Incest Mom tricked by Bully (Mask of Desire)

[Vinty03]

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.

U continue with the story it's one of the best.

[Steel]

They reached home late in the evening. Madhuri entered and lounged on the sofa, Her body still carried the echo of the shopping mall.

Her husband, Ramesh, paced near the dining table, his phone pressed to his ear. “Yes, tonight. I’ll be on the 10 p.m. flight to New York,” he said, voice clipped, brows furrowed. He hung up, glancing at Madhuri. 

Ramesh : “What took you guys so long, Uhh.. I got a work emergency, babe. I’m off to the US again for a week. Leaving tonight. Where's Ishaan?”

Madhuri’s heart skipped, a mix of guilt and strange relief washing over her. 

Madhuri : “Again? This urgent?” she asked, her voice softer than she intended. "Ishaan's.. parking the car."

Ramesh shrugged, distracted, already mentally elsewhere. He crossed the room, planted a quick kiss on her forehead, and grabbed his keys. 

Ramesh : “I’ll call you when I land. Take care of Abhi.” The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the room quieter, heavier.

Madhuri sank deeper into the sofa, her fingers tracing the edge of her chudidhar, her mind replaying Ishaan’s hands adjusting the tape measure.

The door swung open, and Abhi shuffled in, his face sullen, clutching shopping bags, his shoulders hunched. 

Abhi : “Dad’s leaving again, isn’t he?” he muttered, placing the bag onto the coffee table.

Abhi : “And this stupid shopping. What took you so long? What even is in these bags?”

Madhuri : “Abhi, don’t start now,” her chest tightened, “I had to buy a few extra things for your aunt’s marriage.”

Abhi : “Whatever,” he cut her off, his voice sharp with resentment. “Dad’s not going to be here. And I know you’re fine with it.” he whispered to himself.

A few minutes later, the doorbell chimed, Madhuri’s breath caught. She knew who it was before she opened the door. Ishaan stood there with a leather bag slung over his shoulder.

[Steel]

Ishaaan : “Aunty,” he drawled, stepping inside, the smirk growing as he set the bag down. “Don’t worry about Uncle. We had a little chat.” He patted the bag, his eyes never leaving hers. “He handed me this camera and some… responsibilities.”

Madhuri : “Camera? What for?” her brow furrowed, confusion settling in. 

Ishaan’s smirk widened, a sly edge to it. 

Ishaan : “Since he’s leaving and won’t see you for a week, I suggested a photoshoot with you. You know, so he can see what he’s missing across oceans.” his tone dipped.

Ishaan : “He loved the idea and thanked me. Even asked me to handle it myself, saying I’m trustworthy.” He paused, his gaze lingering. “Look at your phone.”

Madhuri’s mouth went dry. She grabbed her phone from the coffee table, her fingers trembling slightly as she opened Ramesh’s long unread message. Her eyes scanned the long text: "Hey dear, sorry for the unexpected trip. All my emails were suddenly archived, and I missed the heads-up about it. My boss mentioned it this afternoon after you guys left. I could’ve canceled if I’d seen it sooner, but it’s too late now. Don’t worry, I told Ishaan about a photoshoot. Please cooperate with him for my sake. He’s a good kid, do what he says. Let’s exchange pics for now. I’ll be back soon. Bye, my love."

Her heart sank, she knew Ishaan’s fingerprints were all over this. She typed a quick reply, her fingers moving instinctively: "Anything for you, honey. I’ll miss you. Take care."

Hitting send, she looked up at Ishaan, his grin now unmistakably predatory.

Abhi perked up, “I can take the photos!” he said, grabbing his phone. “I’m good with angles, Mom, you know that.” eager to steal the chance.

Ishaan’s smile sharpened, his gaze flicking to Abhi with a dismissive edge. “No offense, snowflake, but uncle likes it all professional. I need control of the frame and you’d just get in the way.” His tone was cold, final, cutting through Abhi’s enthusiasm like a blade.

