bare skin flashing through the laced gaps.

Abhi’s voice rang out again, impatient. “Mom, these bags are heavy!”

Madhuri : “Just a few more minutes, sweetie!” she shouted, exasperated. Turning to Ishaan, she muttered, “Can you give him your chair?”

Ishaan chuckled, leaning back. 

Ishaan : “I’m polite to all the ladies out there, Aunty, but these little boys? They can wait.” He winked, his voice dripping with suggestion. “I’d get up anytime for a woman who wants to… sit. You get me?”

Madhuri’s throat tightened, catching his double entendre. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said quickly, brushing it off, and grabbed the final dress, a long-sleeve mesh corset mini dress.

She locked the door, changed, and stepped out, her cheeks burning. The tight fabric hugged her, her breasts straining against the mesh, the hem riding high above her knees, outlining her ass. She tugged at it, flustered, trying to pull it lower.



Ishaan’s eyes gleamed. “This is too cute, Aunty. But Uncle doesn’t deserve this much.”

She laughed, a nervous edge to it. “Which one’s your favorite?”

He tilted his head, smirking. “All three look killer, but honestly, I’d like you best in nothing at all.”

Madhuri’s face flushed, and she looked away. “Ishaan, that’s no way to talk to your aunt,” she scolded softly.

“Sorry, just being honest,” he said, his grin unapologetic. “It’s how I am.”

She shook her head, waving it off. “Alright, let’s go. Abhi’s waiting.” As she turned to change, Ishaan stopped her, holding out a saree. “Wait. This one’s for your cousin’s wedding. You almost forgot.”

[Steel]

Madhuri sighed, taking the saree. “Right, the wedding.” She changed quickly, dbanging the fabric over her curves, and stepped out and Ishaan beckoned her closer. 

Ishaan : “Come out, let me check the fit.” He circled her, as she stepped in the aisle, his fingers brushing the fabric lightly, ensuring it hugged her well, his gaze intense but subtle.

Ishaaan : “Perfect,” he murmured, as Madhuri’s heart raced, the weight of Abhi’s impatience lingering just outside.

Ishaan : “But it needs a few tweaks, let me fix it,” he said, adjusting her saree with deft hands. His fingers grazed the edge of her blouse, slipping slightly inside and brushing her breasts.

She stifled a gasp as the worker glanced over, visibly startled.

Noting the blouse needed loosening, he tugged it down slightly, then smoothed the saree thin over her hips, accentuating her navel.

He turned her to face the mirror, showing off her beauty, and hooked his thumbs into her waistband, pulling it lower to display her V-line.

Pretending to adjust the fabric, he deliberately brushed his fingers across the stubble above her pussy through the thin saree.

Madhuri gasped, whispering, “Ishaan, wait..” she whispered, but her body arched towards him, craving more. The shopkeeper, a middle-aged man, glanced over, momentarily stunned by their intimacy, but said nothing.

Abhi : “Hurry up, Ma,” he barked, his voice laced with irritation.

She broke free from his embrace, slipped into the changing room, and locked the door to switch back to her churidar and both stepped out.

Ishaan passed another bag containing three new dresses and a black saree to Abhi, forcing him to carry since they were occupied.

[Steel]

Ishaan’s eyes glinted as he leaned closer to Madhuri, his voice a low, seductive murmur. 

Ishaan : “That was a start, Aunty, but let’s get something… intimate for Uncle.” He paused, letting the word linger. 

Madhuri : “As in?” she asked, her voice soft.

Ishaan : “I’m talking about custom lingerie. He’ll love it.” His smirk was a challenge, and Madhuri’s breath hitched, her pretense of reluctance crumbling.

Madhuri : “I… don’t know,” she said, her voice trembling. “It’s a bit much, Ishaan.”

Ishaan : “Trust me, come on” he replied, guiding her toward a designer’s boutique tucked in a quiet corner of the mall. Abhi trailed behind, struggling with the heavy bags, his face a mix of frustration and suspicion.

They stepped into the boutique, its sleek walls adorned with silk and lace, the air thick with an intimate allure despite the humming AC. 

The designer, a wiry man in his thirties and an old acquaintance of Ishaan’s, greeted them with a sly, knowing grin. 

“May I help you, Sir?” he asked, his eyes briefly scanning Madhuri’s flushed face.

“Yeah,” Ishaan replied confidently, “I need custom lingerie for her.”

The designer nodded, unfazed, and handed Ishaan a design catalogue. “Sure, please take a look and customize while I get the tape.”

Ishaan took the catalogue with authority, flipping through its pages, his eyes lingering on each design as he glanced at Madhuri, picturing her in the delicate, revealing pieces.

[Steel]

Madhuri’s cheeks burned, shame surging through her as she stood under their gazes. The designer turned to her, his tone professional but probing. “May I take your measurements, ma’am?”

She hesitated, her heart racing, “Is this necessary? I already know my sizes,” she said, her voice unsteady, trying to deflect.