[Steel]

Abhi’s face fell, his jaw tightening. “Fine,” he snapped, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Do whatever.” He stormed toward his loom, closed the door with a thud and hopped on his bed staring at the ceiling, leaving Madhuri’s guilt to twist tighter. 



She wanted to call after him, to soothe his hurt, but Ishaan’s presence anchored her in place.

Ishaan : “Don’t worry about him, aunty” he said, stepping closer, his voice low, almost a whisper. “He’ll get over it. Let’s focus on you.” His fingers brushed her arm as he handed her the shopping bags, the touch deliberate, electric. 

Ishaan : “Go and change. I’ll set up in your bedroom.”

Madhuri’s heart pounded, her body aching with a mix of shame and desire. “Ishaan, I-I don't think this is right,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

He tilted his head, his eyes locked on hers, bold and unyielding. 

Ishaan : “Don't you see how desperate uncle is? Do it for him aunty. Why fight it?” 

Madhuri forced a small, uneven smile, masking the flutter of excitement and unease in her chest. 

Madhuri : “Umm, okay,” she said, her voice light but laced with suspicion. “But, I need to freshen up first.”

Ishaan’s eyes gleamed, catching the playful edge in her tone. 

Ishaan : “I know. You were sweating buckets at the boutique even in the AC. Take your time, Aunty,” he said, leaning casually on the sofa, his fingers brushing the strap of the camera bag. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Her legs moved before her mind could catch up, carrying her upstairs. The bag felt heavy in her hands, her thoughts a tangle of maternal guilt, loyalty to Ramesh, and the reckless thrill of Ishaan’s gaze.

[Steel]

Madhuri slipped into the bathroom, leaving the bedroom door slightly open. She knew Ishaan would follow.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Abhi lay sprawled on his bed in the dark, the lights off, his chest heavy with betrayal. His mother’s complicity stung, and he vowed silently to himself: "No more. I wouldn’t be part of his schemes, no more watching my mom taking orders from him."

Upstairs, Ishaan moved with purpose, removed his shirt, arms bare in a tank top, and stepped into Madhuri’s bedroom. He began setting up, pulling equipment from his leather bag and stuff from the storeroom, a tripod, softbox lights, a reflector.

His movements were deliberate, practiced, as if he’d planned every detail. 

Madhuri emerged from the bathroom, her damp hair clinging to her neck, a thick robe loosely tied around her. She caught his eye, and his smirk returned, sharp and knowing.

Ishaan : “Go Aunty, change behind those curtains,” Ishaan said, nodding toward the corner of the spacious room where her vanity shifted. “I’ll finish setting up.” He shifted her bed to one side, clearing space.

Madhuri grabbed the shopping bags, took out the first dress he'd chosen, her bare feet leaving faint wet prints on the hardwood floor as she crossed to the makeshift changing area.

Her pulse quickened, an unfamiliar excitement buzzing under her skin. Behind the curtain, she let the robe fall, drying herself, sliding her arms into the sleek, emerald slip dress, its fabric cool against her skin.

[Steel]

Ishaan locked the door from inside, the soft click sent a shiver through her.

The camera shutter clicked, and Ishaan snapped a quick selfie, tongue popped out, his grin sharp and wicked against the backdrop of the meticulously arranged bedroom.

The image instantly beamed to the movie night projector in Abhi’s room downstairs, a soft chime announcing its arrival. The wall lit up, casting Ishaan’s smug face and the staged scene across the dark space.

Abhi’s eyes snapped open, his stomach twisting at the sight of his parents’ bedroom transformed into Ishaan’s playground.

Clenching his fists, Abhi buried his face in his pillow, smothering the urge to scream. He wouldn’t watch. He couldn’t.

Upstairs, Madhuri made her hair, adjusted the dress, her fingers trembling slightly, and stepped out from behind the curtain, her eyes meeting Ishaan’s.

The slip dress hugged her frame, its asymmetrical hem catching the light, shimmering with every step.

He stood by the camera, his expression unreadable but charged, the lights casting sharp shadows across his face.

The room’s ambiance, the soft glow of the lights, the faint scent of jasmine from a diffuser, heightened the electric hum in her veins.

Ishaan : “Well, look at you,” he said, leaning against the tripod, his voice smooth, laced with something daring.

Ishaan : “Ready to make uncle happy?” He gestured toward the center of the room, where the lights converged. “Step in here, Aunty. Let’s make this worth his while.”

[Steel]

Ishaan’s voice cut through the charged silence, calm but commanding. 

Ishaan : “Alright, first pose. Turn slightly, look back over your shoulder, bend a knee slightly.” Madhuri complied, stepping into the pool of light.

The slit parted subtly, accentuating her leg as she angled her body. Ishaan adjusted the lens, his eyes sharp behind the camera. 

* Click *  

The shutter snapped, and the image beamed to Abhi’s room with a chime.

Downstairs, Abhi’s resolve wavered. He tried to keep his face buried in the pillow, but curiosity tugged at him. He glanced up, and there she was, his mother, framed on the wall in that shimmering dress, he slowly got up and sat on the bed.

"Mom? How could she wear that? Is this what they’ve been shopping all day for?" he thought, fury spiking. "Posing like that for Ishaan, out of all?" He pulled the pillow, flushing his face deeper into it, trying to block it out.

Another chime. This time, she sat on the bed’s edge, legs crossed at the knee, the slit falling open to reveal her thigh. Her hands rested on her legs, her chest pushed slightly forward, her expression bold, almost provocative.

Abhi’s jaw tightened, a confusing heat stirring in him. His body betrayed him, a twitch of arousal he despised himself for.

[Praju69]

You're a wonderful writer buddy.... Never stop writing stories i have a plot if u wish to write

[Davit]

Notted mom son

[Steel]

Grabbing his phone, he typed a furious message: "Ishaan, stop this bullshit now." He hit send, glaring at the screen. The message sat on read, Ishaan’s silence a taunting dismissal.

Upstairs, Ishaan’s smirk didn’t falter. “Perfect,” he murmured, adjusting the camera for the next shot. 

After taking a few more clicks, Ishaan called her “Now, let’s do the next one, Aunty.”

His voice was smooth, coaxing, as Madhuri hesitated for a fraction of a second before complying, the air between them crackling with unspoken tension.

A soft chime broke the silence in Abhi’s room as another image flickered onto the wall.

Madhuri had changed into the form-fitting gown, its triangular cutouts along the sides exposing slivers of skin. The three-quarter shot, taken at mid-level, captured her standing with one hand on her hip, her body slightly turned to emphasize her curves, her boobs popping out, the silk stretching tight, almost cutting it off.

Abhi’s eyes betrayed him, lingering on the subtle skin show, unable to look away despite the knot of anger in his chest.

Another one, quick and relentless. Madhuri now lay on her side on the bed, propped on one elbow, her legs sprawled free on the bed. Her hands held her dress together preventing any slipping, the low-angle, eye-level shot from the bed’s edge making her seem larger than life on his wall.

Abhi swallowed hard, his mind screaming that she’d fallen into Ishaan’s trap, yet his body reacted, a shameful heat pooling within him.

"I don't get how dad agreed to all of this. Mom's clearly playing him!" he fumed, desperate to stop it, Abhi stumbled out of bed and yanked at his door but found it locked from outside. 

Ishaan had planned this, too. He grabbed his phone and fired off another text: "Take off the lock. Now! Get me out." No response.

Defeated, he sank back onto the bed, his eyes drawn unwillingly to the projection, fixating on the bare skin popping out of his mother’s deep cleavage, so openly displayed. His arousal surged, and he hated himself for it.

[Sharmin Shila]

Just superb and blockbuster writing.

[Steel]

A few shots later, Madhuri appeared in the mesh corset mini dress, standing in front of the camera, hands on hips, eyes on the cameraman. Her curves strained against the tight corset, her boobs nearly spilling out. 

The next image, a full-length shot. She leaned back against the wall, chest slightly forward, hands above her head to elongate her body, angled to the side. Her long, bare legs gleamed under the lights, and Abhi’s resistance crumbled.