The designer smiled reassuringly. “Our measurements are non-standard, ma’am, but they ensure a perfect fit.”

Madhuri hesitated, doubt flickering in her eyes, but she relented. “O-Okay,” she murmured, barely audible, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on her.

Outside, Abhi reached the boutique’s corner, only to be stopped by a stern security guard. “My mom’s inside,” he protested, his voice tight with frustration.

“Sorry, kid, This is no place for children,” the guard replied, unmoved. 

“I’m not a kid. Stop calling me that,” Abhi muffled and slumped onto a nearby bench, fuming, clutching the bags and waiting for them to come out.

Inside, the designer began measuring Madhuri’s bust, his tape measure “accidentally” slipping. Ishaan, watching closely, stepped forward, his voice firm. 

Ishaan : “Let me hold it. You note it down.”

Madhuri raised her arms, her breath catching as Ishaan wrapped the tape around her chest, his fingers deliberately pressing through her churidar, grazing her nipples, which hardened under the touch.

The designer jotted down the measurement, unfazed. “Now under the breasts,” he instructed. Ishaan slid the tape lower, and tightened, his touch bold, eyes locked on hers.

“And her breasts, over the nipples, like this.” he said, Ishaan's fingers brushing her again, unapologetic.

He continued, measuring from her shoulder, neck down to her navel, his movements precise but charged. The designer nodded.

“Now the hip size.” Ishaan circled the tape around her, dragging it slowly over her body, lingering where her curves protruded most, his fingers grazing her ass. 

As soon as the designer noted it down, Madhuri exhaled in relief, thinking it was over. “Thank G0d,” she muttered.

The designer glanced up. “A few more measurements, ma’am. Please lift your churidar.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “Why?” she asked, voice trembling.

“Just a couple more for... accuracy,” he replied calmly, though his eyes flickered with something else. Madhuri’s heart raced, caught between embarrassment and the electric pull of Ishaan’s presence.

[Steel]

Madhuri’s hands trembled as she hesitantly lifted her churidar top, revealing the tight leggings clinging to her curves.

The designer, his tone clinical yet probing, instructed, “Please put your feet apart slightly, ma’am.” 

As she did that, he glanced at Ishaan, “Measure from her inner thigh, near the crotch, to the hip joint.”

Both men knelt before her, Ishaan’s eyes glinting as he positioned the tape, the designer observing closely. Madhuri’s breath hitched, unsure of the situation, her mind racing.

Ishaan began, his fingers brushing from her ass down to her inner thigh, grazing her sensitive skin. A jolt of pleasure shot through her, memories of that blindfolded night with Ishaan flooding back. She tried to steady herself, but his lingering touch made her knees quiver.

He took multiple attempts, each one brushing her most sensitive spots, igniting a warmth that left a small wet patch on her leggings. Her heart pounded, praying they wouldn’t notice.

The designer’s eyes flicked to the damp spot but said nothing, his voice calm.

“Now, measure along the bottom, start at the creak of her buttocks, down through to the navel.”

Madhuri’s eyes widened. “What? That’s… such a strange way to measure,” she stammered, her voice shaky.

“It's a crucial step for our precision,” the designer assured smoothly, his tone almost too polished.

Ishaan held one end of the tape at the top of her butt crack, passing the other end under her crotch to the designer, who then placed it against her bare navel.

Both of them touching wherever they want sent a shock through her, her body trembling with illicit excitement. She gripped her churidar top tightly to keep it from falling, her breath uneven.

They pulled the tape slowly from both ends, grazing her crotch, over the leggings, their movements deliberate under the guise of calibration. The friction against her honeypot made her knees buckle inward, a soft moan escaping her lips as the dampness grew, her leggings betraying her arousal.

Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the AC, her expression shifting to one of barely contained desire. “Mmmh..” she let out a soft moan, eyes closed as they lingered, teasing her with subtle rubs, watching her squirm awkwardly from below.

Finally, the designer stepped back, his voice polite. “Thank you for your cooperation, ma’am. You can relax now.” 

Madhuri came back to this world and opened her eyes. The tape was visibly damp from her juice, but he said nothing, noting the measurements.

Ishaan, with a smirk, detailed the customizations he wanted, and the designer nodded modestly, agreeing.

They exited the boutique, finding Abhi outside, his face a storm of anger and anticipation. “Mom, why’d you leave me out here?!” he demanded, gripping the bags tightly.

Madhuri, still flushed, forced a smile. “Sorry, sweetie, women’s shopping takes time. Didn't want to bore you.” Her voice wavered, deflecting his frustration.

Without another word, they headed home, the air between them heavy with unspoken tensions and front mirror communications. Madhuri’s mind still reeling from the charged encounter, Abhi’s anger simmering, and Ishaan’s knowing glance lingering in the silence.

[SubmissiveSwati]

is this a repost from literotica ?

[Steel]

is this a repost from literotica ?

I was the author of that story. Glad you read it, but the story I am writing here has extra details, scenarios and chapters added, along with all the pictures.