Abhi shot to his feet, a twisted cuckold excitement pulsing through him again, his dick throbbing as he stared at the provocative image.

He accepted his helplessness, sinking to the floor beneath the projection, his face positioned as if it was under her foot. His hand moved to his crotch, rubbing slowly, guilt and desire warring within him.

Another chime. A low-angle shot now, Madhuri kneeling on the bed, legs slightly spread, one hand on her knee, the other brushing through her hair.

Her torso twisted to highlight the corset’s fit, the lighting casting a shadow between her thighs, teasing at what lay beneath. Abhi’s breath hitched, his pulse racing as his eyes locked on the shadow between her legs.

Upstairs, Ishaan’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming as he watched Madhuri surrender to the moment, her compliance veiled as devotion to her husband. 

Ishaan : “You’re no less than a plus-size model, Aunty,” he said, his voice dripping with flattery and she smiled, bashful. He handed her a sleek, black bag, its contents hidden. “Change into this next.”

Madhuri took the bag, her brow arching. “What’s in it?”

Ishaan : “Custom lingerie, they delivered it quick.” his tone low. “And... something special from my side.”

Her pulse quickened as she slipped behind the curtain, unzipping the bag. Her breath caught at the sight, a white cropped button-down shirt, a black-and-white plaid mini skirt, and delicate lingerie beneath. It was scandalously bold, teetering on taboo.

[Mama's Loving Son]

Just superb and marvelous story.

[Vinty03]

Hot update with sexy photos.

[Vondo Ojha]

Really extraordinary and excellent update.

[Munda007]

Its become sexier...

[Steel]

She hesitated, her heart pounding, but the thrill won out. Slowly, she changed, the lingerie hugging her tight, the outfit barely concealing it. 

Stepping out, her cheeks flushed with awkward embarrassment, she crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes meeting Ishaan’s with a mix of innocence and secret excitement.

Ishaan’s stare was hungry, unapologetic. “Didn’t expect it to suit you so well,” he said, stepping closer. His fingers grazed the shirt, removing the buttons at the top, adjusting the knot under her breasts, tugging the skirt slightly up her waist. 

Madhuri tensed, her voice sharp but curious. “Wait, what are you doing? Whose idea was this?”

Ishaan : “Mine,” he admitted, his confidence unshaken. “Who knows what Uncle’s kinks are? Thought I’d give it a shot.” He stepped back, gesturing to the center of the room. “Come on, stand there and pose for me.” he said with a commanding tone.

Madhuri’s lips curved into a teasing smirk, acting hesitant and sauntered to the spotlight to pose, her movements deliberate.

Downstairs, a chime pierced the air, and a new image flashed onto Abhi’s wall. His eyes widened in shock. His mother stood in the center of the room, dressed in their high college girl’s uniform, except the skirt was scandalously short.

Abhi : “What the fuck, Mom?” he muttered, his shorts sliding down as his hand moved uncontrollably, gripped by a shameful rush.

[Steel]

Upstairs, Ishaan’s voice cut through again. “Pull the ends of the knot open,” he instructed, “and pull the skirt up a bit.”

Madhuri’s eyes widened, feigning innocence. “No, Ishaan, that’s crossing the line.”

Ishaan leaned in, his voice smooth, persuasive. “Trust me, Uncle’s gonna love it.”

She bit her lip, her expression torn but betraying a flicker of hunger. Slowly, her fingers grazed the knot, her other hand brushing the skirt’s hem, pulling it higher, as Ishaan lowered the camera angle, his grin predatory.

The projector in Abhi’s room flickered, switching to a live feed, the chime replaced by the soft hum of real-time video.

Upstairs, Madhuri’s fingers tugged the ends of her cropped shirt, the fabric parting in a slow, stunning reveal. Her balconette bra hugged her breasts tightly, the sight electrifying. 

She knew this wasn’t for Ramesh anymore, sliding the skirt a bit higher, the hem touching her belly. The spark in her eyes danced for Ishaan’s wicked game, her body swaying to his unspoken commands.

Abhi stared at the moving frames, his mother transformed into something brazen, seductive, under his bully’s control. His fragile ego burned with shame, yet desire surged as her breasts jiggled with the shirt’s release. 

He’d never thought his innocent traditional mom would be dressed like a sexy college teenager, that too in front of a boy she met a few weeks back.

Ishaan’s voice came through the feed, low and commanding. “Turn back and keep going.” Without hesitation, Madhuri turned, peeling off the shirt entirely and sliding the skirt even higher. 

Her smooth, peachy ass filled the projection, and Abhi’s hands held his head, grasping at the image, forgetting it was just light and shadow as he wondered how his mom would have looked when she was an actual teenager.

[Steel]

A buzz from his phone snapped him out of it. "Check under your desk." A message from Ishaan,  Abhi’s heart raced as he pulled the drawer out of the desk, finding a pair of panties, soft, slightly damp. 

Confused, aroused, he texted back: "Whose panty is this?" Ishaan’s reply was instant, cruel: "Who else, sisspot? It’s your bitch mommy’s. She left it openly on the bed here before going to take a bath. You can use it from today."

Abhi’s nerves tightened, his fingers clutching the fabric as his eyes flicked back to the wall. The camera zoomed closer, Madhuri’s curves filling the frame as she swayed, unzipping her skirt from the side and removing it down her legs, her movements deliberately seductive. 

Madhuri : “Isn't it hot in here, Ishaan?” Her voice, teasing, broke through.

Ishaan : “Yeah, aunty,” he replied. “Temperature has spiked suddenly,” his tone thick with amusement. She chuckled, a playful edge in her voice. 

Madhuri : “Maybe you should take off some clothes too.”

The feed showed Ishaan setting the camera on the bedside table, stripping down to his boxers. Madhuri’s eyes gleamed with thrilled excitement. He grabbed the camera again, directing her. 

Ishaan : “Get on the bed.”

She obeyed, climbing onto the mattress with a feline grace, her body poised, waiting. The camera moved, positioning between her legs, shooting from above. Without prompting, Madhuri’s hands cupping her breasts over the bra, pressing them together, her hips rolling in slow, provocative circles. “Yes, like that,” Ishaan growled, his voice rough with approval.

Downstairs, Abhi’s breath hitched, his excitement peaking. The raw and vivid smell from his mother’s panties she wore earlier that day, its musty scent laced with an intoxicating flavour, drove him over the edge, his body trembling as he surrendered to the twisted rush, the projection searing into his mind.

[Steel]

Madhuri’s movements were deliberate, a seduction cloaked in subtlety. Her eyes caught the growing bulge in Ishaan’s boxers and a damp heat bloomed in her thong.

Yet, his lack of reaction puzzled her, spurring her to push further. She slid a finger into her mouth, sucking slowly, then trailed it down, rubbing it over her panties while her other hand pinched her nipple through the bra. 

Madhuri : “How am I doing?” she asked, her voice a sultry purr.

Ishaan’s lens stayed fixed on her, his voice steady. “You’re doing well, Aunty. Uncle would love this.”

Her impatience flared. She didn't want to hear about his dead beat husband. 

Madhuri : “What about this?” she teased, tugging down one bra cup, her breast spilling out, bare and provocative. Ishaan remained silent, his face hidden behind the camera.

Madhuri : “Don’t you like what you’re seeing?” she pressed, her tone playful as she freed the other breast, her nipples hardening under his gaze.

Downstairs, Abhi, trapped in his locked room, watched the live feed with fevered intensity, his hand working furiously as he stroked his cock, anticipation twisting his gut.

Ishaan : “You’re doing good, aunty. Keep going.” he said, maddeningly calm.

Madhuri : “Just good?” she shot back, her breath quickening. “What about now?” She hooked her thumbs into her thong, slowly pulling it down her legs. Naked now, she lay back, breathless, her eyes locked on Ishaan, waiting for his move.